Scene 16 - My First Memory

 *****************Scene 16 - My First Memory*************

Now, my first memory, it’s just a flash - a picture in my head,
but
I remember I’m sitting in my wheelchair at Magee Rehabilitation,
my best friend Ryan is sitting across from me, and we’re -
talking about something -
and my parents and Ryan’s parents and standing by the window,
the afternoon sunlight is streaming in,
and they’re Laughing about…
something

I don’t know what they’re laughing at -
don’t remember what Ryan and I are actually talking about,
like I said, its just a picture in my head,

But I’ve Described this picture to the people who were there,
and They DO remember what was happening because I had just told my first story,
well, Ryan and I were telling it together -

I began with me telling a dream I had had in which my favorite rock band,
the band Phish,
had decided to throw a charity concert at Magee Rehabilitation Hospital,
and because it was my dream, they decided to throw the concert in My room,

and here Ryan jumps and says that if they’re playing the concert in my room, I should be allowed to jam with them,
and so I ask the keyboardist if I can sit in, and he says “Sure, why not.”

so I sit down at the piano and we begin this 7 hour
musical improvisation,
that explores the depths of the question What is Music,

continuing until Dogs
begin to climb out of the piano,
all sizes,
dogs just, woof woof
start chasing everyone around

so the drummer needs to step out from behind the drums,
pull out his, uh
vacuum cleaner,
use the hose to just SUCK up the dogs,

Now the guitarist, Trey,
he’s Freaking out so bad the bassist just needs to turn to him, says,
“Hey, Trey man, mellow.”

Meanwhile I’m flying overhead,
like this - Superman -
watching all this chaos unfold…

and I’ve been told that this first story was…
interesting…

*****************************************************************************

Memories are stories. 

We remember events - create memories - because we compose a narrative structure that entwines moments together and this allows the infinite collection of sensory information to exist as a simplified, comprehensible package of cause/effect relationships.

Memories are these stories that we create.

Even memories that serve a function - remembering to brush your teeth or your schedule for the day - are held because they are attached to some story - the parable of the girl who got terrible cavities and lost her teeth - or the future storyline of what you anticipate tomorrow’s events will be.  Granted, habitual action is often not recognized as being attached to a story, but if you delve into the question of Why you do an action, there’s a story behind it, sometimes, simply a story of tradition - my family comes from a long line of people who use toothpaste at least twice a day.

Now, the extent to which all information we retain in our minds is this story form of memory can be debated - there can be discussion of alternative forms of physical or emotionally subconscious recollection of information, but for this posting - discussing a conscious memory of an event - I hold that when a person says “I remember when ‘Event X’ happened”, that person is necessarily referring to a story based memory - a story the person has created with or without outside influence. 

This is important to recognize because the scene presented above has been dubbed the first memory I had after the accident - and it remains in my mind as the series of images and emotional sensations described above - but I suggest that the reason that this remains my “first memory” is because I have so clearly (and some might say eloquently) composed a literary/oral story containing these events that is easily accessed because of its memorable content and repeated tellings.  Had this moment not been so clearly codified, I suggest that it would have drifted away to bask amid the aether of past consciousnesses in a similar way the memory of my breakfast on April 18th, 2013 is no longer with us.

Granted, that first memory after my trauma is imbued with substantially more significance than breakfast on a random day, and even had I not composed a storytelling piece there is a chance I would continue to find moments of this memory returning, but it is far less likely. 

You’ll also notice that the event which my brain first recalled was an event that contained some out-of-the-norm moments - stories tend to form around such out-of-the-norm moments, and although during my early recovery I did not recall the details of this story, when interviewed my friends and family were quick to remember what was happening.  I believe this is due to the fact that the situation lent itself to a simple story form.  Furthermore, I hypothesize that my mind decided to “hit record” at this moment because it naturally attempted to format this situation into a story for retelling, though at the time my mind had difficulty cementing the majority of details in an easily accessible storage bank.

Please note, in most cases I do not think we consciously compose stories so that we can recall events - instead, I hold that the human mind has evolved to embrace stories and, commonly without prompting, naturally arranges experience into story form - not necessarily interesting or highly refined stories, but simple stories nonetheless.  This is just how our memory works.

