Memories - a constant companion.

The curse of a perfect memory
The 'woman who can't forget' talks about her life

Ms. Price can remember what happened every day since 1980 and most days since 1974. She will tell you if someone famous died, or if there was an earthquake, an election or another major news event.
She especially remembers what she was doing at any given moment.

In her newly released memoir, The Woman Who Can't Forget, Ms. Price describes her remarkable faculty, explaining that while she can summon her memories at will, some flash through her mind all day long.

"It is like breathing or dreaming. I can't control it," she says. "It is as though I'm actually living through them again."

Imagine reliving every fight you ever had with a parent or a close friend, every insult that rankled, every devastating, sad and humiliating moment of your life. Imagine never truly leaving your toddler and teenage years behind.

"It is hard to grow up," Ms. Price says, "when you are always walking beside yourself."

At 34, after years of anxiety over how her memories were holding her back, Ms. Price finally decided to look for answers about what was going on in her brain.
Her case offered an unprecedented opportunity to learn more about how the rest of us store, retrieve and manage a lifetime of memories, a process scientists don't understand.

Full story here.
What a remarkable story!! Read especially the book excerpt: A gift, at long last, out of the childhood traumas on page 4.

I, too, have traumatic memories from my childhood, and I'm sure my children in turn have theirs.

If nothing else, this story raises awareness that we all should tread a little softer!

Memories are both useful and sometimes dreadful at the same time. Why do we remember what we remember? Would it be reasonable to suggest that those events that have tremendous emotional impact on our lives are processed more directly into memory than say a large number of other things? I have no "use" for the memory of watching a man wailing his lament over the burnt and broken body of his son clutched to his bosom as the bombers which just napalmed his villiage can still be heard in the distance leaving the site of their carnage behind.....

I have no "use" for the memory of a young child clinging to me and refusing to go back to the broken dysfunctional drug-ridden abusive environment he was "rescued" from then placed in my care.....

I have no "use" for the memory of a smiling radiant face brought back from the brink of oblivion after being resustitated from spending a few dark lonley moments at the bottom of a cold dark river.....

I have no "use" for the fear and the love and the elements of shared humanity that play across the faces of people I've been touched by.......

And yet these memories are the clearest and the most terrifying and the most closely guarded of a lifetime of memories....

Perhaps memories tell us something about ourselves......
My memories tell me to do good, to do good better and to do good now. Those same memories build what is good. They are bad memories of deficient good. Moving forward-----------ha

Similar Threads

Fans mad for Doctor's new companion
by Blackleaf | Mar 31st, 2007
A constant state of dread
by I think not | Jan 23rd, 2007
Constant awarnes of onself.
by china | Dec 26th, 2006