Talked to my mother about a session with T and it went very, very badly

somewhat inaccurate is a lot different than completely inaccurate, it seems like you are thinking most of your memories are completely inaccurate....because you're mom denies doing anything wrong. Also though if what you say is true about memories being a bit inaccurate wouldn't hers be somewhat questionable to?

I remember a few incidents with my mom that I feel where more damaging than anything...and she is kind of manipulative and has guilt tripped and such before but I have learned I can still 'love' her but that doesn't mean she can treat me however she wants but it took a while for me to really feel like that was made clear. When I was between 18-20 I feel like she was kind of treating me more like a 'child' than a young adult.

I mean it seems like you're beating yourself up for nothing...all you did was grow up in a less than ideal situation and did your best to cope with it and make the best of it...sure you probably made mistakes, but everyone does.

I know that my mother screwed up A LOT and I know it damaged me. I guess it's just really frustrating to try to remember things and not have them make perfect sense (which is totally normal, since no one remembers all the details of every situation 100% accurately...).

Like there's one situation that I remember really, really accurately for the most part that was incredibly traumatic for me. I had just turned thirteen, and from when I was eight until I was about fifteen I went to this theatre group and we would spend eight months rehearsing a play and then we would present it in April. And for some reason, I'd done something bad or something, so my mother told me I couldn't go to the performance which was that night.

I was super freaked out not even because I had a big role or anything (I didn't) but because I didn't want the director to think I was unreliable; I thought he would hate me, all my friends would hate me, I would never be allowed to come back to that group even though I'd already signed up for the summer session, which I really wanted to go to because we were doing Les Mis and I love Les Mis, and I was just so consumed with the thought that everyone was going to hate me that I was hysterical and panicking. We were in the car and we were driving down the same street where the building where my acting class was held was, and I was so freaked out that I was actually trying to jump out of the car.

This was not on a residential street; my mother was going about 70 kilometres an hour and if I'd actually jumped out of the car I would have been very badly hurt. I was hysterical; my brother who was in the seat beside me was hysterical, and my mother kept yelling at me to sit down and close the car door because I was upsetting my brother (!!!!!). She was reaching over to try to close the door and I was trying to hold it open and I had my hand partway out of the car, and I lost one of my favorite gloves that I was either wearing or holding (they were pink with orange stripes and my dad had got them for me and I loved them), and finally she managed to close the car door and lock it from the front, and I was still hysterical and so was my brother and it was just a bad situation all around. (Needless to say, I did not get to go to the play that night; I got sent to my room and spent the whole evening in tears because everyone was going to hate me.)

But when I think about this situation now, I know that it happened, but parts of it just don't make sense. Like why was I wearing gloves in April? There wasn't any snow on the ground; it couldn't have been that cold. And why was I in the back seat, when I always sat in the passenger seat after I turned twelve? And how did my mother manage to reach over to close the door when she was driving and I was sitting behind the passenger seat? There are just things about this memory that don't make sense, even though I am 100% positive that it happened, and 100% positive that I did lose my glove in traffic, because I remember my father asking me where the other one was and I was ashamed to tell him the truth so I just said I'd lost it.

But just stuff like this...

The minor details that got lost to time don't change the significance of the event. 50% of folks who witness a hit and run can not accurately describe the make or color of the car they just saw impact another car.

But no one can't remember that there was an accident, no one denies the importance of the event because of lost details.

I know you're right...it's just that this is probably why people (ex. my father, Children's Aid worker, children's lawyer, etc.) didn't believe me when I told them stuff. Then I got smart and learned to just leave out all the details.

I'm so sorry that this terribly traumatic series of events happened to you.

(((((Yearning0723)))))