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"We try to repeat those experiences that we
remember with pleasure and pride, and we try
to avoid repeating those that we
remember with embarrassment and
regret.
The trouble is that we often don't remember them correctly.
memory is not a dutiful
scribe that keeps a complete transcript of our
experiences, but
a sophisticated editor that clips and saves key
elements of an experience and then uses these elements to rewrite the
story each time we ask to reread it. " - Daniel
Gilbert
memory is defined as:
something remembered
the act of
recollection
an artifact of
instinct and
intuition
image
brought into consciousness out of the subconscious
a cognitive
processes whereby past experience is remembered
capacity of a material
to return to a previous shape after
deformation
An
amalgamation of rememberance, reminiscence and recollection denoting the power
by which we reproduce past impressions.
Remembrance is an event that occurs
spontaneously in our thoughts.
In recollection we make a distinct
effort to collect again, or call back, what we know has been formerly in the
mind.
Reminiscence is
intermediate between remembrance and recollection, being a
conscious process of recalling past
occurrences, but without that full and varied reference to particular things
which characterizes recollection.
Memory is a
complicated process, only partly understood.
The qualities of a memory
do not in and of themselves provide a reliable way to determine
accuracy.
A vivid and
detailed memory may be based upon inaccurate reconstruction of events, or
self-forged impressions that appear to have actually
occurred.
Reconstructed experience of phenomenonal events influenced
by the emotions,
expectations and implied beliefs of others results in a memory - a
remberance, a reminiscence or a recollection.
Déjà vu is an
illusion, a vivid mental trick
played by the mind on itself.
You walk into a charming
beautiful garden.
Suddenly, you are certain, absolutely positive,
you have been in that exact spot doing the exact same thing before.
There is a puzzling but very strong feeling of familiarity.
What is really happening is your
mind is processing the
experience along several neural
pathways at once.
Déjà vu is a
neurological anomaly related to improperly timed
synapses firings
resulting in an erroneous sensation of memory of previous experience coupled
with an inability to grasp any details of the underlying memory of that
experience.
Improperly filed
information meets in the mind's higher processing centers as a time overlapping
incident.
It is as if one series of messages have taken a shortcut
and ziped into memory first. When others identical messages arrive, the
mind announces, accurately,
that the new memories are replicas of previous memories.
To the
mind, this means you have
been here and done this before.
70% of people say they have had a
déjà vu experience.
Is it possible to
consciously delete
existing
memory?
People that have
had extremely traumatic experiences that do not fit in to that person's typical
understanding of reality seem to be able to delete the
memory of the actual experience.
Although they are able to consciously forget the actual
memory, or perhaps mask or
wall up the
memory, they are unable to mask
to their inner most selves, the emotional response that occurs when similar
events take place that their subconscious mind recognizes and
categorizes as familiar to past events.
If it is possible to
consciously delete existing
memory - how would that
individual ever know that memories had been
deleted?
trauma
It is necessary and crucial step required for
healing to allow traumatized people to talk about their trauma.
Allowing people to talk about what has befallen them allows them to
connect with their emotion and process the trauma."Focusing on children who are not abuse victims (because,
thankfully, children who are not abused by
their caregivers are the majority), let us consider an ordinary childhood event
that developed into trauma, rather than just fright or hurt. Take a few moments
to view things through the eyes of five-year old Dylan, who gets off the school
bus at the wrong stop.
Dylan started kindergarten on Tuesday. Today is
Wednesday. He is riding the school bus home for the second time in his life. He
feels a little intimidated by the big ten-year-old sitting beside him, he
misses his mother, and he is not at all sure that he knows how to be a school
bus rider. Nearly everything during the past day and a half has been new, and
Dylan is worn out, and eager to get back to the homey sofa in the den, and his
Quack Pack videos. His mother promised that she would be waiting for him at the
bus stop, just like yesterday. He looks expectantly out the window as the bus
travels by places that look dimly familiar.
When the bus finally stops,
bunches of loud, laughing, pushing children migrate hastily toward the door.
The children disembark in an impenetrable tangle of thrashing heads and arms,
Dylan among them, confused but earnestly striving to be a good bus rider. There
are some adults by the side of the road. They greet the children, and in a
matter of seconds, the bus has departed, and everyone has moved away from the
bus stop.
Dylan's mother is not there. And as people walk out of sight,
chattering and swinging each other's hands, no one notices that one
five-year-old boy has been left standing alone. The boy does not even think
about calling after the people. He is too stunned, and besides, he does not
know them. He stands right there, for a long time, hoping that his mother will
appear. He looks like a tiny statue at the edge of the road, until a monstrous
truck, air horn blaring, zooms by just a few feet in front of him, causing him
to lurch sideways into some trees. He looks around at the wooded area, and
decides he had better hide there until his mother comes.
