The Impact Of The Event And Why Write A Memoir
It has been 6 months and 11 days. I am far better and away from the incident that has taken something that is vital to me. It had taken away my ability to trust another human being. I had thought that it had lost its power on me. And I do know that it has lost most of it.
I found myself repeatedly ask these questions while I was tearing up nonstop. “How do people do it?” “How do people use others and then move on as if nothing happened?” “Why can’t I do it?”
It is interesting how my pattern shows up in everything I do. When something horrible happens, I go into survival mode. I do whatever it takes to get up and keep going and keep getting better. Once I am steady, and I know that the imminent danger is over, my mind unfolds the trauma and the effects of it. By now, I have lived through enough of the storms that I know this is for good. Doesn’t hurt any less though.
I was betrayed. We live in a world where the mantra is “Forget About It.” But you see, I find that as a problem. We forget too much, don’t we? We forget that we are treated poorly. We forget that someone shoots up kids in a school. We forget that there is rape. We forget that discrimination and inequality exists. We forget anything and everything that is inconvenient to us. We forget, till it hits home. And believe me, it will hit home. So I don’t want to forget about it. I would like to heal from it. But I do not want to forget that I was betrayed.
If you ask me, how it feels. I would ask you back, do you have the stomach to hear it.
It feels as if someone violated my body and my mind over and over and over without my consent. It is how it feels. Now, do you feel that I should forget about it? Do you feel, women like me should forget about it? Do you still think that we should not heal our wounds?
He gets to go on and live a life that is perfect for him. I scramble and fear anyone who comes near me. It doesn’t feel fair. But I have long accepted that life is not that fair. I found myself crying with no breath left in me yesterday for the first time. Grief found me finally. And I let it take over me, I cried. It felt good to cry. But I keep wondering, “ Why do I not hate him? Why do I feel no anger?”. It would have been very easy if I could hate him.
Every memory, every text, every conversation, every hug and every kiss, how do you live with knowing it was all a lie. An elaborate lie. How do you live with that? I am writing the memoir as part of learning and accepting how to live with that knowledge.
I am writing to say what happened, how it broke me, and how it became the very foundation I build myself back up. I still have lots of unanswered questions. And I need to find answers for them myself. I need to understand how I let myself down so brutally and how I can live with my choice.
This is a journey of discovery, analysis, and acceptance. A journey where I will figure out what I need to live with a betrayal of such magnitude.