Memory is a tricky thing. We remember some things in our life and forget others. And when we experience trauma, our brain protects us by not allowing us to remember more than we’re able to handle. We forget all sorts of details, and can forget the traumatic experience altogether. For most of my adult life I’ve had almost no memory of my life before the age of thirteen or fourteen.
What’s really shocking is how two people can remember the same experience in polar opposite ways. Just a quick note to say that the latter part of this post may be a bit disturbing.
When I have healing sessions I travel back in time and address parts of myself who are stuck in time, relegated to my subconscious. The thing is, even when we forget things there’s a part of us who remembers every experience we’ve ever had. And we can access forgotten memories safely using a properly trained hypnotherapist when the mind allows it.
The thing is, I find these parts of myself a few different ways. Initially, I reconnected with them by following triggering emotions I wanted to heal. However, this past year I’ve been working with a spiritual hypnotherapist and I go into sessions not necessarily recognizing specific triggering emotions. These days I ask either my body or my higher self a question. I don’t do the asking, that’s my hypnotherapist’s job, but I’ve decided what I want to work on.
Not only does every session bring back memories, but the associated painful emotions are released, allowing me to safely retain the memories. The associated trauma is dissolved. I never know what’s going to come up, but the healing process has allowed me to recoup a lot of lost memories.
Sometimes after bringing back several memories, my mind feels safe to allow more to bubble back up. I’ve experienced this especially since Kundalini energy has been active the past three years.
For the past few weeks, I’ve been working with an attorney to help me complete the separation of jointly inherited property from my older brother who molested me, so I can be completely free from him. When I first told the attorney my story, I asked him if he could hear lots of specifics about what my brother did to me because it’s painful to hear about.
Going through the process of having to hire an attorney and thinking about taking legal action against my brother has brought up all sorts of stuff, and fortunately, I had a healing session recently to help me get through it.
The days before a healing session can be a bit tumultuous because my inner world knows I’ll be in a place to let things go, and it feels like my inner child becomes activated in anticipation of reconnection and release. And last week was no exception.
A few nights before my session, as I was falling asleep, I began to wonder when my brother’s abusive treatment of me changed into the act of rape. I remember things he did to me of a sexual nature that weren’t rape, but when did he steal my virginity? For decades I’ve known for sure it was gone when I was thirteen, but I suddenly began to think that it might have been earlier, like when I was twelve or possibly even eleven. Thirteen was the age that my mind was able to retain. But now I began to question it. With all the work I’ve been doing, my memory was beginning to open just a little bit.
What came up during my recent healing session was the part of me who had just been raped for the first time. She was completely devastated and labeled herself as Used Goods. During the session, we didn’t think to ask how old she was, but I could tell she was around twelve. When I asked a dear intuitive bestie I trust implicitly, as clear as a bell she received, “before my twelfth birthday.”
As much as it was painful to hear, it resonated. I was still eleven, but likely close to my twelfth birthday. After having a good cry I’ve been able to accept it.
As I said at the beginning of the post, some people remember events in polar opposite ways to others, and this is dramatically clear when it comes to my brother and I. All the years he was bullying me and raping me, nothing about it bothered him, while I was miserable and terrified the entire time.
In fact, when I was almost forty and for the first time in my life asked him why he raped and impregnated me, he told me he didn’t know it was wrong. He said he was told it was wrong by the shrink my father sent him to after the molestation and my pregnancy was discovered. As much as he might believe it, I know that he knew exactly what he was doing was wrong because he threatened me to keep quiet. And because it didn’t stop. Despite getting me pregnant, our parents finding out (and freaking out), and despite going to therapy, it didn’t stop.
Every time he bullied me, coerced me, molested, or raped me he knew what he was doing was wrong because he was careful to keep his behavior hidden from adults. The really sick and twisted part of my brother is to this day he really, truly doesn’t have a clue about the damage he caused. He’s pathetic, has no moral compass, and is internally completely disconnected.