I’ve always loved stories about amnesia. The Jason Bourne movies are some of my all-time favorites, and the only show I watch besides Supernatural is Blindspot, whose main character is slowly regaining a few of her long-term memories. When I read the book Beware the Wild last month, I was fascinated by the way that characters’ memories were replaced with new ones.
I never knew why I was attracted to this theme… until now.
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I’ve written before on this blog about a few of the things that have helped me overcame deep depression and become a positive, joy-filled person. And I’ve written before about having been a grade school pariah (a post I’ve deleted, for reasons that will become clear in this post.)
Growing up for me was hard for other reasons as well. One reason was that as a five-year-old girl, I was the one-time victim of an awful crime, and nobody else knew about it. I thought it was my fault, and I wrongly believed my parents did know, but what I’d done was too sinful to discuss. I thought that when I died, I would go to hell.
As an adult, I know this incident wasn’t my fault. I don’t dwell on it because I don’t consider myself a victim or a sad figure.
But every once in a while, a similar crime shows up in the news, and as happy and positive as I am, the story takes hold and I kind of lose it. This happened last week. I couldn’t stop reading about a particular court case, I got weepy, and I drank too much wine.
When I woke up early in the morning with a headache and got to work on the big novel revision I was in the middle of doing, I had a revelation. Enough was enough. This memory had caused me too much pain already. I was going to replace it.
Your Own Revisionist History
You know how you can completely rewrite something in a Word doc, and when you hit “save,” the old version is gone? That’s what I wanted to do. Not just about this particular crime, but also about many negative things in my past – and we all have them.
Our bad memories are toxic. They tell us that we’re neither loveable nor good at things. They suggest that the world is a bad place to be, which is a self-fulfilling prophecy.
Bad memories aren’t only depressing, but also limiting. If you didn’t remember messing up an oral report in grade school, would you be more confident about giving a presentation now? If you didn’t recall failing Spanish in high school, you might think to yourself, “I bet I could learn Arabic.” If you didn’t remember being poor, you might be more likely to believe, “I could make myself rich.”
Because of the associative structure of the brain, bad memories spur additional negative thoughts. When you remember something sad, your brain says, “Totally, and also, do you remember this other terrible thing that happened to you? Hey, and you know what else is bad? Global warming.”
(Fortunately, your brain does this with positive thoughts, too. If you think about how grateful you are for your family or your job, your brain will say something else like, “You know what else is great? Kittens.”)
There are some bad memories I wouldn’t change. If I were grieving for someone’s else’s loss or their suffering, I would have no desire to set it aside. That would be disrespectful to them and to my own feelings for them. But a lot of negative experiences aren’t rooted in love and significance like that. They’re just stupid and pointless.
How to Revise Bad Memories
I haven’t done it yet, but here is my plan. I’ll have a ceremony soon where I write on slips of paper representing bad memories. Some of them will be basically a category of bad memories: “almost everybody hated me in grade school,” and so on.
Then I will write out alternate, positive narratives for each of them, and I will burn the little slips of paper in a fire.
Imagination is powerful and memory is malleable. I’m sure you’ve heard about people having a hard time knowing whether they actually remembered something from their early childhood, or just remembered a family member’s account of it. You’ve heard about people confessing to crimes they didn’t do, and becoming more or less convinced that they are guilty, after being told repeatedly that they did them.
Neuroscience has proven over and over that the brain is not that great at distinguishing imagined events from real ones. Why not use that to our advantage?
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If you really think it’s impossible to get rid of bad memories, let me share this timeline with you:
Last Monday, I had that bad night after thinking about a court case involving a crime similar to one I experienced as a victim.
Last Tuesday, I told myself several times: That’s not me. It didn’t happen to me. I no longer claim that experience.
Last Wednesday, we watched Blindspot, and one storyline involved a character who is starting to have flashes of memory about his childhood victimization.
I said to Mr. Donovan, “I bet that’s really hard.”
Not, “I know how hard that is.” My first thought was, “I bet that’s really hard.” I didn’t have the usual deep-down pang of recognition.
