Flashbulb memories: what happens when you don’t hug your child

I've decided to start opening up about things I haven't spoke about until now, to anyone. I've chose to do this for many reasons, none of which are to get pity or attention. Make no mistake, because fear of giving that impression is one of many reasons I've stayed silent for so long. I want to write a book eventually, but every time I try to write it out in chronological order, because when the 'when' is the focal point of the story, a lot of the nuance is lost. I don't have the 'when' straight in my head in number form. I am traumatized and my memory comes back in bits and pieces but there's still a lot that's foggy. I can remember where I was in development at the time of different events but that's about it. It never comes to me in sequential order. My ptsd is permanently set to shuffle so I'm just going with it. If I'm to get this out of my system, it's going to need to be in the form of random flash bulb memories as they pop up and ruin my days. Maybe I'll print them and burn them after I share each one, to symbolize freeing myself of it. I know I'll never be free of it but I like to think my worst memories won't define who I am forever if I just find a way to get across to people the things that I've seen. And it's very negative. I won't pretend it's easy to read. It's not easy to share and I don't enjoy feeling like a burden when I do, but people get super into true crime. Morbid curiosity has people wanting to know, and perhaps the occasional person genuinely interested in understanding me on a deeper level (though I won't hold my breath). That same morbid curiosity that drives people to binge true crime. Well my story is true crime too. It's just been seen as bothersome more than anything when I have shared bits and pieces up until now, because I'm here to tell it and people only really wanna know if it involves death or disfigurement, so I withdrew. And maybe this is all in my head. Just random chaotic thoughts flying through my brain too fast to get them down on paper in any sort of cohesive way. But when it's 5am and I've had no coffee, what more can I expect from myself. Still at this ungodly hour, my trauma is tugging at my pant leg and I really don't want to feel the need to keep reminding myself who did what do they can all properly be held accountable in my mind. I want to allow myself to forget. Having a written record of things will maybe (hopefully) allow me to close out that window in the browser that is my mind so I have more space for new tabs to be opened. And chances are I will leave these sorts of entries viewable to all for a few days to a week but then they will be switched to paid subscription tiers. Eventually, once I have it all down in written word format, maybe I'll arrange things in a somewhat organized way and self publish it as a book. I don't know.

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