It’s a cold, windy day here, and I was taking a hot shower before work, when I had another memory come to me. It was so bad, it had me sitting in the tub, rocking and gasping, feeling like nothing will ever be okay again.
Just like that, my day is shot. I can feel that I’m hovering on the edge of a panic attack. My chest hurts, breathing is hard, and there are sharp pains in my stomach.
By itself, the memory was bad enough. I’m having trouble handling not only what I was doing in the flashback, but the physical sensations that are coming along with it. Taste is a big one. I feel ill. I thought I was maybe ready to write about this stuff, but this one… I don’t know if I can do it.
Worst of all, somehow, is the fact that what I remembered doesn’t make sense with what I thought I’d figured out about what all happened to me. It suggests that my timeline for the partially remembered rape as a young teenager is either wrong, or that it happened more than once. Possibly once at eleven and once at twelve.
All the order, the pseudo-control that I’d given myself by working out when all this stuff happened just went out the window.
Why am I remembering this stuff? I know I wasn’t doing well before it all, but couldn’t I have just lived a screwed up life without having to relive this kind of horror?
I can’t do this. I have real life adult responsibilities, my job and my schoolwork to take care of. But I just want to curl up on bed and hide while the flames in my soul burn my heart to ashes.