I am pretty sure that everyone who is reading this piece has a collection of pictures in albums, boxes, or maybe in a picture catalog they have made that reflects many of your memories throughout life. And most of these memories are of good times, family events, maybe even some challenging times. Rarely do any images present dark memories. These pictures seem to never be included in our picture taking. And probably for good, and appropriate, reasons.
So, when I began my therapy sessions, and since the conversations between me and my therapist were not only about my current experiences and challenges related to my current events, now our conversations are also starting to go back to the earlier days of my life. I think my therapist was searching for the memories that were ghosting me and what they might reveal about where I have come from and to where I might be going with my new beginnings.
These conversations about my younger and youthful memories made me think about the many images stored inside my brain so much so that I began to look for the box of pictures from my younger days. I really don’t have any picture albums that I remember. Maybe they might be hiding in another storage container. And throughout the years of moving, I have lost many pictures of me, and most of the pictures I still have were now stored in a small box. I always hoped that I would find more.
I have also been captivated by all of my thoughts about those who have lost their box of pictures, or their albums of captured memories to natural and man-made disasters. While I didn’t know that feeling personally, I do share that feeling of loss for all of the pictures of memories lost to these events. To lose the images that support and help you recall your past life history is tragic.
So, when I found the box of pictures buried in a storage container, I started looking through the pictures so my brain could begin to visually energize my seeing myself in my younger days. WOW! The recalled memories that were now going through my mind were amazing. And then a couple of memories surfaced that I didn’t know how to feel about. And memories recall all of the experiences realized in your life no matter what they are.
I have had a number of questionable experiences in my younger days, and in my teenage years, that possibly took me in different directions emotionally. Some of these experiences are very similar to the ones you hear about in the news, or what you might have experienced at the movie theater. It is almost as though when we are young and still growing and maturing others see that as an opportunity to exploit your place in life. This is the dark side of the moon to say.
On the other side of the moon is the brightness of your youth. These are the memories that build your joyful and playful character. These are the memories that will, in time, overcome any dark memories that you have. These are your good memories.
I would say that the combination of the memories of darkness and the memories of the bright and happy times are the ones that help develop your strengths as a young person moving towards the future. This building of character is so important to how you, as a young adult or even as a mature adult, will overcome the challenges that you will face in your journey through life. My perspective is that memorialized experiences build your character and your strengths.
As I continued to fumble through the many, many pictures of me I realized that this box of pictures stopped when I was a very young adult. There was nothing after that last picture of me in my early twenties. This in a way was tragic. This revealed that at least thirty or more years of my life was now missing. I knew there were pictures of me, but where were they. I think that this is the realization that others feel when their pictures that reinforce their memories are suddenly taken away.
And with my parents and grandparents being gone I felt that there was no one to reach out to for help in finding my lost past that would have been captured in pictures. Yes, I do have a stepsister close to my age, but we have not communicated since early in this century. Maybe she has some of my adult memories.
I met her for the first time after I turned twenty-one when I moved to Florida to live with my father and his family. Maybe there is another box hidden somewhere in the attic of a distant family member. Or maybe residing on someone’s bookshelf, or in a memory chest. For now, I need to accept that my life from my adult years, and all of the many pictures taken during this time now live only in my mind, in my personal storage silo.
Or maybe…
“Follow my story for new vignettes, picture in the Gallery”