44. Mental Memory Boxes

I stubbornly hold on to knick-knacks, trinkets, letters, and photos from my childhood (as well as from both my girls' childhood; how many of us moms have kept every scrap of artwork from our kids' preschool days... I know I'm not alone here!).  There is absolutely nothing wrong with this--it's healthy, comforting, and oftentimes entertaining. I've lost track of how many psychology-based books and articles I've read this year, and have not come across one word condemning moderate possession of keepsakes.

Conversely, keeping memories of loved ones, and days gone by, is also healthy.  We all had good times with the man who left us; this is why his departure from our lives broke our hearts, is it not?  Personally, thinking about my married life, and the ensuing sadness that always arises, is the single biggest struggle I face with my separation. Intrusive memories crash down like waves that wash me out to sea, where I have no solid ground with which to regain my footing. While I'm treading water in those cold depths I can barely catch my breath, much less get myself together.

And let's face it: intrusive memories that make us cry are rarely the bad, ugly, traumatic ones.  I don't recall ever tearing up over thoughts of arguing over which coffee to buy and whether I talk too much; I have never cried thinking about my ex cursing me at the top of his lungs, oh no! The memories that get me are the sunset walks, naming the new puppy, pillow fights.

Sound familiar, yes? Ah... but it's all normal! It's a required part of the healing process. Like it or not, crying about sweet memories will make you stronger someday. It did me!

Letters, pictures, artwork, are all healthy trinkets we can physically hold in our hands. We look, feel, sometimes smell the keepsake and remember the day we obtained it, or the day it was created. In the same way, remembering something we and our ex did together doesn't fulfill any of our five senses, so our brain creates it's own form of trinket in the form of a vivid memory.  We allow the good memories to arise and take over because they are as close to physically touching, seeing, hearing, tasting, and smelling our ex, as we can get.

But when does healthy memory-caching become unhealthy? Look again at my sentence above regarding the books and articles I've read:  I 'have not come across one word condemning moderate possession of keepsakes.'  We've all seen or heard of the TV programs about hoarders--people who cannot seem to let go of anything, and how their homes become unsafe, unsanitary death-traps with narrow pathways cutting through here and there. Sisters, please examine whether your memories--your keepsake boxes--are becoming too full.  Because if they become too full and you keep adding to them, they will, like the hoarders on TV, become unsafe death traps.

One way you can turn your mental keepsakes box, something you can't just close up and put away on a shelf when you're through looking at it, into a tangible one that you can have some control over, is to write. For me, keeping a journal (my blog) has been one of the best tools of recovery I possess. When I feel sad or out of control with a stubborn intrusive memory I pop out my laptop and start writing.

You don't need a laptop, a desktop, a top of any kind.  You don't need a fancy leather-bound journal with JOURNAL embossed on its cover; you don't even need a plastic one, phooey! All you need to convert your mental keepsakes box to a physical one is a pen and some paper.  Use a 99-cent notebook from the Dollar Store.  Use a cheap pack of binder paper and a stapler. Just WRITE. No rules of grammar, no spell-check, just you and your paper.  When you finish I promise you will feel better. Especially once you take the page in your hand and place it on a shelf.

Take control of your memories. Write.