i'm figuring out how much i have been gaslit since I was a child. And that's partly responsible for my relationship with reality. It's simple, but I've been constantly told that what I remembered never happened, what I felt never made sense. Given that I had very vivid dreams, my memories and my reality just merged with those, nothing was real as it ought to become a story with me as its sole narrator. And what an unreliable narrator I am, that is what I believe, but why do I doubt myself so much?
I'm thinking right now, that the way I percieve the past, anything I remember or once felt, has very much to do with how I've been gaslit. Meaning, I don't percieve it. Making me an unstable entity in time, and when thinking about the old times (aka <16yrs old), can't help but feeling sucked by an insatiable void inside me, the surface of my body being the only thing keeping me there.
Yo maybe not facing my memories, as they don't exist, is what is keeping me from processing those.