Exiting a meeting with lawyers this morning I was bereft, physically drained of all energy and sobbing uncontrollably. I leaned against a pole waiting for lights to change and sobbed, irrespective of who witnessed my grief.
This is an experience often referred to in Finding Mary and I can’t believe I am still fighting to be supported, to be heard, to be believed, fighting to validate my existence.
In this meeting I was asked to determine what I wanted out of this process of pursuing justice. Given the financial and emotional risks the easiest decision would be to walk away, dust myself off – AGAIN – and allow injustice to prevail.
Then I checked my post box and found a personally addressed card. Hesitant to open it, fearing something negative, I was proved wrong – incredibly wrong. The card read:
I bought ‘Finding Mary’ yesterday. Lay on my bed all afternoon and couldn’t put it down.
Thank you for having the courage to write your story. I also can’t remember my childhood, except for implicit body memories.
There were many occasions when I felt like it was me talking.
So, for all the pain and trepidation of putting my story out there, all the fear of trolls or rejection and in contrast to the person who delighted in telling me she didn’t enjoy my book, this one card has made my decision worthwhile. Thank you to the writer.
There are many out there still suffering the fear of what is now known as body memories and the dissociation that accompanies them. There are many who still do not believe and there is still debate in America about Repressed Memory Syndrome.
We still have a long way to go.