On forgetting
Someone once told me (people are forever telling you things) that I’m always saying “that reminds me of..”, that I’m good at connecting stimuli to one another. I didn’t think much of this, surely everyone does it. I made some joke about psychoanalysis and how it meant i was living in the past.
I do, however, have a fascination with the way in which memory functions. The fragmentary, hazy nature of memory. The inability to clearly remember. We pick out particular things, recollect instances, smells, colours, the sensory. The texture and burning on your tongue of an extra-strong Polo mint.
Salvador Dali’s ‘Persistence of Memory’
Do you see yourself in your memories?
I remember being asked to recall my first memory and I was at a loss. I feel unable to distinguish those memories constructed from the stories my parents tell me, I imagine them to the extent that I think I remember.
Years ago, we went to the seaside – Cambersands I think it was – took my cousin, he was a toddler, the exact age I fail to recall. We had a fabulous time, built sandcastles with moats and bridges and ran upto the surf as the tide came in. He fell asleep in the car on the way home. When he woke up he’d already forgotten the entire experience.
It was something of an Epiphany, to see so starkly the affect of time and consciousness.
I think you’re right. Many of my memories are merged with stories and even films and photos of me when I’m little. Even new memories are from other camera angles because of my attempts to look at how I may have looked from a different perspective outside of myself.
A post about the hazy nature of memory and you neglect to mention your anecdote relating to your inability to differentiate between reality and your thrilling dreams of MSN conversing and txt receiving!
I remember the first time I blacked out from alcohol (or more accurately I remember the following morning). At first I wasn’t aware anything was out of the ordinary; I don’t think I was even suffering from a hangover. As is normal I was probing over the events of the night before, some of which were a tad blurry, and it was only when stepping through the night that i noticed a void, subsequently leading to an uneasy feeling of dread in the pit of the stomach for the remainder of the day.
Slightly horrifying that such a thing were possible, that I (almost) didn’t even realise the memories were missing. You think you’d instantly notice not recalling how you got home or the final few hours of the previous evening, but unless you actually search for the memories and discover they’re gone you wont.
This is worrying in general (ignoring alcohol amnesia through stupidity), unless it’s something routine you don’t necessarily know the memory should even be there to warrant sending out a search party for it.
Dementia sounds pretty horrifying. A relative suffered it in old age, didn’t recall anyone that came into her life after a certain point (I think she remembered people she’d met up to her mid twenties, I don’t remember the specifics but I’m hoping that’s because I was young…). As far as I know this didn’t really confuse her, even though she didn’t recognise anyone visiting her (I guess she didn’t have the mental capacity to reason about it logically). She was in a home so her ‘quality’ of life was somewhat limited, but I don’t remember her being unhappy, maybe more of a happy ignorance of sorts. Ignoring the effect the disease had on relatives, I can’t decide on the extent she was suffering.
Memory is both fascinating and SCARY. (Sorry if I’ve hijacked this post with random memory loss related stuff, I was bored! And I agree, the mind does seem to indeed have a knack of creating believable false memories from stories over time).
I often feel jealous when watching a play that has a character recalling a memory from the past.I wish I could remember things so clearly.
I think what makes us individual is our brain; our experiences of life and the emotional connections we make. If we were to lose memory, we’re bodies without soul.It must be awful for relatives of such patients.
In response to your question, I can literally see myself in my memories. I can close my eyes and can recall vivid images of my life from childhood to the present. But, i hardly share those pictorial memories with any body. The reason being, last I checked – brain cannot be connected to a USB port on computer to download pictures from the brain, and I am too lazy to construct story from those pictures. Also, I am not sure if it will be of interest to others.
I always find your stories fascinating! Especially the ones where relating how you used to antagonise mum! Those would be effortlessly funny, even if your storytelling was of a mediocre nature, but to aid my continued amusement your style is always rather brilliant. By which I mean you’re the funniest person I know. Thanks for commenting Rufi Mamoon… hope Huma Mami and Hibah are well! xxx