Sharing Histories: Weekly Reflections on a Personal Journey

Tuesday Reflections on my journey towards a computational model of dissociative amnesia

As I reach the end of a pivotal time in my project, I’ve stopped to reflect on how I don’t always stop to appreciate the emotional weightiness of this task. I’m too busy barreling my way through it. But every so often, my body will force that pause on me. I spend a day or two unable to relax and mentally frozen. This is usually preceded and/or concluded by a bout of anger and irritability. At people. At society. And I wake up the next day feeling much lighter.

In alignment with my intention last week to be more present, I was invited to a yoga class by a kind person in my life. It came the day after one of these freezes and was just what I needed. We spent the time moving our bodies, sometimes in structured movements and sometimes freely like a dance. As we moved our hands in unison up in the shapes of flowers, I was hit with the image of my own inner child who loved to dance and play-pretend.

“I miss her,” I thought. “I need to find her more.”

My thoughts drifted to that little girl, who wished for world peace on every fountain and at every blowing of birthday candles. I did really want world peace. But sitting deeper with myself as an adult in child’s pose, it hit me that deep down, I felt a bit guilty asking for anything else. As I stopped to make a wish, I was always hit with a touch of anxiety that I would waste something so grand as a wish on a toy or pink hair or a pet dragon. If I had the chance to enact world peace with my limited 8 year old power, it would be wrong not to take it.

I’ve been reading “Why Men Love Bitches” by Sherry Argov this week. I was inspired to purchase the book after a conversation with yet another woman in my life who over-gave and under-received. Deep down, I wanted to hate it. I wanted to see it as some archaic, outdated advice, a relic of the 2000s. But I won’t lie, it was still pretty much exactly true. Of course, that was frustrating as much as it was enlightening. It brought up frustration as I read some (sadly very apt) advice on how exactly how to navigate the little boy in every man who wanted to escape their mother, but still looked back to see if she was waiting for him. I had a lot of “why are men like this” type of reflections along the way (especially this Friday as I read unfortunate news about the sexual abuses inflicted by labor unionist Cesar Chavez).

But… the beauty of “Why Men Love Bitches” is that I was not spared from the judgement. Why are women like this? How silly do we look sometimes sacrificing everything? Why do we feel so compelled?

As my body has felt weighty and painful at the end of this project, as I’ve reflected on my little self’s desire for world peace, and as I’ve read some sadly still relevant 2000s dating advice, I’ve had a hard think about how much I over-give. I save very little for me a lot of the time. I throw myself into the places I love with a lot of passion, and a lot of guilt. If I have something to give, I feel I must give it.

My time with this work has been no exception. This project has increased my sense of control in the world significantly. I saw something that seemed impenetrable, I found a sensitive spot, and I didn’t stop until I filled the gap. I feel powerful. I thought I could take on the world and I did and I could. I feel empowered by the idea that the issues we face collectively have a way out. We’re not stuck. The unfortunate downside to this realization has been that suddenly I feel a massive responsibility over everything. The world is burning. The Epstein files keep getting darker. Our government is covering up their crimes by bombing school children. What can I do? How much more of myself can I give?

I was reminded recently of a story my mom told me of when she was my age and going to therapy. She would always find some connection between herself and all the difficult things happening in her personal life - the pain of a neighbour, the bad mood of a friend. She felt guilty and responsible even in ways that didn’t seem to make much sense, and she would ruminate over that endlessly. Upon telling this to her therapist, the therapist stared at her incredulously. “You’re not God. You can’t be responsible for everything in the world.”

I’ve been having to remind myself the same thing recently. I’m not God. I can’t fix global warming and a dictatorship and racism and… and… and… I just can’t do it all. I think I did a pretty good job at my one thing though. Good job, me.

My anxiety has had me reflecting on why community is so important, and what I’ve been lacking in not having the time to build one. I forget that everybody is working on something. It’s not me against the world. As horribly guilty as I feel over this climate crisis, someone is out there tearing into it with the same fervour I tore into my issue with. They couldn’t do this science project but I could. In the same way, I’ll let them inspire me with their ability to see the holes that I can’t see.

I’ve also been reminding myself to give a little less and embrace selfishness. We attach such a negative connotation to selfishness. But a bit of selfishness sometimes is important. It reminds us that we need someone to give to us too. So with these thoughts in mind, I finished yoga class (concluded by this beautiful finger painting), wandered around on a beautiful sunny London day (on a day I would usually lock myself inside to make sure I get my work done), and drank a mulled pear matcha. And I felt replenished and ready to start again.

Last week, I also spoke about how this process has been difficult to wrap my head around in all of its amazingness. So later this week, I also took some time to create a personal archive of this process. I was inspired by my sister and I’s trip to the Design Museum to see “Wes Anderson: The Archives”.

I took some time when I got home to go through my countless papers and mementos and think about what has been important to me about this process, from university to now. I reread some papers that were painful in the past, and took some time to recontextualize them in the wake of my newfound internal power. I saw my whole story from beginning to end and really took in the epic tale that this has been for me. It made me feel bigger and more at peace.

And with that, this week’s goal is to give to myself the way I give to society and to other people. And to be still more and love where I am in my own personal history. It has a funny way of writing itself when you step back for a minute.