Sometimes even non-disturbing memories can be overwhelming to the point of exhaustion and stress when they are shared by parts of me who insist talking about it, regardless of what I have to say about the matter.
For example, yesterday they kept insisting on showing me memories they had of when we were in elementary and middle school. They weren’t necessarily bad memories. In fact, many of them were memories that I already knew, but were things I had just put from my mind. The memories I hadn’t consciously recalled before (those things that I had knew before but had, for whatever reason, dissociated from) were met with the usual “wow, I can’t believe I forgot about that” response from me.
So they weren’t necessarily bad memories. But if you can imagine what it must be like to live life virtually deaf, and then all the sudden, to be able to hear. Imagine how the noise must be overwhelming after a lifetime of hearing only silence. Maybe this isn’t the best analogy, but it’s the best one I can think of to explain how overwhelming it can be to go along life not really consciously aware of very many memories, and all the sudden, to have a lot of memories flooding the mind at once and to be incapable of stopping them.
So this is how yesterday went.
And I finally got exasperated and asked myselves, “Why do you keep talking about school?!”
Of course, no one answered, because… well, I guess that’s a dumb question. They were talking about school because they wanted to talk about school. Why else?
And very early this morning, I was kept awake by a very young part of me who wanted to remind me of what my first day of school was like. These were things I had forgotten all about, but was reminded of again.
Being reminded by the parts of me about things I had forgotten: that’s an odd feeling to me.
… being walked into the classroom by a school monitor and picking a desk that was right beside my cousin.
… not really knowing what was going on, but standing with everyone else when the bell rang to recite the pledges of allegiances. I didn’t know them at first, of course, so that first day, I just stood there with my hand over my heart, watching everyone else recite the pledges.
… going to the church auditorium with the entire school for the daily devotional.
… sitting on the red padded pew between two older girls I loved and learning the patterns of counting.
… being pulled into the principal’s/pastor’s office and being afraid that I had done something wrong.
I hadn’t done anything wrong, I don’t think, and I’m not entirely sure why I was called in there that first day, but it terrified me at the time. Since there’s a vague recollection of being asked to look at a paper and read aloud, maybe it was just to see whether I should be placed in Kindergarten or first grade, but I’m not even sure that Kindergarten curriculum was available at that time. Regardless, I ended up beginning in first grade since I already knew how to read (I started teaching myself to read when I was two, and was proficient by the time I was four, so when I started school at five, there was no point in going through Kindergarten).
… happily swinging my legs back and forth as I opened my first PACE and read the instructions. (PACE stands for “Packets of Accelerated Christian Education,” and were our basic workbooks provided through the ACE program.)
… finding out at lunch that my cousin, whom I had considered to be my best friend up until that point, had friends that she loved more than me, and quickly learning that she was quick to ignore me and make fun of me just to make herself feel better. Over the years, I came to realize that she wasn’t a very nice person. In fact, she was downright mean. She’s since done a lot of growing up and apologized for being so nasty to everyone, and although I’m no longer in touch with her, the last time I was with her, she seemed to have blossomed into a wonderful and caring individual. So I don’t hold a grudge against her. I’m just stating facts.
So what’s the point of this post?
I don’t know.
Just wanted to share with you all the thoughts. Sometimes acknowledging the thoughts helps.