This post is sort of a spin off from the post I made last August (I think) entitled Truth. I made the comment that when we write about our personal history, we are telling it from our perspective; but someone who was also present might record it differently. This is rather complex, since it would be all too easy to either dismiss or invalidate the memory as a non-truth on the basis that someone else might express a more factual or more accurate account of what “really” happened. For the purpose of accurately telling my life story, it can only be told and understood from my sense/perspective of really happened. When I learn of a different perspective I will include that in my telling; but it will be offered as an added perspective, not a replacement of what I experienced. When my experiences have been validated/confirmed through the telling of someone else’s perspective on what I experienced, I might include that as well, depending on the circumstances involved.
If the point of recording/recalling a memory were to identify, condemn, or criticize the perpetrator, it would be very important to have a completely unbiased, factual account of what happened. But that isn’t the goal of this blog. On the other hand, that doesn’t give free license to record/report something that is knowingly false on the basis that the only thing that matters is what it felt like or seemed like to me, either. We endeavor to record/report what really happened and add how it impacted us if that is something different from what really happened. However, we acknowledge the fact that two people viewing the same thing occur will not give identical accounts of the occurrence. It is human nature to interpret a situation from our own viewpoint – we focus in on what matters or makes sense to us. Additionally, some part of the occurrence might have not been visible to everyone present, and that can affect the way they interpret what happened. You may discover in the reading of our story as told by different personalities, that these things are even true when different personalities are telling their personal recollections of what happened to us.
With all that in mind, we truly endeavor to write what really happened, being as accurate in our account as possible. Part of that recording might include how something impacted us due to our limited ability to understand or interpret the event; and the on-going impact that true impression had on us or our family.
To make this more clear, I will offer an example I often choose to explain how something that is untrue can have the same impact as if it were true.
The event occurred when I was an infant. The memory of it first came to me when I was about 7 years old (as confirmed by my father). I had just had a terrifying nightmare (something that occurred frequently at that age) and my father asked me to tell him about it. {It involved my parents moving away and forgetting that I was at school, they left without me. I got off the bus to discover an empty house.} My father exclaimed emphatically that they would never leave without me, and I replied, “but you did once.” He proceeded to tell me of a time when I was about 5 months old when my parents had to take my brother to another state for major surgery and rehabilitation. Thinking that I would be too young to understand, they never told me anything about it. I went to sleep in my own crib and woke up in a different house with my family gone. I believed they had abandoned me, and I gave my caregivers a lot of grief. They didn’t notify my parents of my distress until my parents returned because they felt Mom and Dad had enough to worry about (that is what they told my parents, anyway). When I was a few years older the memory of that event came very clear to me. I remembered the shape of the woman’s glasses, her hair style, and everything about her. I remembered what the man looked like and where he sat in the kitchen. I knew where the kitchen furnishings were located and the pattern of wallpaper in the kitchen. My view was from a high chair, and the woman was trying to pry a spoon with baby food in it into my tightly clinched shut mouth. The whole time she was talking in a very sweet, baby voice saying, “come on, sweetie. You have to eat. If you don’t eat you won’t live.” and the thought I had clearly in my mind was, “I don’t want to eat. I don’t want to live. They left me.” With all the physical features being confirmed accurate, I have to assume the memory of my response was also accurate. I have many more memories of my time under this couple’s care that have surfaced in more recent years.
You can ask the question, “Did my parents abandon me?” with a factual, “No. Their plan all along was to return for me and they followed through with their plan. They did not abandon me.” However, those facts were not available to me to interpret the situation the factual way. I felt abandoned. I believed myself to be abandoned. Therefore my life experiences were affected through the perspective of having been abandoned at age 5 months. This was compounded when my parents left us in this couple’s care a second time at age 11 months. From my adult, detached perspective, it seems likely that the behavior of the couple during my second stay with them can best be understood as them being determined to break my stubborn will. I don’t have any way of knowing what their real motivation for doing what they did was; but it is clear that they saw my behavior of refusing to eat and crying incessantly as something they needed to take a stand against. It would be dishonest to state that I was abandoned by my parents; but my thinking and behavior from that point on were affected the same way a baby who was abandoned would be. My sense of identity, security, and self-worth were severely undermined and impaired in exactly the same way an abandoned baby’s would be. So the whole sum of the facts would have to include my sense of abandonment. Hopefully that adds clarity to what I was trying to say in the beginning of this blog.