My guess is that rewriting a bad memory will be more effective than just trying to erase it, because it’s hard to hold two conflicting narratives in your head at the same time.
Keeping The Advantage of Bad Memories
Our bad memories serve a few purposes. Most negative things in our life do.
Whenever we talk about our bad memories, we get automatic sympathy from our listeners most of the time.
Our bad memories can give us excuses not to succeed or reach our potential. “Hey, that’s just the way I am. I can’t help it, considering what I’ve been through.”
My own feeling is that sympathy is not worth the poisons or the limitations that bad memories impose on us. We all deserve love and understanding whether we’ve been through terrible things or not. And I don’t want excuses. I want to live up to my potential every day.
However, we do learn valuable things even from our worst experiences, which I am going to build into my ceremony. For instance, I might say: “I hang on to empathizing with the outcasts and the unpopular. That will always be a part of me. And now I destroy this memory.” And then I’ll burn the slip of paper called “almost everybody hated me in grade school.”
End of the Day Revisions
Maybe even day-to-day bad memories need to be rewritten. I have inched toward this by choosing not to commemorate too many frustrations and disappointments on social media (let’s face it, who wants a gripe to show up in Facebook’s “On This Day” feature, years later?) and by keeping a Happiness Jar, where I record only the best part of every day.
What if, at the end of every day, I consider whether I had any negative experiences? If I did, I can make a mental note of whether there’s anything to learn from it. Then I write out an alternate history. I love this idea because if I somehow screwed up during the day, I am scripting how to handle the situation differently in the future, rather than just simmering in feelings of guilt or inadequacy.
Finally, I can write down the best thing that happened and put it in the Happiness Jar. Now, even a bad day is recorded in my soul as a good day… which will give me happiness and optimism for a good night’s sleep and a better tomorrow.
This isn’t a new idea. I’ve come across a quote before (and I don’t know who said it first) that says:
[bctt tweet=”Write your hurts in sand… carve your blessings in stone.” username=””]
I’m just suggesting to send the tide in to wash away those hurts written in the sand, and to imagine even more of the blessings that are possible.
Are you intrigued by the idea of overwriting bad memories? Is it something you have experience with yourself? Or is this the first time you’ve considered it? Share your thoughts in the comments! And if you’re not doing so already, follow the blog for future posts – there’s a place you can sign up below. Thanks for reading!
You’ve written an intense, insightful, caring and sharing blog post here, Bryn. I read it with interest, empathy, and understanding. I think those who carry their ‘bad’ memories right in front of them, in their brain and heart and soul, are those who can’t dig themselves out of that hurt and just fall deeper and deeper into unhappiness, until eventually, the hole becomes too big to dig out. As a creative writing teacher, I do encourage writers to ‘write a piece about your grandmother,’ for instance, which for some is a joyful piece, and for others, ends up with the writer weeping. But I find that once I (and you, and each of us) write down the memory, we can let it go with that piece of paper its written on. It’s been said, it’s out of your head and your heart, now move on and ‘write about a time you felt joy,’ etc. Do I think we can reinvent our memories? Yes, I think that’s called fictionalized truth. And I think it’s creative and helpful once the pure memory is written and then released.
Hi Pamela! Thank you for the empathic read and the kind words. I love what you say here. And I always enjoy hearing about the way you teach creative writing classes… I think your students are very lucky!
What a wonderful, compassionate post! I’ve done something similar recently and used meditation to help me in the erasing/ revising process. It feels good to have boxed up the bad stuff and to moving on feeling a lot lighter.
Anne, thank you! That’s so interesting to hear about your meditation… I have always been a little leery of meditation, because I like the business in my brain. But I never thought about it serving the purpose you describe. I’m so glad it’s working that way.
Holy smokes, I love this idea. Right now, I’m doing EMDR therapy to deal with several events/issues from the past that cause me all kinds of problems in the present. This seems like it might dovetail nicely.
Plus, I love rituals. 🙂
I’m so glad you decided to post this.
