![]() ![]() I have been working through different ways of recalling what was important to my younger self, the child of the early 70’s and those pre-teen years after which rites of passage seem to come along on an annual basis. We write from experience not just those life changing events that are etched forever in our minds or birthdays and anniversaries that are simply a mark of being one year older, but the minutiae of everyday life and how we lived it. However, as I write more – and more often – these gaps in my memory are frustrating. Very few psychologists would encourage us to dwell on the past, repeat old mistakes or hanker for the simplicity of childhood when we need to take responsibility for ourselves as adults. We are encouraged to live each day ‘in the moment’ or embrace the future and whatever it holds for us. ![]() This may not seem important on the face of it. From the age of 13 I kept a diary – a small red notebook filled with rapid scribbles – so I have a clearer picture of how my time was spent, but as the most exciting thing that happened to me each week seems to have been the trip to the launderette with my dad I still don’t feel I know the younger me very well. ![]() It is truly another life and I am disturbed that I can remember so little of it. That seems a bizarre statement but I do sometimes actually need to remind myself that those photos my mum keeps in a purple box beside her bed are of me. ![]()
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