Deconstructing a Traumaversary

Finding embodiment and presence after protective dissociation

This is the last one. Today was the last time I’ll experience December 30th without the whole of what happened known. By this time next year, the book will have been out a few months. I will have had my say.

There’s not a single deconstructionist I know who wasn’t prompted toward their journey without some loss, heartbreak, or trauma. I don’t think anyone unpacks their childhood belief system, tenet by tenet, risking the further loss of community, family, and all that’s familiar for anything less. It’s pain that brought us here. And if we’re fortunate, we’re far enough on the path to understand the pain lessens the more we question, the more we tell.

My brain began recording trauma through narrative when I was thirteen, the age of my first sexual known assault. I say “known” because