Today, I was digging through my journals, notebooks and stuff trying to get them in chronological order and refresh my memory a bit. During this process, I not only found a notebook full of poetry but the first hand- written chapter of my book.
As I read through the manuscript, I was struck by the amount of detail in those early memories. I guess with the passage of time I'd forgotten how vivid those memories actually where. Yet, that vividness is actually one of the reasons I knew this must be real.
The other thing that struck me was all the clues to me being a multiple. I certainly was not diagnosed until much later in my process. Even though I knew before the therapists had it figured out, I had no idea at the time these memories first began to surface. Yet looking back at these writings, the signs are definitely there.
Thoughts of False Memory Syndrome also went through my mind as I read my first chapter. It is the classic defense against Satanic Ritual Abuse. The main contention is that the memories have been planted by therapists. Yet reading over this surfacing of my first cult connected, what struck me was how opposite my realization happened from what those claiming FMS portray.
My first memories (and many others) didn't surface in a therapist's office at all. I didn't even go to her until a couple of months after I began triggering off things around me. Bit and pieces came up over that time in all kinds of different ways. I shared parts hysterically with my husband in the middle of the night. Other parts were triggered a friend's house. It was only after that I even told my therapist anything at all.
There's another thing that struck me about some of my writing. Parts of it seem to be disjointed. My training as a writer tells me those parts are not well written. Yet to me, they too are part of the clues that lead to me process. I'm debating between fixing them.........and leaving them as they are.
One thing is clear as I work getting things in order. I have really put this behind me. I do feel a sadness as I read over my journals and poetry but those feelings that comsumed me during this process are gone. For that I am grateful.