Can't Remember, Can't Forget

Eye-Opening Moments Unleashed are real-life stories of adversity, encounters, and perspectives intertwined. They are moments that can lift your spirits, give you some food for thought, or move you. For the introspective mind that likes to reflect, discover, and find solutions or meaning in a complex life, this is for you. In this episode you will hear about Can't Remember, Can't Forget.

                                                                                       
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Transcript

Hello and welcome to episode #220 of Eye-Opening Moments Unleashed where you’ll hear stories of adversity, encounters, and perspectives intertwined. They are moments that can lift your spirits, give you some food for thought, or move you. For the introspective mind that likes to reflect, discover, and find solutions or meaning in a complex life, this is for you. I’m your host Emily Kay Tan. In this episode, you will hear about Can’t Remember, Can’t Forget. 

Can't Remember, Can't Forget

Sitting in the back seat with my six-year-old brothers in the car, I hear them talking about things they did when they were two or three. The two were engrossed in joyful conversation and oblivious to the fourteen-year-old me sitting beside them. I pondered what I did when I was two or three and could not remember anything. I could not believe the detailed memories they shared about what they played with or the things they did together. Silently, I sat, puzzled, disturbed, and troubled because I could not remember even one detail of myself when I was two or three or anything before five. I officially declared myself as abnormal.

I wanted to know something about myself before age five, but I couldn't remember. I never thought to ask my mother. I only silently interrogated myself. I could not find the answer. I never told anyone that I had zero memories before five; it was as if it were an embarrassing secret I held tightly close to me. 

Three years later, when I entered college at seventeen, I quickly chose Child Psychology or Child Development. I knew exactly what I wanted to study because I was on a mission. I wanted some childhood memories and to understand why I couldn't remember. I studied. Fascinated with my studies about children, I loved college, where I could express myself and learn interesting things. I studied and studied. I learned more about a child's mind, but did not learn why I had no memories of life before five. The disturbing feeling of not knowing or remembering simmered inside of me. Sometimes it bubbled and boiled repeatedly inside of me because no matter how much I studied, I could not find the answers to my loss of memory. I remember many aspects of my life, but why was it blank before age five?

A couple of years after college, I learned that Grandma Betsy had terminal cancer. That was when I spent more time with her than ever. It was a short but memorable time. Lounging in Uncle Sheldon's house, where he cared for her, I visited her on the weekends when I could catch an hour-long train ride. Walking around the house, Grandma Betsy mentioned a few memories of me when I was little. I had no recollection. The disturbing feeling of not remembering anything before five resurfaced. I told her I did not remember one detail. 

Uncle Sheldon stepped into the conversation to make matters worse. "Don't you remember? You set this chair in our concrete backyard. You kept moving it around like it needed to be placed precisely a certain way, and it was in the space in the middle of the backyard. It was so funny; don't you remember?" asked Uncle Sheldon. Grandma Betsy and Uncle Sheldon remembered something that happened over twenty years ago with me, but I didn't have any recollection. Uncle Sheldon could not believe I did not remember and kept asking. It was as if he were taunting me. I bubbled and boiled over inside because I could not find any memory of it in my memory bank.

On that same day, I learned I lived with Grandma Betsy when I was one. It was shocking news to me. I thought Mom had tossed me over to live with Grandma Sandy at five, and now I learned I was tossed over to Grandma Betsy at one. Scratching my head, searching through my brain, I could find no picture of me positioning and repositioning a chair in the middle of a backyard. I had no answer. The insides of me burned hot to no avail. 

As a teacher, I saw children daily. Surrounded by children for over thirty years, I found no clues to help bring any memories of my life before five. The act of Mom tossing me out at five was traumatic enough to affect many aspects of my life. Though this life has been filled with much adversity, the challenges and struggles have created an abundant and meaningful life. 

Nothing has triggered my existence before age five, but with a new narrative I have created, it comforts me to know that I have protected myself well. Perhaps I don't remember because it was too traumatic. Little Emily is still protecting me. She knows I have suffered much and refuses to let me suffer even more. And maybe some things are best left buried in the past.

As I continue to be baffled and fascinated by human selective memory, I wonder why I cannot forget or remove someone from my memory, while I could easily forget or not think about another person. 

Keith, my first love, my best friend, my soul mate, how could I forget him? It started when I was sixteen, but I believe I fell in love when I was seventeen. It seems like a lifetime ago, but he still enters my mind now and then, never leaving my side. I once said he stole a permanent seat in my heart because ideas and thoughts of him never escape me.

