Some memories, like the aforementioned one involving my brother and peanut butter, I own completely. Even the different times where he brought me this cracker or that cookie, I, singularly remember it all.
Now, the turn of the coin, the other two memories, I will refer to as Terror and Walk...to be discussed later, I only recall a small portion of the individual memory. It's as if you go to a ball game and can remember the second, third and seventh inning but nothing at all about the first, fourth, sixth, eighth and ninth. My memories are separated into different pieces.
This is a good example....I was three. I remember my mother screamed. I felt the thunderbolt, the jarring upset of her scream in my physical body. I turned to see her...then it went dark. Kinda like the lights all completely went out. It is pitch black, no sound, no sense of being, nothing.....minutes must have passed....some other part of me remembers what I black out. A short time later, I see my mothers hands wrapped tightly around my chest and I See her holding me, my body, slightly out the second story window. It's as if I'm hovering a couple of feet away and watching this crazed mother holding another part of me out the window.
I recall seeing this, but I didn't feel her hands wrapped tightly around me. I have no idea what it truly felt like to look down from that second story window, because it was a different part of me that was being grabbed, threatened and held out the window.
One memory broken into about three seperate parts.
Trauma. Yeah, trauma causes dissociation. I dissociated about two feet away from my physical body and observed. It was an overwhelming experience.
My brother and I had opened our bedroom window. It must have been the first time that we had done this. There was no screen or storm window on...it was just a single panes window and together we had figured out how to open it. Mother walked in on Thomas and I as we looked out. She screamed in fear for our safety. We were all of twoish and threeish. I turned to her, then looked back at my brothers blank face. I know exactly what he was wearing, a blue and white checked shirt buttoned to the top button. I remember, I can actually feel, right now, and everytime I think of it, exactly what I wore, some type of wool, prickly, heavy jumper with green stripes, oh, plaid is the word I'm looking for. The jumper had two dark buttons. I had on a short sleeved, white blouse, as well.
After looking at my brother...blackout, no memory, no idea what transpired. Next thing I remember is mothers words "you could break your neck" or "do you want to break your neck?" and "you could be killed." Those are not exact words, but similar. Then back to blackout until I saw her holding my body out the window, which probably explains my consistent fear of heights and being afraid to sleep above the ground floor. Thanks mom, not.
At some point, those other pieces of missing memory parts will resurface, probably if I tell and retell the story to therapist or write about it enough.
Going off track a bit....See, when mom said "break your neck" it elicited some sort of physical/ emotional, deep seated response within me. Maybe it's the first overt threat she ever made to me, you know, saying the words and then scaring me half to death. Those words, break your neck....I was afraid that She was going to do that to me. And breaking ones neck was probably very painful. In my head, "don't hurt me, don't hurt me."
Anyway, enough for now. Lots to process.
Have a good night.
