Not being able to remember most of my childhood made me feel debilitated. Crazy. Fucked up. I’d listen to people recounting their childhood memories and think, “Why is it that I hardly remember anything?” It took me many years of recovery work, of writing, and of reading every book on trauma I could get my hands on, to understand that this was “normal.” As in, this was typical for childhood trauma survivors. We simply blocked out the nasty shit so we could continue to function. My memory still works the same way. Every morning I forget what I did the day before. I sometimes forget what I told someone 5 minutes before. It used to annoy people to no end. They thought I wasn’t listening. It still annoys some people. It took me a long time to understand that I wasn’t wrong or weird. And it took me an even longer time to learn how to explain to people that I did indeed listen. It’s simply how my memory functions. Quite often now I preface important conversations with it, especially to my team. Once people know I don’t ignore them, they usually help me remember. It held me back in life. I hope this will help you skip years of pain and doubt. It’s infuriating. Debilitating. Depressing. Annoying. Humiliating. And overwhelming. You can cope if you accept it as part of your beautiful survival mechanism. Your body knows best. If you don’t remember, don’t force it. It’s probably good that you don’t. When you’re ready, the memories will come.