Okay, I Googled “EMDR” and I’m not sure I get it! But it sounds fascinating and of course, I think it’s great that you’re working things through and leaving them behind. Thank you so much for being so encouraging. <3
Ah, Stacey. You are so wise. I am taking this to heart!
Haha. Thank you, Jeannie! I really appreciate that!!
I think this was a great, insightful post. I hope you will continue to work with the idea and let us know how it goes. I have tried some similar things and find it helpful. I’m old enough now that I have a lot of personal history. I too felt like a geeky, misfit kid and more than once did things that left me feeling humiliated and
unworthy. Writing fiction has become a real gift to me. My most successful insights about myself have come from that effort. I have made my childhood self into a character that I, as another adult character interact with. I discovered (actually to my amazement) that I really liked the little guy. I was able to nurture that younger self with the experience of my own successful outcomes. That had the effect of letting me revision my past screw-ups. Instead of being the moments when I fell off the cliff, those horrible moments became the hard building blocks that made the foundation for later success. The power of those negative thoughts remained, but was transformed. There are lots of ways to do it. The important thing is we don’t have to be trapped or diminished by our past. Thanks for reminding me.
Earl, thanks so much for the supportive words! And oh, wow… your comment really touched me. When I read this: “I have made my childhood self into a character that I, as another adult character interact with. I discovered (actually to my amazement) that I really liked the little guy.” …That made me tear up a little! I love how you made your fiction into a transformative experience. Just love everything you’ve written here!
At the end of my novel, the heroine goes through something strikingly similar to something I did. I let her do a lot of suffering and learning from the experience, but the part where I had the most regrets I let her handle a lot more gracefully. It was incredibly satisfying to write, and some readers have mentioned finding the ending satisfying, too! They may never know exactly why. 🙂 Ever since I wrote that, I feel much better about that part of my life. Fiction heals. Your ceremony idea sounds even more effective! Thanks for yet another wonderful post.
Jessica, I’ve never heard of anyone doing this with a story, and I absolutely love it! It’s no wonder it had that certain something that readers found so satisfying, too. I love it! I’m going to think about that. Thank you so much for sharing.
Insightful blog post. Two things come to mind.
Once I burned my poetry. It was writings from a dismal time in my life. It was time to let go of that time. I can still see the drawings in my memory, dark pencil things, and a few stray lines from the brighter poems. But burning the writing released it from this plane of existence and it needed to go.
The collective memory is another matter. We need to remember what our country has done to its own citizens and to people stolen from their homelands. We need to agree on the wrongness.
Your writing makes me think that people who must do things to cleanse their memories may have deeper consciences than most.
Hi Gail! That sounds like such a freeing thing to do. And I completely agree about needing to remember the shameful parts of our history… so that we understand the impact, and so it doesn’t happen again. I’m so glad you brought that up!
Thank you, Byrn, for this wonderful post. I think that’s why writing is so important, it lances the boils in our souls and lets the infection leave our systems.
I really like the idea of a “happy jar” and I’m going to start one today.
Thanks so much, Becky. I love that analogy of letting the infection leave our systems. I hope you love doing a happiness jar. I really do!
Wow, Bryn! I love it! Especially that tweet.
Thank God, I didn’t experience childhood tragedies, but I did have a harsh upbringing. I, too, am learning how to replace my negative thoughts and thinking with positive, constructive, new pathways. Negativity blocks creativity, I’ve found, and as a writer, I’ve decided I can’t afford to indulge in it. It’s so encouraging to know I’m not the only one going against the grain.
Have you read Paul McKenna’s Change Your Life in Seven Days? I’ve read quite a few books on this subject, and his is one of the best.
Thanks for sharing! 🙂
Hi, Jennifer! Yeah, I can’t take credit for that saying (and I would give credit if I knew who to give it to… I think it might be a variation of a Thoreau or Emerson quote, but I’m not sure!) I really do love it! You are so right. Negativity takes so much energy away from creativity. I don’t know that book — thank you so much for the recommendation!
Brilliant!
Aw, thank you so much Laurie!
