A few days ago, I was having dinner with old friends of mine. We all studied together and have been friends for decades, except for one with whom I lost touch for a while, but reconnected later.
While we were discussing a survivor book published recently in France, I realized she was not around when I disclosed my traumatic past some twenty years ago. She did not know. When she understood, she asked a few questions : When did it start ? Why did it stop ? Did your mother know ?
I gave her honest answers : I don’t know. I don’t know. It’s complicated.
There is a world behind each of these sentences. But the truth is: I can’t remember most of it. I’m not even talking about traumatic events, I can’t remember most of my childhood. Not in the usual, conventional sense at least.
Continue reading “Believe yourself even if you can’t remember”