I'm one of the people who remembered late in life. It was just a fragment but very clear: I was four and it hurt when I peed.
I wanted other memories to come. I was frantic to know what happened. I began to remember peculiar things about my family--my father's affairs and his temper, my mother's passivity and helplessness. I felt strange things in my body.
But I didn't get Kodak-sharp memories of what happened.
Gradually, I realized that I could heal without the memories. The important shifts were:
- to believe myself and the little girl inside me who said "Listen! Something is wrong!"
- to recognize the ways my birth family was untrustworthy and how they had slanted the truth.
- to learn to trust my therapist and open up to love.
- to build my own world.