I should say sorry for last week’s blog but that was just how I felt and as I said, I will always be true to my feelings and the things that happen in my life. Today’s is, I hope a brighter blog.To those interested, Ellie Mae is still with us, sitting at my feet , in my study as I write today’s entry. For that I am so grateful and will make memories of this time with her, as I have, her last 11 years.
Whilst writing my books, my autobiography especially,the memories were mostly bad ones, from childhood and early adulthood. Writing, revisiting the horrors of my childhood was almost unbearable but necessary. This was when, even though so painful, memory came into its’ own. I didn’t have to make things up, as you would writing a novel, didn’t have to research or take excerpts from other writings, all I needed was my only too vivid memory. Trauma cements memory and as other people who have suffered trauma will tell you, those times are etched forever, in very fine detail, in our inner mind. So writing, although hard, I wrote my story just as it happened, from memory. It proved a cathartic experience, the first reason for writing my books.So much that was nasty, evil and cruel in my life at home as a little girl, I wasn’t able to remember or think of any good things. But a few years ago, I went on to a group on Facebook, The Gosport group of memories and photos past and present, and began to think about other parts of my life that had been over shadowed and hidden from my mind, by the bad things.I became re acquainted with old school friends, saw parts of Gosport that actually re awakened things hidden. Good things. This helped me block out the bad stuff when memory needed a helping hand, to focus on good rather than bad. Just a photo, the mention of someone I had forgotten about or things we all did as children, no matter what our background was. A great healer.
Whilst putting some photos in memory boxes for my eldest daughter, I thought how much memory governs our mood, how it can change how we feel in a heart beat. How a song can send us back to times in our lives that are either sad, or beautiful. How seeing someone or something can do the same. Our day may be going along okay and then, out of the blue, something triggers something in our minds and we are back there. This can feel so good at times, but so bad at others. We have no control over what happens, we can try to switch back, deny the feelings, shut out the sound but once begun, the memory can come back full force and hit you like a sledge hammer.If the memory is poignant or sad, it can stir our hearts one way or another. Even bring the tears. This can be at the most inopportune moments and we can often try to ignore, but most times we will fail.
Phyllis Nelsons’ Move Closer, the first song that David and I danced to the night we met, when I hear that, I get a warm fuzzy feeling and acknowledge how lucky I am to have him in my life. Our song, wonderful early memories.
This morning a song came on the radio that always brings back beautiful memories of me and Lisa, my eldest daughter,singing it together all the time. Que Sera by Doris Day.She was an adorable little girl, my blessing and we did so much together and had such fun. Those memories I will hold dear for all of my life. But just as I was smiling at the words, I remembered all of the last few years and how she hurt me and sadly, at first, those memories overcame the good ones. But I now use a trick that I have clients use. I sit down and write something about the happy times we shared, songs, funny things she did and liked. My memories that I treasure.The 5 o’clock pips on the radio, for those of you who remember, always made her giggle and laugh. Her cuddling our little cat, Alvin, looking down at him in her lap as though he were the most precious of gifts. I hope he was.The Christmas lights, ‘Lisa’s twinkly stars’, her teddy, that I still have here at home, that she once lost and I had posters up everywhere trying to find him. Even went into the local police station in case someone had handed him in. How silly was that but I was desperate to find him for her. I did and she was so happy. The way she clapped her hands when she was about to see her Nan, or go on a bus. She loved to dance, parade around the house with a pretty parasol, dancing: and her smile. Her smile was to die for.She was a happy beautiful child. So many memories that I have locked up safely in my heart to draw on when times are sad.I will no longer allow the bad times of the past few years spoil my memories. They don’t change. They will always be there to comfort me and make me smile No one can steal them from me. The good things must always overcome the bad.
My memories of my 2nd daughter Marie, were mixed. I don’t mean how I felt but she was a very poorly baby and so many of my memories were sad and worrying. Lots of hospital stays, a future that we were told, she would have, looked bleak. My fighting with the consultant for more tests etc. a very difficult time. But she proved them all wrong. Once diagnosis was made she was the road to recovery and never looked back. I remember so well, how Lisa would sit by her cot and just look at her as though she was a treasured doll. They were so good together until they grew up. Sisters I suppose. My marriage was not good and so pictures painted in my mind are sometimes not so good but then I begin to remember the fun times. The caravan holidays we took. The stories that I told the girls in the car, that lead to my first children’s book being written years later. Packing our holiday goodies in a small caravan, all our clothes and toys etc. Me my husband, 2 daughters and a dog in , to begin with a 10 foot van! Makes me smile as I write this. Those holidays, even in the rain were wonderful and I again treasure those memories and hope my daughters do too.
Birthday parties were so much fun, a lot of work but such fun. I remember Lisa’s eleventh. I had made a cake, two cakes really, two figure One’s. Both covered in chocolate icing that wouldn’t set. So I added more icing sugar, and when that didn’t work, more water and then more icing sugar and so on. It finally did set but as you can tell, I was no confectioner and even the children spat it out because it was so horribly sweet. But fun making it, even into the early hours of the day of her party. Magicians, balloon parties, all of them special for either Lisa or Marie. I loved every worry filled minute and still smile at these thoughts.
