Rebounding Memories
Written by Alecs Kakon
Photos by Jen Fellegi
Some wounds run deep. Some scars don’t heal. Sometimes, despite our logical understanding and greatest effort to overcome, the body—its very constitution—holds onto memories that shape the way we interact with the world. Sounds a bit too ethereal, but the truth is, although we cannot always remember the reasons why we feel a certain way or do certain things, the root is there, buried deep somewhere in the past. There are many moments in my past that stand out and inform my actions in present day. There are some traumas and incidents that draw a clear line to the way I feel and behave. I believe we all have these past experiences, even if we aren’t aware of them. Although not in constant reaction to some of those stand-out events, they’ve been viscerally absorbed, and as they seep into my today, I take pause to think about how much I let in and how much I choose to let slip out. When I sat down with Myah, we took some time to talk about childhood, parenting, and the cycle that links the two in perpetuity. Her intellect abounds, and so rationalizing what gives her life purpose revealed the precise location where anxiety settles; an angst that supersedes happiness, a “huge undertow of ominous potential,” as she puts it.
A young mother of two, happily married to her best friend, Myah fills her days with work as a freelance decorator along with her endless motherly duties. Although she spent many years in retail and product development, it was not until she became a mother that Myah truly felt she had found a sense of purpose in life. Becoming a mom was a natural extension of a role she filled as a young girl. Having always felt a large responsibility to look out for her younger sister, Myah often found that she’d fend for and take care of her younger sister much like a mother. All but four years younger, Myah remembers: “My sister almost drowned in a hotel pool when she was 6 years old. Nobody noticed. She was under for so long. I just reached down and grabbed her. I can’t remember the details, but the memory is seared into my mind. I come back to it a lot, especially now with my own kids.” A traumatic experience to have lived at only 10 years old, the fear of losing the person closest to her, “my ally,” as she describes, is a memory that evokes sheer panic, even today. A vivid event that is now reignited as she rears her own children, it made me think about how we all trudge ahead, leading with our past. Our memories trigger us in more ways than we know and we can’t always rationalize the type of anxieties they provoke in us.
Our psychoanalytical forefathers have already well established that trauma leaves a trace on our bodies and minds. Always going back to that traumatic origin to find reason for present action, the traces have a stronghold in the way we think and feel about everything from ourselves to others. Another governing thought that comes to mind is the idea of the “eternal return” – living in an infinite cycle, the past existing in a never present. Both of these concepts crystallized as we continued to speak, thinking about how we are truly products of our past; our childhoods holding this hierarchical power over all subsequent experiences. For some, this may not ring true. But for those who have lived through hardship or pain in their formative years, it seems virtually impossible that the origin, that trigger, isn’t obviously transplanted into adulthood. As a child who was faced with the angst of losing the person who made her happiest, it’s only natural that today, the happiness she derives from her own children is fraught with worry, because “what if they are taken away from me?” Wanting to forge a new path in her own mothering, Myah devotes her time and energy to creating a home for her children that honours their innocence, rebounds their unconditional love, and meets all expectations. “It’s exhausting,” she laughs hesitatingly. “It’s exhausting because I feel so much pressure to never disappoint them.” It’s only when she takes a step back, sharing a moment of connection with her husband as they give gratitude for the overwhelming love and luck they feel with respect to their children, that she feels that much-needed calming force that reminds her that she is here, in the present—a logical certitude that needs to be constantly reiterated for fear of vicissitude.
Having kids has been a paralyzing, yet transformative experience in her life. Being completely overthrown by the responsibility of having a child, Myah instantly knew the magnanimous task she was up against, but in that same breath she morphed from child to mom, and just like that, she was all grown up. Shedding those excess layers of her own disappointment, and even hope for what could’ve been in her own life, she concentrates her efforts on being present, showing up, and just being there for her children. Sounds simple, but that which links our childhood to parenting and back around again is one that is irrevocably tied, and so to persevere despite the flinching fear of recurrence is not a feat that should be underestimated. And, as we grow to accept that the life cycle of a memory might never break, we rise above in hopes that with a lot of self-reflection and determination, the cycle can be rerouted.
