The summers of no memory

[Wife#2]

I'm trying to figure out why I don't remember the Spanish boys. I mean at all. When thinking about them, because I know they were there, I find myself clenching my teeth and withdrawing emotionally. I remember that their room smelled funny. I remember missing my oldest sister as she used to live in that room. I also remember other things about those summers, playing at friends houses, being out on the front porch.

What I know through family legend:

1) One summer, two boys from Spain stayed at our home. They were foreign exchange students. One was from Madrid, the other from Castile (Mom LOVED to pronounce that emphasizing the lisp supposedly common in that area). They were around 18-19 years old. The smoked pot and Mom knew but did nothing.
2) Mom really loved those Spanish boys. Whether we hosted just to please her ego, I don't know. I mean, it was kind of ridiculous - we already had around half a dozen kids in the house already. But, every time she recalls those boys, she smiles and gets all whispy for times gone by.
3) They came for a second summer, the same boys. One year there was a third Spanish boy. I don't know if it was first or second year.

Then, there's this -

I remember visiting my oldest sister and her boyfriend/fiancé at their house. I loved my future BIL. He was nice to me, really loved my sister, and a great house and a super-cool dog. I remember liking all kinds of different people of different races and with or without accents, so that isn't what turned me away from those boys. I had crushes on boys in school, so it wasn't that they were boys.

Years later, when I was 11, we had another foreign exchange student stay with us, this time for a whole school year. He was great! Sweet, funny, 'exotic' because of his cool coloring (Mediterranean) and accent. He played guitar and spoke bunches of languages fluently. He was nice to my favorite brother and sister, he made them laugh. Even my Dad warmed to him, just such a likeable fellow. I had a little-girl crush on him that he was kind enough to recognize and not be mean about - while maintaining perfect boundaries.

So, it wasn't the stranger danger, it wasn't my youth, it wasn't that my memory was faulty at the time (ok, maybe it is/was, but since I started allowing myself to remember, things are coming back).  I had to be at least 6 the first Spanish boy summer, because oldest sister lived at home until then.

Back to my original question. How can I remember so much about those years now, but still not even be able to recall any of their faces? Do I really want to get those memories back? Why does the thought of recovering those memories make me cringe and angry?

Could this be the genesis of my being an 'angry child' like one of my sisters told me? I always blamed the high-needs sister so close in age. BUT, she wasn't there those summers that I can remember. Was I already an angry child?

I know none of you can answer these questions for me. But, it does help to write it out. And, after all the therapy I've been in over all the years I've gone through therapy, why has this never come up? Why have I hid this part and pointed at Mom, high-needs Sis or my own flawed nature? What am I afraid of? Why can't I remember at all?

[Kizzie]

Perhaps you have peeled away the layers down to a deeply traumatic event or events you just weren't ready to face before? And by writing it out you are getting ready to remember?  Inching closer bit by bit does seem to be the way most of us are able to look at and then process  traumatic memories.

If there is something to their visits then not only do you have to deal with that trauma, but a major change to your image of yourself, a version of you you believed for so many years that was not true. I would think that would just add  a lot to the trauma

Just some thoughts FWIW. 

[Wife#2]

Thanks for answering, Kizzie.

Maybe that is it... I'm prepping myself to deal with whatever I remember. Or, I may need a therapist to help me release those memories. I just am afraid that I'll get false memories. I was so young and there was so much going on in our home anyway. It may have nothing to do with the boys. It may just be that something happened while the boys were there, and my child mind blamed them because they were NOT family to me.

It just seems so out of character for who I was and am. I really was that open, run up and talk to anybody, if you talked back to me then we were instant friends. My DS is just like me in this regard. I watch him and realize that I did bury this part of me for a long time, to the relief of my parents. But, that it IS my nature to be open and welcoming. Yet, I'm so closed off and cold most of the time.

I'm talking in circles inside my own head right now. I need to stop for a while, sit with this and see what it means. I probably should make an appointment with a therapist soon. I don't think I can handle whatever the reason is on my own. And uC-PTSD husband already thinks I live in the past way too much - that I should stop trying to remember, be glad I can't and just look forward to the future.

Anyway, I need to straighten up so I can get my job done, at least for today.

Thanks again for answering! I really do appreciate it.

[Kizzie]

Taking a break is good self-care imo     Hope it helps