In fact, trauma’s never overcome. That’s what defines it.

So PTSD does exist, but it can't be cured?

If Jane Austen wrote Star Trek

Yeah, it's weird, isn't it? Like, my mom and dad got REMARRIED (to each other) when I was 12 after being divorced for 2 years...and I remember NOTHING of it. Nothing.

That's the nonmemory that weirds me out the most. I know my mom wore a red suit to the service, but that's because it hung in her closet.

I remember about a total of 4 hours of that whole fricking year: the shuttle explosion, finding the box set of Lloyd Alexander's Prydain series in the TAG room, being chastised by the TAG teacher for reading an inappropriate Trivial Pursuit question aloud (hey, I didn't KNOW what a prophylactic was) and reading Morgan Llewellen's book Epona in the toilet stall during lunch hour. It had a gold foil cover, and I could peel the gold foil off. Also, horses and Cerunnos sex. Rigatona said "He took me DRY" and shuddered.

...that's it. 7th grade. What I remember of a WHOLE YEAR.

Now I really kinda want to find a copy of that book and read it. It's been years since I thought of it.

To which I give the Cry of the Internet: "Oh my God, I thought it was just me!"

I've got about that much of everything up to 4th grade. Like, put together.

Embarrassment, irritatingly enough, ups the memorability.

I don't know how people with poor memories of their childhood function.

I can recall specific days and details at will.

You need that stuff!

I remember living on the farm, to about age 9, with good clarity. It's 9 to about 15 that were utterly, utterly miserable for me, and best lived within the covers of books.

Middle school was so awful that I truly remember almost none of it. My refuge was the school library, and I spent EVERY SINGLE lunch period for two years locked in a toilet stall, reading.

High school is more clear, and things are much, much clearer after the day I finally told off a popular boy who was tormenting me (a la 5th grade to 11th grade) -- he grabbed his crotch and told me to eat him in front of all of his friends, and I said, "I don't eat rotten meat." After that, sarcasm was a self-defense mechanism, and let me tell you, I got a lot of comebacks and pure fake-it-till-you-make-it ballsiness from books.

Without books, I truly don't know if I would have survived school. I was picked on, tormented, scapegoated, taunted.

I've got about that much of everything up to 4th grade. Like, put together.

I've got maybe a couple of hours of memories up till school, but there's nothing reliable until middle school, age 12/13 or around there. Even then it's bits and pieces and really needs memory joggers to be reliable. I am always boggled by law shows when they demand, "Where were you on July 6th of last year!" "Uh, I dunno. What day of the week was that?"

I have many specific memories of childhood, but I can't call up days at will. I remember the birthday party when my mom dropped my cake on the way to the table while everyone was singing, for example, but I don't remember a lot of my other birthday parties. I remember a fantastic birthday party my best friend had, where we danced around a maypole, but I have no idea if I was 6, 7, 8 or 9 when it happened. We moved when I was 9, and although i remember exactly what the house we moved to looked like, I can't remember a thing about the actual move.

I do remember books I read as a kid, or even where I was sitting when I read certain of those books, better than I remember many actual events. The same with certain movies.

I think if I had clear memories of my childhood I would not be able to function.

That probably contributed to the amount of time I was in a book, and why I remember the books.

I remember everything, but I think it is partly thanks to my friend T we were in school together from 1st grade on, so anything we don't remember we can remind each other of. TCG remembers very little of his childhood.