Or should I say non-memories? When I was 18-19, I dated this guy for a couple of months. Although we broke up, we remained friends through all of these years and he even came to my wedding two years ago. I was talking him tonight and he asked me if I still SI.

I asked him to tell me some of the things he remembers about me in terms of my illness. As it turns out, there were quite a few disturbing instances that occurred in regards to my SI that I have absolutely no recollection of. One of them, I have a faint recollection of, but wasn't sure if it actually happened. It happened. Anyway, at the time of my relationship with him, this was really the height of my illness. I realized that I have almost no recollection of the couple of months we were together. The memories he told me about were completely foreign to me. I became so frustrated that I did these things, yet they were memories that belonged to someone else-- not me. How is it that one can just not remember? It is because it was a traumatic time for me? It is because I just naturally forgot? He told me about all of these panic attacks I would experience when I was with him-- he he remembers the frightened look in my eyes. He said I looked like "a little girl completely vulnerable and scared out of her wits." I do not remember experiencing one single attack with him. He told me of a very disturbing incident in which we were at a diner and I took the knife and attempted to cut myself with it while holding it under the table. I have no recollection of this. He told me that I brought of of those compasses used to draw a circle (with the pointy end) into his car and attempted to SI there as well. He said that the compass remained in his glovebox for years after. So it happened. It happened because it was there. But I don't remember.

I posted this here because I have heard so many of you talk of issues with memories. I never experienced this level of frustration before in regards to memories. I have never experienced somebody telling me such a large amount of things that happened only eight years ago, of which I can only vaguely remember one.

I also don't like this because for some reason it's putting me in little-girl mode. Little-girl mode means I want T. I want to hear his voice, I want him to soothe me and tell me how he knows it's scary. I was doing okay in my tough-woman role in which I was just pushing him the hell away. But just like my ex-boyfriend said, "a little girl completely vulnerable and scared out of her wits." Yeah, not much has changed.