September 2
It’s September 2. It’s the fourth anniversary of the “We Need to Talk” conversation with the ex-boyfriend. The fact I remember this means I probably should be berated about moving on. (This is sarcasm.) It’s not like I put a recurring event on Google Calendar that says “Remember Shitty Ex” on this date from here to eternity. It’s more like small details bring back the memories. It used to be a barrage of anger, now it’s more remembering the rawness of the emotions I felt. I’ve learned through my professional work to help children that triggers that lay just under the surface are part of the nature of trauma. I’ve now recognized that my trauma is valid, despite being continually told to “move on” in ways that were both well-meaning and ways that showed a complete lack of empathy. “Move on” became a loaded phrase to me, but I could never quite explain why. About six weeks after the break-up, my boss at the time called me to essentially chastise me for being...