11 Sep 2011
Written by Mary K. Armstrong
As a trauma therapist, I was busy helping others recover from childhood trauma when my own incest memories surfaced. That was when I was in my late 40’s and as so many of my clients, I protested, “Why now?!” For the first time in my life things were going really well. That’s the way it is with memories. They come when we’re ready for them.
Being a trauma therapist didn’t really make it any easier for me. True, I had the advantage of recognizing the stages I was going through. Just as my clients, I did NOT want to come from a family that sexually abused its children. I wanted the nice old grandfather who took me on his weekly walks to the library and taught me to dance to his music box – not the old man who used her dependency on him to violate her trust. And I wanted the father who was my hero and took me camping in a canoe – just because he loved me. read more