You Remember More Of Your Childhood Than You Think

I used to be certain that most of my childhood memories were simply gone, lost with the journals I threw away; lost with the trauma’s I’ve endured. This was something I’d accepted. It became a fact of life.

A few years ago, I was trying to remember a bet my husband and I had made. I’d won, so it was super important. (We bet in $2 bills and he had yet to pay up.) Where the heck were we? I caught myself using visualization to remember the bet. It was only when I pictured us in the car on our way through Montana that the lightbulb went on. Not just remembering the bet, but an idea for recalling parts of my childhood. Could it be possible to gather all of the memories I thought I’d lost of my childhood based on focusing on specific locations?

It was actually a lot easier to remember things when I actively sat down, imagined a location, and wrote down everything I could possibly think of in that one specific spot. I’d close my eyes and find myself in my childhood bedroom, my barbie dream house in the corner, my stuffed animals neatly arranged on the bed… my boombox playing the brand new Shania Twain ‘Come On Over’ album in the background.

That was when the concept of the Remembering Me Journal came. You use your senses to remember as much as possible, jot each one down very briefly, and then you create a timeline of your life.

This may be the first journal in the Creating Me Journal Series, but it was actually the fourth conceptualized journal. I knew enough of my past to be able to fill out the facts of my life in the Collecting Me Journal; when you were born, your first car, the name of your first kiss. The memories that someone wouldn’t think to ask were the ones I found myself missing most. And for whatever reason, not having those memories was gut wrenching. Maybe it’s because I’d chosen to give them away at 25, sending my childhood journals to the dump.

For years, I told myself I’d thrown away more than just paper. I’d chosen to simply toss away pieces of myself. Every birthday I couldn’t remember. The average Thursday afternoon. Every tiny story that made me who I am today.

I think that’s part of why I’m so passionate about documenting life now. We assume we’ll remember the moments that matter. We don’t. The ordinary moments quietly become the foundation of who we are, and decades later we find ourselves desperately wishing we’d paid more attention.

This is something I bring up a lot. I’m not proud of throwing away my past… in my head I was letting go of someone I didn’t recognize; someone who was heavy on the drama and constantly questioning her future. But the thing is, without her, there wouldn’t be me. And if I somehow change even just one persons mind before they do the same thing, I will continue to bring it up.

There’s also this crazy thought in my head. Had I never thrown away my journals… would the Creating Me Legacy Series exist? Or did the gut wrenching feeling push me straight into my current reality? I’m not sure, but it’s kind of fun to think about.

What memories do you think are still waiting in your childhood bedroom, at your grandparent’s house, on the playground or at the dinner table? You might be surprised just how much of your story is still there… just waiting for you to jump back in.

This is exactly what the Remembering Me Journal was designed to do.

Turns out the highlight reel isn’t what shapes us, it’s the scenes that never made the final cut.

See you,
Amy