We don't always get to choose the memory that may start randomly playing in our heads. We may not even have control over how the memory plays. Sometimes the mind can only store a portion of the whole memory or it may not be 100% accurate. However it's remembered though can be influenced by our inner self. It may be a bad memory but based on certain circumstances it plays in a positive light in your mind.
For example; a memory I have as a young child is watching my dad and his friends gather around to snort lines of speed. In my mind my dad is smiling, even his friends and myself are smiling. I remember there being times one of his friends asked "Hey should we really be doing this in front of her?" Or maybe it was "Should she be in here when we're doing this?" Whatever the exact words were my dad replied something along the lines of "Oh yea she's fine. If you hide it from kids they wonder what's going on and get all nosy and curious. But if we act like its normal and not a big deal then she won't know the difference." The script in my head has everyone nodding in agreement and continuing on as if my dad made complete sense and it was almost ridiculous that the guys considered it wasn't ok.
The reason I think this memory is slightly altered is because this shouldn't be a memory that reveals itself as if it was a positive memory? My belief is that the reason this negative memories plays in a positive light in my memory is that I was a daddy's girl. I adored my dad and no matter what he did, my love for him was pure and unconditional. So in my head we are smiling as if we were playing UNO. When in reality I probably had a blank look at my dad hanging on to his words of reassurance and his friends were trying to ignore any conscious they might have had yelling at them this was wrong.
I don't remember accurately the way I felt in those moments, but I do know that I don't have a memory of never knowing my dad did drugs. My whole life this was the norm for me, and although there were times I used this to my benefit or to show how cool I was to have such a kick ass dad; deep down I hated it.
A memory that has been consistent my whole life is that I had always yearned for traditional parents and a traditional childhood-whatever that may be. Growing up with working parents who may argue too much or worry about bills seemed like the golden life to me. Even growing up going between homes of your divorced parents who may hate each other seemed like "the life"! No matter the situation at home with my friends' parents it couldn't be as bad as feeling like you weren't enough of a priority to your parents to want to take care of you.
How do you tell people, as a child, that you live with your overly strict grandparents because your parents had drug addiction beyond even your own understanding. I knew what my dad was doing, where he was going and who he was with. Even though I stayed with him on the weekends and he tried to make it over for dinner every night, I knew my dad so well I didn't have to be with him. I knew him too well! And what I did know was to embarrassing, too overwhelming and too much to believe for my friends.
My mother though was a different story. I didn't know a lot about why she wasn't around. How was I going to explain to other people why my older sister and younger brother were with my mother but I wasn't. It gave me feelings of embarrassment, shame and uncertainty. What was so wrong with me that my own mother wanted her other children, but wouldn't want me; the middle child. Would people look at me and think "Oh ok, yea I can see why her mother would have left her."
Even when I did get to see my mom, she was almost always so happy and giggly and sweet. There were the times I would spend the weekends with her, my older sister-Elizabeth Michael; my younger brother-Chris Edward; one of my younger step-sister-Tiffany Nicole; and my step dad-Travis. Mom and Travis would spend the whole weekend in their room. Sometimes I wouldn't see them at all for the whole entire weekend. But usually when i did see her she was so bubbly. Except when she was screaming at Elizabeth Michael. And if she was talking to Elizabeth Michael she was usually making fun of her, laughing at her or screaming at her.
Elizabeth Michael would stomp around whining and complaining about having to feed us and take care of us. I didn't know why she hated me so much. I just wanted to hang out with her and her friends. I was 7- she was 12, but years before that; when we still lived in Texas and mom and dad were still together; she loved me. We were best friends. She always tried to protect me and distract me during the screaming. We did everything together, we always had to get two of everything so the other one would get something too. Now after four years apart I was so happy to have my sissy back and expected she would feel the same. But to my surprise she wasn't happy at all.
Memories are how I'm able to replay these events and try to relay them in a message. Relay them in a way that people can sense what those moments brought, happy times, sad times and times of big changes. Remembering all of these times reminds me of the sadness in my heart as a child that turned into anger and meanness as a teenager. Now as an adult, wife and mother I am finding that these feelings are leaving me helpless and broken. The older I get the more I realize how I am accustomed to smiling through things that hurt me, just because its the norm. I smile and continue on as if I hadn't a care in the world, until I can't anymore. Than I get angry and furious to think that I am helpless and alone with feelings that I am forced to except.
So maybe a smile through the heartache is the same as a rainbow in a storm. The only way these painful memories are tolerable is by remembering everyone smiling and happy. Maybe these smiling happy people are also accustomed to smiling through the pain.
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