Am I falling again, this time into the abyss of my infancy? In the last days I felt that I was coping with my emotions related to the current situation, with the trauma of my adolescence. With ups and downs, yes, but I didn't feel too down, nor did I have to cry too much. I was managing a manageable level of anxiety.

And now I don't know. The night of Monday to Tuesday, when I masturbated, the image of a child (me?) sucking a dick came back to me. I managed to push it aside, imagined nicer things, nicer cocks. The image was too blurry to recognize the other person, and I didn't see anything but his body either. I haven't had similar images since my breakdown almost four years ago. And since my whole childhood is a black hole, with no memories whatsoever until I was 8 or 10, I have no idea what happened in these early years of my childhood. I remember that I have always rejected (hated) my mother. Four years ago, the question that was occupying everything was about whether or not I was sexually abused in my childhood. Since I have no memory, I was left with a "I don't know, probably not" at the end. In any case, whatever happened, I survived it.

But now this question is back. After Monday night, I was quite occupied with the same question on Tuesday, although it didn't cause me an intolerable rise in anxiety. Perhaps for the first time the person who came to me was my paternal grandfather, and he stayed. Not that I have a specific memory. I don't really know. But now, thinking about my paternal grandfather, I get anxious. I don't have many memories of him. His hatred of the church ("these black criminals"), his cruelty to his partner, my grandmother, by giving her only half of the medication prescribed by the doctor, as he thought it was too much (he had no medical training, beyond having worked in a military hospital during World War II, I don't know in which country occupied by Germany). Not much more.

However, yesterday I didn't think much about this, only at the end of the day, writing something in my diary, I remembered this. But this morning, masturbating again, the same image came to me, and this time I couldn't get it out of the way. Shit!

Then I went back to sleep, and I had a dream. I was walking my bike to the beach, through a sand dune. As I started to go down I realized, too late, that a lot of sand had disappeared, and that it was now too steep to go down. My bike fell. I was left on the edge of the abyss, trying not to fall, unable to climb back up. I woke up again, very scared.

And that's how I feel now. Afraid of falling into the abyss that is my childhood. Looking into this abyss, unable to climb up, unable to get out.

In a way I say to myself that it really doesn't matter. What is the difference between telling myself in response to my question "I don't know, probably not" and "I don't know, probably yes"? I've survived it. I'm here now, I'm not this kid anymore. My grandfather died many years ago (I didn't go to his funeral). But it's not that simple. I'm here, looking into this abyss, this black hole, this pandora's box that is my childhood, wondering what else is inside? I've already pulled out so much shit in the last few years, and there is still more left? This can' t be!

I'm left with the image of my mother when I was showering, already in pre-adolescence, entering the shower, opening the curtain and looking at me, wondering if I had washed the bottom parts properly. Did she touch me? I don't know, but I'm left with a feeling of shame, of helplessness. I felt violated, whether she touched me or not. Then, always when my mother tried to caress me, my violent rejection. I couldn't tolerate any physical contact from her.

I'm left with the loneliness. The helplessness. The fear of abandonment. The failure to meet my emotional needs. Not feeling understood, not feeling seen.

Shit! I don't want to fall into this abyss now. I have enough to deal with the confinement, the trauma of my adolescence. I don't know how to avoid falling. I don't know how to climb up to avoid falling. I don't know what to do.

At the same time, I feel strangely calm, for now. The anxiety is here, just under the skin. I feel it in my chest. But I haven't fallen yet.