My worst memory

We all have them. Memories that we wish we could forget…things that we wish we could banish from our minds. Imagine that writing down your worst memory will free you of it. What is it? Why does it haunt you? What could you have done differently? Write it down and let it go.




I think I just spent fifteen minutes ranking out bad memories. Which goes first? How am I to categorize? The feeling? The concept? The aftermath? I chose a simple cause-and-effect memory. If my other memories are forks this one is a butcher knife. A hell of a big one, too. It’s the day my father told me I am not his daughter.


I was in hospital. I had gotten out but was put back in again for reasons I will not say here. You see, they had this visiting code — you come in during visiting hours, only at the patients consent. Pretty normal, right? Well on one Sunday, the nurses just took the liberty of letting my father in. Due to everything that had just happened he was crazed with fear, and maybe even anger as he came to my room with a white paper in his hand.


He started talking to my nurse. The start was a blur but it still hurt. They let him in. They let him in my room, they let him sit on the chair with his note, his coat still on, his face red and his eyes tired, ringed with dark blue. It turned out the paper he had was a transcript of how much money I’d used from my account that month. He said it was strange of me to be spending so much. I started telling him what I had purchased and why, some of which he had said I should do. Next he went on to saying I’m putting on a show. That I put up some veil, that my voice is different, that it is not me. That I could never have said the things I’d said without being psychotic, sick, (disgusting). He said I made it all up. All of it. That I needed serious medical help, drugs, tests, the works.


First I let it float past me. I wasn’t entitled to hearing all this. I’d done nothing wrong. But then, he said it, five words like five needles through my tongue, each pushed an inch deeper into my mouth, my throat.


“This is not my daughter.”

10 kommenttia artikkeliin ”My worst memory

  1. Ditto.
    I know that situation so well…and I know how it hurts.
    My dad told me that too…but THAT wasn't as bad as what my mother came up with after one of my mental breakdowns she said: ”That's not you anymore, it's like you are dead inside…and honestly, sometimes I wish you were.”
    It was the worst thing a person ever said to me….



  2. these are the words that go all the way into your soul, and stay there. Im so sorry Lilu. I hate that your father rejected you in this way, invalidated you. Disowned you. Thank you for being brave and transparent, as you often are here, and letting us in. Sending love and light and healing to you. *HUG*


  3. You are so brave to post this, and I am sorry you have the story to post.

    Some words, once said, can never be taken back, and their reprecussions can never be measured.


  4. Oh I am so sorry that he said that to you. You did not deserve to be treated like that especially when you needed support and love.

    I hope you find healing.



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