Memory Blocks

Why, oh why can’t I remember??

I so wish I could understand how memories can be blocked out.  I know they are there, but try as I might, I just cannot access them.

I am of course talking about what Alex did to me.  As sick as it sounds, I want to remember.  I need to remember.  I don’t know why, but this is becoming a major issue for me.  I know that it will be painful to remember it and I can’t be sure whether I will be able to cope, but this business of living with huge holes in my memory is getting to me.

It’s not that I want to remember what it was like, but deep inside there is a part of me that questions whether the sexual abuse actually happened.  Yet I know it did.  Not only do I have the two memories of the incidents in Alex’s bedroom and then in his caravan, but I also have the confirmation of my friend, his other victim.

But it is getting to the point where it is just not enough anymore.

It’s got a lot to do with the articles that have been published covering the issues of false memories, implanted memories and of course, the sick women who make fake allegations.

You may think I am weird and need to take a step back and allow things to progress at their natural pace, but that just isn’t enough for me anymore.  I research Child Sexual Abuse on the internet on a daily basis.  I have come across numerous blogs written by other victims, survivors and even thrivers.  There are quite literally hundreds of scholarly articles covering everything - the psyche of the abuser, the experiences of the victim and the effects on the victim in later life to name but a few.  Peppered throughout are items about women who have made false allegations.  And I can’t help but question my own memories.

It’s totally irrational – I have all the confirmation that I need in what I do remember, how the memories surfaced and of course, my witness.  But it just isn’t enough.  Is it really a matter of the events having been so traumatic that my conscious mind could not deal with the implications?  Or did I make a semi-conscious decision to block it all out?  I just don’t know.

Thinking back, I know that the things Alex did to me have haunted me throughout my life.  But it has never been in a literal sense.  I do not remember whether he ever had oral sex with me.  I could not say with any level of confidence that he ever manually penetrated me.  And I cannot actually remember him ever actually having sex with me. 

But I know he did.  Because I remember the occasion that he left me lying on his bedroom mat whilst he went to get some toilet paper to clean his semen off my thighs.  I remember lying there, feeling totally exposed.  I can clearly recall that I was terrified, but not what scared me so much.  What was I scared of?  Was it because of what he had just done to me?  Or was it something else? 

My other memory, the incident in the caravan has become a little clearer though.  I remember how I felt.  I was laying on the long bench that ran along one side of Alex’s caravan.  I was still wearing my t-shirt, but he had removed my shorts and panties. 

My parents had been visiting with his parents in the house and were on their way home.  As was their practice, my Aunt and Uncle had walked my Mom and Dad to the top of the driveway and it was as they were walking past the caravan that my Aunt was talking about the fact that Alex was very quiet and seemed not to have much interest in girls and dating.  My father replied ‘You never know.  Still waters run deep’. 

I can actually clearly recall the feelings that ran through me when I heard that.  The terror that something would make them come into the caravan and see what we had been doing (bear in mind, I was only about ten years old).  I was petrified that we would be caught and I would lose my family and my home.  I felt guilt about the fact that by not telling my parents what was happening, I was lying by omission.  And a part of me was laughing – if only they knew!

How could a part of me laugh?  What had broken inside me to release such an inappropriate reaction?  I wish, wish, wish that I could remember so that I could answer at least some of the questions that are whirling through my mind.