The Memory Pool

A creative essay examining memory and trauma

Note: This (very) personal essay contains a lot of very charged material that could be triggering to others, including sexual trauma, sexual assault, suicide, and mentions of self-harm. Some of the details are graphic. All is in service of truth.

This is a long essay, and took years to write, but I have made it accessible to all. Please consider supporting my work by becoming a paying subscriber.

The Memory Pool

For many years I’ve told myself I don’t remember my childhood. I don’t remember became a protective mantra. If someone asked me about my childhood or my adolescence, my thoughts swept the surface of a broad expanse, only touching. Never pressing. I avoided eye contact with whoever asked, looking down and repeating the mantra out loud, for them to hear.

But I do remember.

Self-erasure, for me, was an act of protection essential to my survival. Had I always remembered, I would not have survived. 

The act of unearthing psychically discarded memories is a treacherous undertaking. 

I di…