Maybe I do need therapy.
It's strange. You will be having the most normal boring day, doing the most normal boring thing and then it hits you. Something happens and it hits you like a tonne of bricks. It's usually a mindless memory, something seemingly completely innocent, but when it comes, beware, here comes the emotional rollercoaster. Can't help it, can't help yourself. This memory, this thought takes over and it feels like a trap. But it's not a trap, it's just a thought. Just a memory of something that happened recently or not and did not cause turmoil, just brought another, older memory. A memorinception if you will. Still, it did nothing at a time. Sure it stung a bit, as normal, but nothing rollercoastery. And there you are, hours, days maybe even weeks after the now identified culprit of the memory came back to haunt you: "Sorry, I'm a little late, but I'm new to this job and I was not aware I was supposed to cause much more fuss. Here it is, big box, wrapped nicely and everything"
Gee, thanks.
You showed me a message you received. Something you are proud of, something that kindles you joy. You wanted to share, as we do, pack animals and all, you wanted to share your joy and happiness. It stung a little. I could have said something, but what is the point? I say something, I ruin your day too. I say something, the whole night shot. I say something, I taint that memory for you. What's the point? It's not like we have not been there before. It always ends the same, it's never different. There's no point expecting anything else. Why ruin the good thing for you? This way, at least not everyone is stung a little.
That year you went out of your way and got thoughtful gifts with different inscriptions for 30 people. And on the Christmas morning I woke up to a note under the tree "Gift still in the shop". It's family, so they must love you no matter what, the efforts differ.
And in that moment, holding back the tears, but continuing with your day as normal, you suddenly feel such urge to hug that little girl, to hug so hard it hurts, you almost sense wrapping your own hands around yourself, because that is all that little girl can get right now. You want to make it better, but you know you can't. You want to tell her it gets better, but here you are, standing in a supermarket's parking lot, trying not to cry. So silly, you smile.
The axe forgets, but the tree remembers.
How much we forget over the years. One day we made a thing, we had a conversation, we did an act and we forgot about it, but the person who's life you changed, or at least impacted significantly, at least for a little while, remembers. It's humbling to learn it, after oh so many years. Hell, you need to be reminded first, let the memory do it's job, bring back the carefully archived folder. Yep, there it is, the conversation, the person, the everything. Archived under 'unimportant'. Okay, time for a little re-organization.
It's a good feeling. Even if it doesn't take you anywhere, it's a good reassuring feeling, that maybe, just maybe, you are actually alright.
From the books:
“And once the storm is over, you won’t remember how you made it through, how you managed to survive. You won’t even be sure, whether the storm is really over. But one thing is certain. When you come out of the storm, you won’t be the same person who walked in. That’s what this storm’s all about.”
