Dave's Progress. Chapter 114: Speak, Memory.

The above title is taken from the autobiography of the great writer Vladimir Nabokov, who was most famous, perhaps, for writing "Lolita", that infamous tale of the academic Humbert Humbert and his perverted pursuit of under-age girls, or "nymphets", as he likes to call them in the text. Anyway, what better title for an autobiography, I thought, being, as an autobiography is, perhaps just a collection of one's past memories, all jotted down for everyone else to see. Hence the autobiography's reputation as an "unreliable" form because of its overwhelming subjectivity.
When my own memory "speaks", however, it does not tend to induce the feeling that I want to write down all that I remember. Indeed, my own memory seems to be littered with remnants of embarrassing behaviour, mistakes; things, generally, I shouldn't have done. OK, so I know I've suffered from what is regarded as perhaps the most severe of mental illnesses, and at some points that has been responsible for the things I've done, rather than any will of my own in my sane state. But, this doesn't stop the feelings of regret and sometimes, shame, at having behaved so abysmally.
It seems, also, that in this I am not alone. Reading through some blogs the other day, it became clear to me that those who have experienced mental ill health often have many regrets about their behaviour when ill. It is only when one comes down from an episode of illness that one's social conscience seems to kick back in and the feelings of embarrassment or shame begin. Sonya, over at "Not Singing the Bipolar Blues", has often spoken about this phenomenon, and for "TheraScribbles", who writes about her own experience of depression, it seems even insignificant events from the past can cause overwhelming feelings of embarrassment or regret. In her blog "Regrets, I've Had a Few" she explains this uncomfortable experience (and I hope she doesn't mind me quoting her here):
"I tend to dwell on things. Things that may have happened 20 years ago... or more. As I have discussed before, I also sometimes 'catastrophize' things. Combine those two things and you've got a recipe for more darkness. A fragment of a memory of something that happened in high school and has very likely been forgotten by all others concerned, can have a physical effect on me. When one pops up, I can feel it hit me like a briskly swung pillow. I usually openly and physically flinch when something like that enters my addled mind. It's quite ridiculous, in fact."
Well, I would say that it isn't ridiculous at all. I tend to do the same thing. Thera writes that the thing to do, then, is to learn from such errors and try to move on, thereby extinguishing some of the pain of such recall. For me personally, I think I have managed to do this. After a few years of now good mental health, I can begin to rationalise such thoughts, telling myself such behaviour was a result of really quite severe illness. Indeed, we are often taught by mental health services how to do this; by performing a sort of self CBT, we can turn negative memories into more positive thoughts. We are also told to try to live "in the present", and avoid too much rumination over either the uncertainties of the future or the downright embarrassments of the past. So, now, I can't change the past, but I know I can change the way I think about it.
Having said all that, this still doesn't entirely stop the operation of my memory, and sometimes it seems impossible to stop being bludgeoned with remembrances of my "madder" days. Indeed, I remember actually trying to write an autobiographical account of my descent into insanity, stopping after 7000 words, such was the deluge of shameful thoughts. Eventually, it began to feel like, perhaps, not a cathartic, but unhealthy exercise. Every time I would call on my memory, it seemed to come back to me carrying a tatty rag or a broken dream.
So, if all we have left at the end of life is our memories, better make some good ones, as the saying goes. And, I think, to end on a more positive note, I am in the process of doing just that. Or else, every time my memory "speaks", tell it emphatically to shut up.