I have very few childhood memories. Why? Not sure. Hubs in the drop of a hat can share a childhood story in full detail, down to what he was wearing and the day of the week. His siblings will remember the story and fill in some of the blanks too. Why can’t I?
I always joke that I had some kind of trauma as a kid and I lost my long term memory. Obviously that’s not true (and a really bad joke) as I do have a few memories. More likely, a scent of something will bring me back (Yankee Candle’s Fresh Cut Roses always brings me to my grandmother’s garden in Colombia). I think about it from time to time, but then worry that I actually did suffer from something and my defense mechanism is to repress my memories so I stop trying to remember things from my childhood.
I didn’t mean to bring this to a dark place, and I don’t want you to feel bad or sorry for me. I’m happy with how I lived and I don’t regret the decisions I’ve made on my journey to get to where I am now. What I’m trying to say is that I initially wanted to start this blog as a way to preserve my memories. As a reminder of what I did and how I lived my life. Who I am sharing my life with at the time (obviously hubs, but friends also). This blog was (still is?) meant to be an online journal for me. An outlet to share what I’m feeling, doing, making, sewing, painting, etc.
Am I the only one with very few childhood memories?