Saturday, June 28, 2014
I cannot really remember when I turned nine years old. That was September 14, 1982. I wish I could recall more from that year. I have spoken about that with my therapist recently. My memory of that year is so vague. I recently remembered some of the predominant feelings I had that summer. I feared that I would not live to see September 14th of that year. I had an unhealthy fear that my former stepmother or her friends might somehow come back and harm me or my father. What a burden that was to bear.
It's a little surreal to realize now, some thirty-two years later, how much of my sadness sat within me and lingered. Deep sadness so early in life can profoundly impact our future development. It seems that in my case the excessive sadness and attendant feelings of loneliness and alienation effectively resulted in a big, dark space in my memory. I simply cannot recall much of anything for a period of approximately eighteen months from June, 1982 to December, 1983. I recall December, 1983 well because our backyard swimming pool frozen over in response to a highly anomalous siege of cold weather. It seems I cannot remember that time period because there wasn't much of anything worth remembering.
So why am I talking about the 'gap of 1982' so many years later? I am concerned something similar may occur now though not due to the horror of trauma. I am essentially asking a question about how human memory works. Can entire years of your life be effectively blank in your memory if there isn't much of anything in that time period that was worthwhile to remember?
I've been thinking about memory lately because, though my life does appear to be improving now, I find my current work highly tedious and boring...for the most part. Yes, there are occasional high points. And I do feel the pride of a job well done when I leave each day. But my current job doesn't challenge me in the least. And in that regard my current work simply continues a theme that has gone on too long. I have not really had a rewarding professional life, that also suitably compensates me, in years. I keep trying to move beyond these limiting circumstances but my efforts don't seem to be bearing much fruit...yet. I try to be patient but some days my patience feels as if it is running a bit thin.
What I am essentially talking about is an unintended descent into anonymity. For better or worse I find myself asking one of those deeply existential questions: When I die will my life have mattered? How will people remember me? Yes, these are deep questions...and yes it's not always wise to get enmeshed in such deep thinking if doing so only leaves you feeling deflated and uninspired. But it's difficult to avoid asking these deeper questions. In my opinion it isn't wise to avoid these thoughts altogether either.
......
It's a humid, windy morning here. We seem quite likely to surpass the record for the wettest June ever recorded. But at least the days are long. The perils of the summer season are nothing compared to the perils of a Minnesota winter. The specter of flooding is far less threatening than that of blizzards and bitter wind chills. Anyway, it's time to get my day started!
Cheers!
I cannot really remember when I turned nine years old. That was September 14, 1982. I wish I could recall more from that year. I have spoken about that with my therapist recently. My memory of that year is so vague. I recently remembered some of the predominant feelings I had that summer. I feared that I would not live to see September 14th of that year. I had an unhealthy fear that my former stepmother or her friends might somehow come back and harm me or my father. What a burden that was to bear.
It's a little surreal to realize now, some thirty-two years later, how much of my sadness sat within me and lingered. Deep sadness so early in life can profoundly impact our future development. It seems that in my case the excessive sadness and attendant feelings of loneliness and alienation effectively resulted in a big, dark space in my memory. I simply cannot recall much of anything for a period of approximately eighteen months from June, 1982 to December, 1983. I recall December, 1983 well because our backyard swimming pool frozen over in response to a highly anomalous siege of cold weather. It seems I cannot remember that time period because there wasn't much of anything worth remembering.
So why am I talking about the 'gap of 1982' so many years later? I am concerned something similar may occur now though not due to the horror of trauma. I am essentially asking a question about how human memory works. Can entire years of your life be effectively blank in your memory if there isn't much of anything in that time period that was worthwhile to remember?
I've been thinking about memory lately because, though my life does appear to be improving now, I find my current work highly tedious and boring...for the most part. Yes, there are occasional high points. And I do feel the pride of a job well done when I leave each day. But my current job doesn't challenge me in the least. And in that regard my current work simply continues a theme that has gone on too long. I have not really had a rewarding professional life, that also suitably compensates me, in years. I keep trying to move beyond these limiting circumstances but my efforts don't seem to be bearing much fruit...yet. I try to be patient but some days my patience feels as if it is running a bit thin.
What I am essentially talking about is an unintended descent into anonymity. For better or worse I find myself asking one of those deeply existential questions: When I die will my life have mattered? How will people remember me? Yes, these are deep questions...and yes it's not always wise to get enmeshed in such deep thinking if doing so only leaves you feeling deflated and uninspired. But it's difficult to avoid asking these deeper questions. In my opinion it isn't wise to avoid these thoughts altogether either.
......
It's a humid, windy morning here. We seem quite likely to surpass the record for the wettest June ever recorded. But at least the days are long. The perils of the summer season are nothing compared to the perils of a Minnesota winter. The specter of flooding is far less threatening than that of blizzards and bitter wind chills. Anyway, it's time to get my day started!
Cheers!
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