I lost most memories from my childhood, through dissociation. I have no memories at all of any of my teachers from 2nd through 6th grade, and very few from my home then.

Today I told T I was horrified at the thought that I would harm myself, although the part of me who cuts feels like a different person from the one who was sitting there talking to T. Then we looked at each other and I began to cry. (Yay! I am NOT a zombie). Two big ole fat tears rolled down my face. Whew.

But I realized when I got home that I DO HAVE MEMORIES. My memories are all of these feelings I am bringing with me each time I go to therapy. All of the ruptures, all the tears, all the hurt. THOSE ARE MY MEMORIES.

As sad as they are, at least I have something