Blind Sides Poem by anais vionet

I'm in a psychology class and as part of it we filled out several, detailed, personality evaluations. They said these were helpful in forming a psychological profile of the freshmen classes each year and of particular interest were these COVID years.

The professor said she'd be available, before finals, to review them with us if we were interested - and I volunteered. So in our review we're going over my results and she says: "Your trauma history could produce this constellation of wit, wiriness and attachment-anxiety."

I flinch, irritably, thinking, my "trauma history? " What, "trauma history? " Wondering if - maybe the professor was looking at the wrong paper?

She read my reaction and the consternation on my face, started flipping through the papers, and said, "According to the history you submitted, your father was killed when you were seven and you were hospitalized for..."

"OMG" I thought, blanking out what she was saying, "How could I have forgotten THAT? " Even for a moment. Then I sag with this oppressive, blanket-like wave of guilt at having put the crash so far out of my mind.

"The dismissal of childhood trauma is quite normal, " she said, putting her hand on my arm, "You have to put trauma out of your everyday thoughts - to get on with your life." She assured me. "It's quite normal."

How many blind sides do I have? I wondered