"good" Memories Vs "bad" Memories

[whiteraven]

I've always had doubts about, well...about everything that I've been dealing with over the last 30+ years. That's the nature of DID and abuse and PTSD. Memories can be so sketchy that it's hard to know if they are real and when you do remember them, you wish you hadn't.

I have some memories that I know are accurate and which, when seen in terms of the way I react to things and function these days, there is just no question they were a part of my life. I and my insiders have other memories that I just can't accept as part of my history. They are horrific. I can't imagine they were a part of my existence, ever.

Recently, I took possession of the family slides and photographs. There are thousands of them dating back to when I was born. I've gone through about 12 slide trays and I'm really struggling with what I see. I/we look *happy*. What does that mean? I know there were happy memories - I remember lots of happy stuff - but these photos are not of a neglected or unloved little girl. I mean, if I were looking at them from the outside, I wouldn't think so anyway.

So confused.

 

[Gamera3000]

As we go about our lives, we all have to put on performances. To take PTSD out of the equation, think about how a medical doctor has to act like a doctor when they do an exam. The doctor can't act like a...WWII historian...or a mom. Maybe the doctor IS a WWII expert AND a mom. But that is not the time for being those things. You'd start to question the doctor's authority if they wouldn't shut up about WWII while they were examining you. You couldn't get on with things.

Your job at those moments was to be a child who was having a photograph taken of you. If you didn't play that role, everyone would stop and question why you weren't behaving as expected. You were under enormous stress to perform. To appear...happy, and normal. Same with everyone else.

 

[BoN-bOn]

I understand. I think the same thing at times. That's a good analogy @Gamera3000 !

 

[Gadgie]

I can remember all the good times of my childhood, as there were so few of them!

It's the bad ones that I've been trying to forget, but there are so many of them, that I can't forget them all?

 

[whiteraven]

As we go about our lives, we all have to put on performances. To take PTSD out of the equation, thin...

Thanks @Gamera3000. Good points. Lots of stuff to think about.

 

[Freedomfighter]

I've always had doubts about, well...about everything that I've been dealing with over the last 30+...

Familiar with that, despite a strange and painful childhood I remember being happy, almost as if my mind only chose to keep the happy memories.

 

[Deleted member 8714]

My stepdad discarded loads of photographs from my childhood and my siblings. The ones he sent me tell me a story through my eyes. They look dead as if the life was taken from me at a very young age. Even one when I was just a baby shows a smile yet the eyes show a different story. I've got one from when I was six years old and again my eyes are vacant, and there's a smile which isn't really a smile. I put on a "face" for everyone. It was my 6th birthday party. A kid behind me actually looked happy compared to my face. I looked like I was in pain.

No doubt my stepdad carefully picked through his photographs and gave me ones from specific ages which showed the least amount of trauma in my expressions. I received pictures of me at 1, 6, and 13 years old. Pretty sad. My stepdad was an avid photographer so I know there had to be loads more.

My most shocking and least believable memories came after my mother died. Yet the more I remembered, the more my life began to make sense. So many mysteries suddenly unfolded into truths which put the puzzle of my life together, finally.