When my mother passed away in June 2020, I believed the hardest part was behind me. She struggled with mental instability, health issues, and alcohol dependency, which left me to fend for myself from the tender age of 12. She was often harsh, calling me names like “stupid” and “mistake.” Those words are etched in my memory. However, after her death, I was unprepared for a flood of other, more painful memories to emerge—memories filled with sadness and trauma.
At first, these memories surfaced gradually. A fleeting recollection here, a vague feeling of discomfort there. I dismissed them as normal reflections of my past, especially as a 36-year-old parent. Yet, these memories felt different; they were unsettling, sometimes barely recognizable. They lurked in the shadowy corners of my mind, waiting to resurface.
One memory places me at my daughter’s age—seven or eight—taking a shower behind a faded curtain. I notice a flickering red light outside the bathroom. As I pull back the curtain, I see a video camera aimed at me, laughter masking my unease, but a deep sense of wrongness lingers.
Another memory brings me to age 15, sitting in a dim office with my mother beside me. The psychiatrist suggests family therapy, but my mother scoffs, proclaiming that I’m the one with the problem. These fragments of my youth are sprinkled throughout my life—emotional and sexual trauma that emerge when triggered by various sensations.
I now understand that I live with PTSD, which often manifests as sudden, distressing recollections of repressed memories. According to an article on Healthline, “Significant events in life tend to linger in your memory,” and while some evoke happiness, others are associated with trauma. For me, the resurfacing memories have been deeply unsettling, causing me to feel overwhelmed and frozen in time. One moment, I’m enjoying time with my kids, and the next, I’m paralyzed by flashbacks to my past. The memories feel alarmingly real, as if I can smell the worn leather of my father’s belt.
Fortunately, there’s hope. Therapy, mindfulness, and medication can help manage these memories. I rely on antidepressants and antipsychotics to stabilize my mood, and I use anxiety medication as needed. I also have a variety of self-care strategies: running, hiking, journaling, dancing, and connecting with friends. As I continue to navigate the emergence of these memories, having a plan empowers me to cope when they threaten to overwhelm me.
For more insights on related topics, check out this blog post and learn from authorities like Make a Mom and the Genetics and IVF Institute.
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