Fifty Years in two minutes

As soon as I walked out of the therapist's office, I was wiped out.  All that sharing, again. Since I made most of my self-;revelations a couple of weeks ago, I had done almost nothing BUT share: letters to Mike, letters to my "file", letters left unsent to  other far reaching connections of my family. Family that I barely know, and only see every so often. Family that I only met a half of a lifetime ago.  I have even more questions now. Now that L has confirmed all of my suspicions about The Wound. Not just any wound - The Primal Wound. The one that reveals all truths.  Truths about beginnings, and severed connections and trauma, about lost identity and lost love - mother's love. the love I never got to experience. It was taken from me, or I from it, as I was taken from my mother's womb, my lifeline severed permantly. Although I have no current memory of this, I was traumatized. Who, that was separated in such a way, wouldn't be? But like many memories that are forced into the recesses, this one stashed itself away.  I liken this primal wound to an anctual injury.