Over on Medium, I wrote about how trauma affects memory, and why using spotty memory to doubt rape survivors is so cruel.

I remember and I don’t remember. Trauma has no respect for memory. It picks and chooses, often seemingly randomly, what words, sensations, details stick with you. Sometimes I smell his cologne on a stranger and have to stop walking for a minute or two to keep myself together. When we’d only been dating for a few weeks, I curled up on the basement floor to nervously warn my boyfriend that he could never ever push me up against a wall while we made out, no matter how hot it might seem, because I had a panic attack the last time a guy did that since the first time a guy did that.

Head on over and read the whole thing.

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