Having established that memory is a story, it is also important to recognize that memories are not static - memories change over time as the story becomes revised and/or new information is discovered.  We can also choose to “adjust memories” by telling the story to ourselves in a different way.  By revising or “rewriting” a story, a person is able to come to a different understanding of past events and potentially sooth anger, pain, or frustration that remains trapped within an memory and causes stagnation of personal growth.

This is a powerful tool - using investigative and/or creative reasoning combined with our story-susceptible minds to alter one’s memory - and I will pause here to acknowledge that this can be a dangerous tool.  One can easily imbue memories with false events or interpretations - positive or negative - that leave one susceptible to alluring and/or dangerous situations, and insisting upon a fallaciously positive interpretation of abuses is a danger that must be recognized.  I cannot comment further on this, as this is not my area of study, but I do want to be clear that I recognize that, as with many powerful tools, adjusting one’s interpretation of memories has potential for both good and danger.

That acknowledged, I want to recognize a way that this ability can be beneficial after a trauma and to show how personal storytelling can help in this process.  Please know, when I use terms such as “storytelling” or “storyteller”, I do not mean to imply this is a story for public presentation - the pressures of a performance may place stress upon a person and hinder the story formation process.  A story is an individual’s construction that may be shared as public art or for individual therapy as the storyteller wishes, though I do encourage some small, informal sharing of the story with close family, friends, or perhaps a councilor to achieve the full benefit of this process.

That said…

By recognizing that a memory is a story, a person is better able to objectify an experience - it is no longer a personal experience, but the experience of the narrator (who just happens to be the storyteller).  This helps to remove the storyteller (who experienced a trauma) from the immediacy of a painful memory - helping to see the experiences as events that happened, but are no longer happening.

Furthermore, a story requires certain structural elements - beginning, middle, end, and some sort of cause-effect relationship that allows the events to be understood.  Placing this requirement upon oneself allows the storyteller to understand the sequence of events that resulted in a trauma or caused difficulties in a recovery - no longer is it just - “Shit happens” - but becomes “This is why this particularly shit happened.”  By creating a logic largely based upon fact - though possibly dressed with some artistic embellishment - a storyteller is able to better see the whole of a situation surrounding a painful memory.  This helps the storyteller to move away from the idea of this event “being a terrible thing that happened to me” and seeing that said event affected many people, and the storyteller’s experience is part of a far greater picture - the aim not being to minimize a storyteller’s personal experience, but to move away from an egocentric focus that can develop after a tragedy.

Furthermore, by objectifying a story, a storyteller can more easily see why other people choose to react to events surrounding the storyteller’s trauma in a particular way.  The people who were part of the recovery experience after the tragedy become characters in a story, and by exploring these characters, the storyteller is able to understand or create a logic for their actions - providing characters with a reasonable, non-malicious motivation can help the storyteller recognize and empathize with characters that may have seemed confrontational or were viewed as “the enemy” while the initial events of the trauma were occurring.

For my experience, I found that the process of turning my events into a story allowed me to see how fortunate I was - I did go through a traumatic experience, but I lived.

I worked my ass off in recovery for years - formal therapeutic sessions as well as personal growth - and am still experiencing some effects of what I believe is from the brain trauma nearly two decades after the incident, but I am living.

The good fortune surrounding my recovery has been shared with me countless times, but it was by researching and creating a story that I was able to fully recognize and appreciate what my body and soul did and how necessary the countless professional and personal saviors were in this process.

I’ve also been able to bring some personal peace to how some relationships played out.  The most prominent of these is my relationship with my parents - I can better understand how they treated and tried to protect me in the years following my accident - why they restricted me in a manner contrary to what I felt was right.  Furthermore, I can more fully appreciate all they have done for me and how hard they worked to provide what they though was best. 

This is not meant to proclaim storytelling as a “fix it all” technique - nothing should be proclaimed as such - but it is a tool and can be deeply therapeutic if used properly.  Memories are personal creations we keep in our mind that having a strong effect on most decisions we make.  If we can use a tool - such as storytelling - to mold these memories in a manner that helps us make more beneficial decision, I suggest we use it.

Thems be my ideas on the subject.  What are yours?  Any questions?  Counter arguments?  Agreements?  Academic articles?  Personal examples of the benefits of storytelling? 

Leave comments below - I look forward to hearing from you.