I have recently been contacted by a college pal who I had lost touch with. We have written a few times and she was so pleased to have me remind her of the fun we had, the ventures, funny and some not, that we embarked on together whilst students. She had forgotten so much and my mentioning things had awakened memories of her own. This is what they do. Memories I mean. They can start a train of thought that is sometimes good and as we know, memories are not always selective in their nature and can also bring the bad. But for her, these were funny, good happy things that she was so glad to have remembered.
I have been putting together memory boxes for each of my children and one for myself. Something I can look back on, on days I feel things getting on top of me. Yes my early life was horrid but there have been so many good, happy, funny and wonderful happenings since then. I have clients keep memory books. I ask them to write good things that happen in them, every day. Things that made them smile. Things they see that please them or touch them. Things other people have said to them, done for them or things that are just good. On bad days I ask them to look at their memory book and most say it helps.Even the most depressed person has been able to find something good to write or place in their book.If they write a bad thing, to counter act it with a good, nice thing, however insignificant it might seem.
These past years I have focused a great deal on the sad, the painful, the scary and the terrifying. Why? Because most of the years since 2012 have been that way for me. But by doing this, I have found myself on a downward spiral at times and so need to look at my own memory diary and be grateful for what I have and also for what I have had in the past. Over shadow the bad with good,change the picture so to speak.This is hard. When a song comes on the radio, we have no control over that or for how it affects us. But in my case, instead of feeling the tears for a time gone by, or struggling to prevent the tears,I will try to smile at the memories of that song, such as Que sera and enjoy thinking of that magical time as a young mum.
During the last few years, I have found myself on the edge of fear, despair, helplessness and I know so have many others. When PC struck out of the blue, my peace ‘here on the farm’, the one place I felt safe. The one place I thought that I could some days pretend that all was well, when it so obviously wasn’t, was threatened. My home life with my beloved man, David, Marie and my animals, was threatened in a way I had no control over. I could not think about the happy, the good. I don’t think anything but bad memories of others dying, those I loved, of loss and heartache came into my head. Thinking that I would lose the love of my life, that life would change beyond anything I could imagine and I would be so scared. I remember once, when I was in that pit of despair, placing a jumper of David’s in the wardrobe and suddenly the ‘smell’ of my beloved man, hitting me so hard that I fell onto the bed. That day the tears, much-needed came, I sat cuddling that sweater and cried by heart out, thinking that one day, that was all I might have, if cancer had its way.I know others have experienced this in reality and my heart goes out to them.One day, for whatever reason, this could be me.
Smell is another memory trigger isn’t it? I was given a box of my brother’s belongings when he died, things I had given him. I opened it and suddenly the smell of Tony, his home came flooding out and so did the tears. That was when I should have used my recall, to happy times with him, but I know how hard that is, because I couldn’t. One day soon, that box will evoke fun, happy memories of my big bear and I will smile. I know I will.
The pain and the pleasure of memory is something we will all experience at some time. It is not easy to stop the pain at the time of feeling it but we can try to have good memories in place to help us. Look at photos of those we love. Play the songs, feel the pain and then shed the tears, each and every time we need to.Shout, scream, swear if it makes you feel better.Memories will always evoke emotions, we can’t stop them but we can help make the future easier on ourselves by making new ones, memories I mean.Make a new memory every day, try to make it a good one. Not always easy I know. I can not look at photos of my brother on some days. On others, I can hold the photo and cry the tears, telling him off for leaving me. I know that’s wrong because he tried so hard to stay. Other days, I can look at his photo and recall the scrapes he got me into, the trouble he caused us as children, the times he made me smile, made me laugh. This brings the smiles. Every little detail of our life together is precious, even the sad. All locked up safely in my heart, my memory box.
I know some in the group may find this a hard blog, I hope not and I certainly don’t want to upset anyone or hurt anyone. I just want to stress how important memories can be, to comfort us, to remind us and to sometimes hurt us enough to help us cry. Tears are healing.I believe that thinking about the past, is a good thing, dwelling on it, or at least the sad parts, is not. Goodness knows I do enough of that. But I must stop.
Things change, people change but memories don’t. The happy ones, the good ones, the emotional ones will all stay exactly as they were when they were made. They will pop into your mind, sometimes uninvited, sometimes on purpose, like they just happened. Time passes so fast and we need to try to make happy memories for ourselves and for those we love. Not always easy but we must try.
A few years ago, I did some work in Reminiscence Therapy with astounding results. One lady who wouldn’t take part, but who watched the sessions, had not spoken for 5 years whilst in a retirement home. During a discussion around an old tin, she suddenly spoke and told the other ladies off for getting the name of the tin wrong. The session ended with her recalling her time as a young wife, working in the factory where this tin was made. A toffee factory, this lead to laughter, tears and comfort for each other. She never looked back. The power of memory.
Time marches on, people change. They may rewrite history as my eldest daughter has, they may remember differently from you, they may argue and make you feel negative about a certain time but you will know what you remember. You will always know your truth.That is how you see the past, how you draw comfort from it, remind yourself of times gone by and hold on to happy,fun-filled times of your earlier life. People sadly die, leave us and all we may have are a few possessions. But in reality,we have something more precious than anything material, we have our memories and no one can change them or steal them from us. They will remain constant, never change.They are powerful, thought-provoking, emotionally strong and ever lasting. They are ours and ours alone. Make sure the ones you have not yet made, are good ones.
Thank you for reading.xx
carolannwright 