Dylan sits
down under an elm, where he is concealed from the road by a small embankment.
He puts his legs out in front of him, and leans back against the tree. His new
backpack, which he still has on, cushions him a bit. He stares straight ahead,
and begins to tap his new sneakers together. He is scared, but he knows his
mother will come soon. He sits that way for about half an hour, the length of
one Quack Pack video, and then he thinks the unthinkable: maybe she is not
coming. As soon as this thought occurs to him, he feels clammy all over; his
stomach feels shaky, and he begins to cry.
Soon, the tears have turned
to desperate sobs. He cries convulsively for several minutes, until he is
gasping for breath. Then, he gets an idea. He inhales as deeply as he can,
stands up, and walks cautiously back to the roadside, where he looks around
briefly. He calls out, "Mommy!" and then, more emphatically, "Mommy!"
Dylan is about three quarters of a mile from his home, in a nice, safe
suburban neighborhood. As long as he stays out of the road, which he knows to
do, he is in no physical danger. Serene middleclass houses sit at the ends of
the driveways that join the street on both sides. Really, all that Dylan has to
do is go up one of the driveways and knock on a door, which in all likelihood
will be answered by a sympathetic adult who will quickly contact his mother.
But five-year-old Dylan does not know this. In his so far brief time on earth,
he has never knocked on a strange door. He has never even gone all alone to
someone else's house. And in his current panicked state, he does not even put
it together that the silent houses contain people at all. The houses are only
another aspect of what is impersonal and frightening all around him.
After shouting "Mommy" a few more times, he gives up and returns to his
tree behind the embankment. His pants are damp in back, from the ground he sits
on. He feels cold in the warm September afternoon, and he shivers. He whispers
"Mommy" once, and a few more tears leak onto his cheeks. But then he is quiet.
He sits quite still under the tree, as the enormity of his situation engulfs
him. He is lost. His mother is gone. He will never get to talk to her again. He
is never going home.
In this way, he remains for about another hour. He
begins to feel that the world is very far away, and he is just a teeny speck
floating somewhere in a fuzzy gray space. He wonders, in a detached sort of
way, whether he is going to die now. Finally, he does not feel anything, not
even cold and shivery. Still wearing his backpack, he curls up in a fetal
position on the ground, and, in his mind, completely disappears from himself
and his surroundings.
Another hour passes. Dylan is brought back to
himself when his mother dives to her knees by the tree, and grabs him up in her
arms. Some other grown-ups are there, also. Without emotion, Dylan says,
"Mommy?" His mother is sobbing and jubilant at the same time, and she does not
notice that Dylan is neither.
Someone drives Dylan, and his mother
home. They sit in the backseat, where his mother hugs and kisses him over and
over, and tells him that everything is okay. Dylan does not say anything. When
they get home, his mother places several emotional phone calls, and then she
makes some chicken noodle soup for Dylan. When he does not
eat it, she tells him once again
that everything is okay. She assures him that from now on, she will pick him up
at kindergarten herself. No more school bus. Then, feeling at a loss, she
suggests that they sit on the cozy sofa together and watch one of his videos.
She holds him close, and he watches the movie. He does not keep up a running
commentary, or wiggle away to bounce on the furniture the way he usually does,
but she knows that he must be exhausted, and probably still frightened. She is,
too.
When the movie is over, she decides that Dylan looks pale. She
hopes he has not gotten sick from lying on the damp ground, and she suggests
that he go to sleep right now, though it is still early. Without protest, Dylan
lets his mother put him to bed, where he resumes his fetal position.
When we imagine this event from inside Dylan's mind, we
see that he is much more than tired and very scared. He is traumatized. His
nascent views of the world and the people in it have been violated, and his
ability to cope has been utterly overwhelmed. At the age of five, he has
imagined the face of death, and has experienced the fact that one can terminate
such imaginings by being dissociative.
All of this without any objective
danger, and though the story had a happy ending Dylan has still been
traumatized."
excerpt from Divided Consciousness and the Promise of
Awareness, by Martha Stout, Ph.D
An adult can easily forget the trauma inflicted on a
child.
Adults may never realize a child has been traumatized.
A
child will forget what caused the trauma but there will always be a set of
circumstance that will send that child into
a dissociative state.
It
is unlikely that an adult will remember what initially caused the trauma while
not in a dissociative
state. |
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