Lost Memories

Isn’t it strange how something totally unconnected with an event can trigger memories?  Or, in my case, start me wondering about the memories I have lost or at least don’t have access too.

I am of course, referring to my memories of what Alex did to me when I was a child.  Whilst watching a television programme which dealt with suppressed memories my own thoughts turned to the gaping holes in my recollection of the abuse I suffered at his hands.  And I am again confronted with a dilemma that has plagued me on and off for years now – should I seek help in recovering the memories or should I sit back and wait, on the off chance that they will return on their own?

It is a question that I have spent many hours turning over in my mind.  I’ve tried to weigh up the pro’s and con’s of actively seeking to remember and the obvious repercussions of doing so.  And I can never come to a satisfactory decision.  On the one hand I want to remember.  Not because I want to be able to see in my mind what he did to me, but because there is always the chance that as long as the memories are hidden from me, I will be unable to move on.

But then I worry that remembering the abuse will be too much for me to handle.  I fear that my mind is deliberately repressing the memories because is some deep, unknown part of me I know that recollection of the abuse will be more than I can take.  Maybe I am not strong enough or just not ready to deal with it. 

There is the belief amongst many professional counsellors that repressed memories will resurface once the ‘subject’ is in an emotional space capable of dealing with the trauma.  And of course, it will be traumatic.  Of that I have no doubt.  Recalling that the abuse had happened at all was enough to nearly destroy me and then openly admitting it had happened brought me to a point where I felt that my life was no longer worth living.

I have weathered those storms, but do I have the strength to take that final step and confront what actually happened?  Am I ready to see it all laid bare before me?  Will it finally destroy me after all I have been through?

Or am I just being a coward?  Am I just afraid and using anything I can to avoid coming face to face with the abuse?