The memories are coming faster now, and more frequent. They hit at the oddest times; and always when I'm least prepared. I keep wanting to catch my fiance cheating on me so that I can walk away from the pain I've brought into both our lives by remembering. I can't sleep. I can't eat. Today I ate my lunch, so lovingly made for me by my beloved, and read his email telling me how we need to talk again because we aren't making love. I threw up my wonderfully prepared lunch. I am trying so hard for both of us to hurry up and heal, but I sit here trying to type while crying and I realize that I can't do it. I cannot do this; it's too big, I am too small for all this pain. He doesn't understand, and I don't know how to help him. I thought the book would do it for me, but it isn't. I still see the frustration in his eyes when once again I am unable to make love. I feel myself shut down, and I can't do anything to stop it. This all takes time, I want to scream at him. ItÈs only been eight weeks since my first memory surfaced. What do you want from me? Why are you pushing me so hard? CanÈt you see I'm doing the best I can?

I am tired of all the crying, of all the sleeplessness. Of waiting for my turn to see a doctor who can help me still the voices in my head. I know that I have to deal with these things, or else suffer a lifetime of emptiness. I feel though that my beloved is growing fed up with me and will leave me soon. I try to be intimate, but sometimes itÈs impossible. And it usually turns out that the times he needs my affection most are the times I can't give it to him. How frustrating that must be for him. And I have to sit there and watch the light die in his eyes when he realizes I am no longer there with him, I am somewhere else.

I feel like an embarrassment, like I should have had this all figured out and dealt with by now. This feeling is compounded by the way my beloved talks sometimes. Like his email today. I donÈt know what else to tell him other than be patient and try to understand how I feel. I am the one reliving the nightmare of being raped over and over again. I am the one who listens to her mother chatter on about trivial things while I silently smolder with rage at her inability to shelter me from abuse. I carry this darkness within me, and I cannot explain that to anyone.

I wrote this a week ago at a time when I was so full of pain I could barely see. I have been going through these emotions for about two months and it's not getting any easier. I want my mother to know how much she has hurt me yet I donÈt want to confront her. Things with my lover do get better, but itÈs a daily struggle to remind myself that he isn't part of the problem. As time goes on, I will tell you more about what has happened to me and why I hate my mother.

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