I haven't opened it yet. Didn't want to. I wasn't ready to start the next leg of my healing journey until I was ready. It's taken me two weeks to tell myself "You can do this.", "You've made it this far, keep on going.", "Until you start dealing with it on a much deeper level, you're not going to heal. You're going to stay stuck. Go un-stick yourself."
So today, I decided to un-stick myself. I knew that once I opened that book, there's no going back. I also knew that the memories that have been repressed would finally start to emerge. As much as I want and don't want them to emerge, I know they are going to come regardless now.
And the first one did. I was reading a paragraph about repressed memories. when I had a flashback that last for just a second or two. And I'm glad that's all the time it lasted for what I saw, I can no longer take the image out of my mind. It's there now. What I saw was only my father's face. Behind his head was the ceiling of the bedroom and it was daylight behind him. I can see slight movement of his head going up and down horizontally, not vertically. Then the image went away.
I can not see that image any more - it's not going away. I know it has to be from my childhood. I just don't remember it. Obviously my mind does. I don't know what I feel about it at the moment. Sitting here thinking about it, I feel disturbed by the image and what I saw briefly. My adult mind already says "You know what he was doing." and I don't want to admit it. I don't want to admit it all. But a small part of me knows what the adult part of me says its true.
God, I'm scared. I wasn't expecting such a vivid flashback to come so soon. My adult self is telling my little girl self that 'You're ready now. It's time little one. Don't be afraid." In my mind's eye, I see my adult self hugging my little girl self and holding her tightly. Calming her, soothing her fears as best as she can. And I can no longer hold it in... I cry. It is a cry of fear and of relief. It is a cry of acceptance and of thankfulness. It is a cry that is long over due.
No one knows what it's like to not remember one's childhood. It's like a black void of time with nothing coming from it. That's my childhood, for the most part. Too much of my childhood is a big, huge void. So remembering something, even if it's the bad memories, are a welcome relief. It means I'm not going crazy I did have a life even though it was filled with horrors.
Don't get me wrong. I do remember somethings. I remember the AFTERWARDS. The things my father said to me when he said "If you tell ANYONE, I will kill you, your mother, and your brother." I remember those words vividly. But I'm wanting to remember more. I need more pieces of the puzzle.
I WANT more pieces of the puzzle. I want to remember. I know if there was anything good back then, that will come with the bad memories. So I have to be okay with that. I don't like it. But I have to accept that's the way they will come back. I just hope I'm ready....