I went through an extended period of overwhelming stress, and frankly, clinical depression, in the 90's. It was a time of great, almost uninmaginable loss. And in the process, I lost a lot of the memories that I had previously treasured.
Sobbing on my therapist's couch, I mourned that there were so many moments of my past that I couldn't force my mind to retrieve. Likening my situation to post traumatic stress disorder, she assured me that these memories would return. I can't tell you how much I wanted them. I needed them to remind myself how truly I had been blessed.
Many have now returned. Many have not. In quiet moments of reflection, I often dig and scratch at the journal of my mind, trying to remember the joys of life, pre-1992. I rarely succeed.
Those I do recall, I consider souvenirs. And I give words to them, so they'll never be lost again.
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