If you can’t trust yourself, who can you trust?

I’m realizing that the narrative in my head is not quite complete. Nope. That is not even a fair description. It is totally inaccurate.

When reading THIS. It was like I was reading someone else’s story. My eyes rapt with this stranger’s tragedy. Turns out depressive people like tragedies.

Note: I have NOT watched the Hands Maid Tale. Oh, I want to, but thank you blog for that warning.

Reading that post was like learning this story for the first time. Huh? How does that make sense? Didn’t I experience it?! 

I mean I know those things happened, but I don’t remember them like that at all.  I forgot that these events even occurred in the same day. That all of that happened within 18 hours. That Jacob had surgery and a blood transfusion in one day with two separate trips to the hospital. You would think that would be something a mother would remember?! I don’t even remember having to hold him down against his will, the kicking, the screaming. Most of my memories are of Jacob walking himself in, sitting on the table, and asking when the sleepy medicine starts. 

Over the last two years I even told myself a little lullaby. I reminded myself that I never had to do something against Jacob’s will. How lucky am I.  I had seen so many other parents have to. But yet that inner mantra…isn’t quite true.

Oddly, I do recall the man almost dropping a hammer on Jacob’s head. I remember that vividly. I can even see the person’s face. I remember screaming. Pushing them out the door as they screamed at me in Spanish. 

I know this writer is telling the truth.

It seems it’s me who has been making stories of my story.

But why?

I wonder if that is a me thing?

But looking at research it seems to be an us thing. Trauma or not, our memories are highly impressionable and completely inaccurate. Our brains are not recorders, they are analyzers. They don’t play back a movie, but rather play an episode of Siskel and Ebert. You get to watch the movie with a specific lens (good/bad) through a few snippets of the film that may not even be in chronological order.

I’m with you Ebert. Siskel you got this one wrong. Two thumbs down all the way.

So if its all bullshit…what does that mean? If you rest your identity on a tale, is life just that a tale?

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