[ShaggyChic_1201]

Trigger??



This is so unreal to me that I barely even know how to write this.

My soon-to-be ex had hidden a bunch of my old photos from my previous life/marriage. He had told me they had been destroyed in a flood. I found the shoebox with the photos and it also had a journal.

The journal was mine. At first, it detailed a very mundane month in 1997. Then I turned the page and it was re-dated September 4, 2001. I didn't recognize the specific date, but I knew where I had been during September 2001. I was inpatient at a psychiatric facility in Philadelphia.

The events that led up to my T's decision to hospitalize me were this: In January of that year, my first husband died. In April, my stepmother died. In May, my grandmother died. In August, my father-in-law died.

I know all these facts, but I don't remember anything about that time, except that I had decided to rescue two cats so I'd have something to live for.

Worried about what I might find in the journal, I brought the photos and it to T today. I started skimming the text and reading bits and pieces of it aloud. It described multiple panic attacks and flashbacks I don't recall having. It talked about being treated for self-inflicted bite wounds at the hospital. It detailed what it was like to be in a mental hospital during 9/11 roughly 150 miles away from both WTC and WDC and knowing people who worked in the Towers.

There were some letters - one to my deceased mother where I lamented that fact that she was so distant to me that I didn't even remember her, tho I was 24 when she died. There was a similar letter to my grandparents, and a very sweet letter to my stepmother, who I loved dearly.

And then there was the bombshell. One that I am still reeling over.

There was letterd to my late husband and to God. In it I expressed my overwhelming grief at being alone and guilt for not recognizing the symptoms of my husband's symptoms (he died of an aortic aneurysm). And I said that I was grieving the loss of my unborn baby who would have been due on 9/11. I said how happy I was to *finally* have gotten pregnant and how terrible it was to have denied my husband the knowledge of this baby.

But I have NO recollection of wanting a baby, let alone being pregnant and having a miscarriage.

Then, as abruptly as the journal starts, the date shows I am released from the hospital and I go home. No more entries.

Unfortunately, all this unfolded during the session at the end and all my T had time to say was that dissociation was a very powerful device and was meant to be protective.

So now I'm sitting at home, alone again though now at 45, and wonder what this all means. If it's even true. How does one process this stuff?

Grieving, belatedly
Bub

[CantExplain]

((Bub))

I can feel how upset and disorientated you are. Obviously 2001 was a terrible year for you personally, and you had good reasons not to want to remember it.

But if I went back to me own records for 2001, I am sure I would find many things that were burning issues at the time that I have completely forgotten today.

I am so very sorry for your loss. I have no advice, just my heartfelt empathy.

[ShaggyChic_1201]

Went back and talked to old T about this time in my life.

She said (referring to 2001) that time was not linear for me. I did not necessarily know what was reality and what was in my head. She told me stories of things I had said and done which indicated the tremendous depth of my pain. It was hard to hear these things, which I have no memory of.

In the end, I've come to believe that what I had written was not true in a literal sense. It was what I was feeling at the time - alone, forlorn, barren, bereft - and this translated to losing something that most people find incredibly precious: a baby.

My current T said that as I heal from the trauma of my 10 years in an abusive marriage, the memories may come back. I hope so. I want to be able to look back and be proud of how far I've come, and also to be able to learn from my mistakes. By forgetting everything painful, I tend to repeat the same errors again and again.

[CantExplain]

((bubsmiley))

It must be scary and disorientating not to know what really happened.

[Anne2.0]

Originally Posted by bubsmiley

In the end, I've come to believe that what I had written was not true in a literal sense. It was what I was feeling at the time - alone, forlorn, barren, bereft - and this translated to losing something that most people find incredibly precious: a baby.

This resonates with me and I have my own version of this with childhood memories. I think it is a "thing" that researchers have identified and I have also heard it said that, "just because it didn't happen doesn't mean it's not true". But memories can be symbolic rather than literal, emotional rather than factual, and I think you are just really insightful to have identified what's underneath your "memory." It speaks volumes about your experience with your husband and I am sorry that you had to live all those years feeling this way. You are courageous to be leaving and a have a little idea of how hard it must be. I am so glad you are reclaiming yourself and reclaiming these memories is a piece of that.

Originally Posted by bubsmiley

My current T said that as I heal from the trauma of my 10 years in an abusive marriage, the memories may come back. I hope so. I want to be able to look back and be proud of how far I've come, and also to be able to learn from my mistakes. By forgetting everything painful, I tend to repeat the same errors again and again.

This makes a lot of sense to me. I do believe that memories come back to people as they heal. Also, the recovery of one memory often leads to others, like a magician's scarf it seems. I also believe that *wanting* your memories to come back, welcoming them, can be instrumental in them returning. Create a place inside yourself where they will WANT to be.

I used to be scared of memories, threatened by them, angry at their return. And then I realized that they belonged to me, and they belonged with me, not split off from me, dissociated. I'd already lived through, and survived, the experience that created them. Getting the memory back was a blessing, as it was so much easier to relive the experience from the memory than from the experience itself. The memory can't ever hurt me, and it can help create more of me, a more whole me, a more truly complete me. Now I want all my memories, they are *mine.* I am working toward my memories being like a page in the book of my life-- they don't define me, they are far from all of me-- but I can look at them if I want, and I can look away from them as well. Just a page in the book of my life.

I wish you the best on what sounds like a very exciting journey.

[ShaggyChic_1201]

Thanks Anne. Your words meant a lot to me. I was feeling all alone