Archive for January, 2010

memory banks

January 2, 2010

Many new things come with a new year, my personal favorite is the excitement of buying a new planner. Why is it that I decide that the changing from one day to the next will result in a whole new system of organization, a whole new me? I know a lot of people find themselves thinking this way, but I am always surprised by how each and every year I am overwhelmed by the need to re-evaluate everything.

Not only did I get a RAD planner for the year, but I also just cleaned out an old box in a closet, and cleaned my makeup brushes! This is clearly the sign of a new, balanced, better me.

Why this makes me feel so productive, I have no idea. It is something that I should do A LOT more often than I do… as in, I don’t really know that I have ever done it.

Upon clearing out an old box, I came to the conclusion that while I may consider myself someone who enjoys purging things from my life, I also teeter on a strange line of hoarding, in little ways. This box has been moved with Man-Friend and I into three different homes. As I went through it, I found that I bought a lot of random medical things (blister stuff, eye drops, mouth pain numbing stuff) some time prior to 2007. Almost half of the items in the box expired in 2007. This made me wildly aware of my need to go through my shit. It also made me aware of how much I do not use that fake skin liquid stuff to put over blisters.

I guess I might have a little tendency to hoard garbage.

This awareness has come at interesting timing. Not only is it the start of a new year, a prime time to get rid of the trash in our lives, but it also comes at a point in my life where I have been reflecting a lot.

As I mentioned previously, one of the things I learned in 2009 was about breaking up with a therapist. I am a huge advocate of going to therapy. It is something that I wish was a rule. I wish that everyone had to see someone to talk about themselves, at least at some point in their lives. After ending my relationship with a fantastic therapist that I had for many years, I took a break. I felt the need to take some time off, which proved to be helpful in a lot of ways. I also realized that I am a person who can really benefit from having someone to bounce my thoughts and experiences off of. Having ended the past relationship, I decided that starting fresh with someone new would be a good experience for me.

I have met with said new therapist for a few weeks, and so far, I feel like it is going pretty well. One of the things that I am trying to do, upon her recommendation, is write more. Not writing on this blog, although I am trying to do that more, too, but to write to just think and get my thoughts out. When I asked last week what I should be writing about, the suggestion was to write about where I see myself in 5 years.

How very job interview-esque.

In reality, I don’t think this is a bad idea, I just have always struggled with this question. Or rather, the answer to this question.

The idea of 5 years in the future is something that I cannot really wrap my mind around. I am still struggling with the fact that it is 2010 and I am not zipping around in a hover car. In fact, I have still never owned a road driving car.

I also have been struggling with a simpler question. A question that should not stress me out, but strangely, kind of does. Would it be easier for me to write these thoughts by hand or by typing? I have always felt like my thoughts run through my brain too fast to write down. In the past, anytime I have kept journals, I have always felt that my hands don’t move fast enough to keep up. At the same time, there is something gross about keeping a journal of word documents on my computer.

I guess I could pretend like I am starting that book I have always thought of writing. I don’t know.

The other things that I am finding, is that the stories I share with this new therapist, are told in a rather matter of fact way, or, as she says, in a rather stoic way. In all honesty, I consider myself to be an overly emotional extravaganza of a talker, so this was a surprise to me. She is surprised each and every week by how I tell these stories of my past without flinching, without catching my quivering breath to control any sort of outpouring of emotion.

It is what it is, is what I say. The past cannot be changed, and most days, I like who I am now. Who is to say that I would not be the me I know now if those things had not occurred.

I will say that as I have had to go through my history with someone new, I am shocked by the many memories that I carry with me, but don’t realize it. As I was telling random stories, I found my brain discovering details that had to have been pushed deep into the core of my memory bank. I was intrigued by this, and am curious to hear what else is going to come out.

With all of this in mind, I am tempted to start writing these stories down as well. I want to keep these memories, I don’t want to lose them like so many that have already disappeared from my brain.

The most important thing with these memories, in my opinion, is that I don’t lose the good ones.

My friends will often make fun of me often for a tattoo that I have. I got this tattoo prior to seeing a movie that has a reference to the same idea, in fact, I think it was before this movie may have been created, but everyone still considers it to be my devotion to said random action/thriller movie. I still stand by this fact, although I do find myself extremely embarrassed if anyone realizes that they have heard this somewhere.

If you think about all of the memories that you really hold on to– the ones that still are carried with you the most, chances are– they are memories that invoked either tears or laughter. Smiles and cries are some of the most significant representations of what our brains are experiencing. The chemicals that are pumped through our melons during these times are what makes these the memories.

While I believe that letting go of some  portions of our pasts (it is what it is) is a good thing, I also hope to carry the lesson, the smile, or the cry that came with it in my heart.



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