Duran Duran – Come Undone

The song that opened the gates to more unprocessed childhood trauma.

Eventually, one day in my life I will get to the bottom of it. I will process everything that happened and stop crying about it. But today is not that day, it seems.

This lovely show from the 90s and its soundtrack brought back memories I didn’t even know I had. You see, I lived with my stepfather for five years, every single day, and I have no memories of it.

I remember the year he left. I remember the darkness of that winter. I remember not being able to talk about it, my mother destroying the photos (while I tried to save some). I remember being alone, utterly alone. She stopped functioning as a person. For months, she didn’t leave her bed. I had breakfast and dinner alone. I believe I cooked, or maybe I just ate bread, but I don’t remember her leaving the bed except for the bear minimum. Meaning: to lie to everyone around that she was fine, so she could close the door, go back to bed, and leave me alone again with my unanswered questions.

And alone I was. And alone I stayed. I dissociate so deeply that my brain erased the years we lived together. I have nothing left except music, a warm feeling about him and how safe he made me feel, the color orange that reminds me of openness, fun, not taking things to serious, only love matters.

He was so different from everyone I knew. So light, so at ease. So “I don’t need to be anything else, just what I am.” With the lack of memories, it’s just a gut feeling, honestly. Maybe my abandoned-child brain is romanticizing him. I don’t know.

Here’s what I know:

• Nobody considered my feelings as a child during the brutal, overnight breakup. As always, I believe both adults did what they could, but it was not enough. I was, after all, collateral damage.
• Because of that, I processed nothing. I repressed everything, I could not even talk about it for years. So all I have now is a mix of feelings and zero coherent memories. I remember nothing from five years of daily life.
• Eventually, I need to ask for his side of the story. I need to understand what happened, straight from the source. So I will have to learn how to handle my emotions and have an adult conversation with someone who, even without intention, shattered my childhood by leaving.
• It’s going to be hard. It might be exactly what I need to heal that piece of my soul. To walk side by side with my childhood self and know that although nothing will change what happened, we can accept it, process it and move foward. And we are cool, we are fine, we survived.