I think science agrees with you.
https://www.theguardian.com/education/2015/sep/16/what-happens-in-your-brain-when-you-make-a-memory
and
http://www.bbc.com/news/science-environment-31909935
and also search “memory reconsolidation”
<3 Cathy
OH MY GOODNESS.
This is amazing! Thank you so much for these links Cathy! My mind is, well, blown. 🙂
Very nice. For me though, I take the good with the bad. I have some very bad memories, especially as a young girl. I was molested repeatedly by the neighbor boy, and no one heard my cries for help, and my pleas with my parents to keep him from coming over went ignored. I never actually told anyone what he did until much, much later, many years after we had moved away, and only a few people at that time believed me. That was also painful, the people who were supposed to support me, believe and help me through the pain of admitting what happened didn’t believe me, said I made it up, called it “child’s play,” said that I was overreacting, but in reality, they were dealing with their own shame at not recognizing all the warning signs I was giving when I was younger. At this point, I have no shame in talking about what happened, I don’t blame myself, and I don’t blame the people who didn’t hear my 5 year old cries for help. I talk about it freely now, and I share my experience with others so that they can understand how easily such abuse can be missed. And despite how painful those and many other memories were, I have used them to better myself. I know they happened, I have not tricked my brain into thinking they didn’t happen. I have a very strong belief that the events in my life are what make me who I am today.
There is an original Star Trek movie in which one of the characters tries to take away people’s pain, but the captain says that he doesn’t want his pain taken away, because that is what brought him to where he was in his life. I feel the same way. Everything that has happened in my life has brought me to this point, and I wouldn’t trade it for the world. I am very proud of the woman I have become – I was a shy, terrified little girl, afraid of disappointing people in her life, especially men. My experiences have turned me into a confident woman who doesn’t care if I don’t fit into other people’s molds or agendas. The good and the bad in my life brought me here. I have learned to look at the all the bad things in my life as learning opportunities, and as a result, I have removed negative emotional impact that they had when I used to remember them. This is different than tricking my brain into thinking they didn’t happen, but it is similar, I am replacing the negativity with constructive and positive thinking, and using them to change myself. This is mindful redirection. I will admit, it was extremely difficult, but I have had a magnificent mentor in this process, my husband, who learned to do that early on in his life. I am terrified of amnesia, dementia, etc. I don’t want to forget the things that brought me to where I am today, no matter how terrifying and negative they were. I never want to be that shy, terrified little girl again, and I worry that amnesia would force me to relearn all those lessons.
Sara, I am so, so sorry you went through that. The fact that the adults who should have been there for you dismissed it makes it all the more painful, I think. It’s amazing and impressive that you’ve grown up to be the independent and confident person that you are. Thank you for your thoughtful take on this.
I’ve got plenty of conflicting memories in my head, so maybe I’m just used to that sort of thing. My memory’s always been complicated and never quite fit right, so I tend to keep track of ‘congruent memories’ and ‘incongruent memories’. Congruent in this case means things I can confirm with other people or using records or aspects of the real world. Incongruent means things I cannot confirm in such a way.)
I’ve rewritten a lot of my past, but it’s still all in the latter category. I know they’re things nobody else was there for, because they’re not literally things that happened — but they’re real enough for me, and they help me function. I couldn’t ever get rid of the former category, though. I don’t think I could even imagine it. Both types of memories help me deal with the real world, but differently.
It took me a long time before I could accept giving myself comforting memories to hang on to. A long, dark time.
So I guess I don’t really have a conclusive response, honestly. Just — be careful.
The world is pretty quick to stomp on incongruent things.
Ah, Sydney, that’s really interesting, and it gives me a lot to think about. This is such a complex topic, and I appreciate your thoughtful take on it. Thank you. You deserve all the best memories.
Thank you for bringing up a very sensitive subject, Bryn. One thing I have found most helpful is a book, Legacy of the Heart, Spiritual Advantages of a Painful Childhood, by Wayne Muller.
Jessie, that sounds really interesting. I’m going to check it out!