Before and during my first two years of college, we communicated regularly, but by my junior year of college, I heard nothing from him, and strangely, it didn't bother me because I was busy with school. However, two years later, when I was about to graduate from college, he found me and called me. It was as if no time had elapsed, and we reconnected again. Then it was an on-again-off-again relationship for the next nine years. Two weeks before I got married, I called him. It was my last-ditch effort to see if we would reconnect. He didn't stop me, so I married someone else. I thought that would be the end of us, but it wasn't.

Whenever I was in a bind, Keith was my confidant, savior, and comfort, and he'd help me solve my problems. What was I going to do without him after I got married?! I moved and needed a car. I wanted to buy one, but my new husband wouldn't allow it because he already had three cars. One was a big, clunky Oldsmobile; I was uncomfortable driving a big car. One was his favorite, and only he drove it. The third one was a stick shift, and I didn't know how to drive it. He tried to teach me, but was a horrible teacher and screamed the daylights out of me. I wanted to get an instructor, but he didn't want us to spend money on that. Yes, he was sounding like a difficult husband already, stubborn, anal, and controlling. My husband said we would only get another car if we sold the Oldsmobile, which had to be sold at the Blue Book price. He was making it difficult and did not think I could meet his demand. I only tried my best to please him and did not realize I was in a toxic relationship. Nevertheless, I tolerated, as I always did, many things. I didn't know how to solve the problem, so whom would I call?

At my wits' end, I called Keith; I could always count on him to help me solve my problems. Keith said that for an old clunker like that, no one would buy it at the Blue Book price, but he said he would buy it to help me. My best friend, my savior, came through for me. How could I not have a heart for him? How could I ever stop loving him? Even though he had proposed to me before, he was never the marrying kind. Keith and I had agreed not to be in contact after I married, but I was the one who broke our promise. I tried not to call, but I needed help badly. I told myself not to do it again, so it would be the end of us, but it wasn't.

Six years later, I called Keith again. This time it was for his advice. I wanted to divorce my anal and controlling husband. This was the first time Keith did not give me any advice and told me I needed to decide for myself. He let me down. In my anger and disappointment, I screamed, I hate him! He had yet another chance with me and didn't take it. I don't understand our strange and complicated relationship.

I got a divorce and told Keith three years later. He asked to visit me to see if I was okay. I said I was fine and there was no need. By then, I had a new boyfriend and didn't want to go on that rollercoaster ride of a relationship with Keith anymore. Keith insisted, and I couldn't resist his charm. Nervous and scared that I would not be able to control myself, I opened the door.

We went out to dinner, and then he came back to my place. He saw that I was uncomfortable. Then I resisted his advances and told him I had a new boyfriend. He stopped his advances. That was the last time I saw Keith. I will probably never see him again, but he shows up in my dreams now and then. Even when I am sleeping and unconscious, he manages to show up in my dreams.

While on the phone with a friend, I stared at my bedroom decor and realized that the stuffed animals of hugging mice on my bedroom bureau have been with me for over forty years. Keith gave it to me when I was seventeen and he was twenty-four. I have moved over a dozen times and brought it with me, no matter where I moved. I didn't even realize it until recently. He is always in my heart. I can't forget him. I could ache for him, but not want to be with him. It is complicated!

In my mature age, he dashes across my mind when I occasionally daydream about seeing him. I imagine that though it has been many years since I last saw him, I think I would still recognize him. I imagine myself going to a Buddhist temple and suddenly seeing him there. Our eyes meet, and our steps stop. His hair is gray, and mine is not yet gray. We gaze at each other, frozen, and then he slowly steps forward. My heartbeat pounds loudly, and I cannot continue the story. I am scared. I want him, but I don't wish to go on the rollercoaster ride. If I miraculously saw him, I would tell him I love him. But he would say, "I already know that." He could always read my mind. Perhaps that is why he has a permanent seat in my heart. I can't forget him. It is okay that I don't because he comforts my soul when I need someone to understand me without any words or actions.

I can't remember some things, like my life before age five, but some things may best be forgotten. I choose to believe that it is in my best interest. I am good at protecting myself, and the little Emily in me was correct in making that decision long ago. 

I can’t forget some things, like my first love, but he comforts my soul. I believe he stays with me to assure me that there is someone who truly understands me and is there to nudge me with encouragement when I need it. 

Some memories are pleasant, like Keith, so why forget them?! Some memories are forgotten or unpleasant; I can leave them behind, learn lessons, or create eye-opening moments that propel me to move forward positively.

Key Takeaway: Though I can't remember one thing, it may best be forgotten to protect me. Though I can't forget one person, he may be there to warm my heart.

Next week, you will hear a new real-life story called Unloved Because Unallowed. If you enjoyed this episode of Eye-Opening Moments Unleashed, please text someone and ask them what they think about this podcast, or go to www.inspiremereads.com and leave a message. Thank you for listening!