Physical Memory Loss

Maria Peregolise

“…suppressing our recollections can create a “virtual lesion” in the brain that casts an “amnesiac shadow” over the formation of new memories.” (Davis, 2016) ^[1] Nicola Davis, Suppressing traumatic memories can cause amnesia, research suggests, New study could explain why people suffering from PTSD and other psychological disorders can have difficulty forming everyday memories, 2016 https://www.theguardian.com/science/2016/mar/15/suppressing-traumatic-memories-can-cause-amnesia-research-suggests

It’s interesting that they term this ‘virtual wound’ as a ‘shadow,’ since I called mine a ‘Grey Box.’ My ‘Grey Box of Practiced Memory-Loss’ could get out of control — it still can. When I’d realized I could purposely, actively call it up to watch it cover and drag away a thought, it was interesting. It was entertaining.

My Father would tell me God’s secrets and I wasn’t supposed to share them with anyone, so it became advantageous that the Grey Box covered and dragged away a story or incident. At the point of the next continuation of the same conversation, most of the event would float to the surface and bloom open for me to recall.

Suppression of memories can assist significantly in the goal of Lifton’s “Milieu Control,” which is “the control of human communication … ultimately, within the individual…” (Lifton, 1961, 1989) ^[2] Robert J. Lifton, Eight Psychological Themes of a Thought Reform Program, 1961, 1989

Unfortunately, eventually all I needed do was think of the box, and it randomly loomed up to drag away my thoughts, even when I didn’t want it to — even as I begged it to stop.

The research of such phenomena reports, “Hippocampal damage profoundly disrupts the ability to store new memories… Intentionally suppressing memory retrieval (retrieval stopping) reduces hippocampal activity… (and) Cognitively triggered amnesia constitutes an unrecognized forgetting process …” (Hulbert, Henson and Anderson) ^[3] Justin C. Hulbert, Richard N. Henson, and Michael C. Anderson, Inducing Amnesia Through Systemic Suppression

The ‘forgetting process’ of ‘Cognitively Triggered Amnesia’ was something I had practiced quite a bit. The research makes sense to me that such practice leads to the detriment of memory development.

As a teen, I already understood that my Grey Box developed from intentionally suppressing memories. Practice makes perfect. It follows that what you practice the most, is what you’ll become most proficient in doing. “(Memory) suppression, however, required practice. … amnesia increased the more participants practiced suppressing their memories.” (Hulbert, Henson, Anderson, 2016) ^[4] Justin C. Hulbert, Richard N. Henson, and Michael C. Anderson, Inducing Amnesia Through Systemic Suppression, 2016, ^[5] https://www.nature.com/articles/ncomms11003

However, it wasn’t until I researched the phenomenon as an adult, that I’d found it had terminology, a biological explanation which entailed specific causes and a definition. This was when I learned that its frustrating tendency to repress a memory I wanted to hold onto could be attributed to both practice and stress-induced underdevelopment of the hippocampus.

My little vinyl-upholstered chair sat next to the grown-up’s arm chair. I’d occasionally have memories of sitting in my child-sized spring rocker with my arm in a gauze sling on the arm rest. That rocker would squeak when I rocked in it, and normally I’d be thrilled to swing it to its very limits–usually until sending it off its alignment and had to pull it back into place. But, in this particular memory, I was terrified to move it at all, fearful of affecting my hurt arm.

This chair had a button-nose smiley face that hurt when I sat back against it, but I loved it anyway. I could envision Mom placing me into the chair, very careful to settle my bandaged arm on its wide arm rest.

While I noted that my arm was in a sling in this memory, I was always confused about something more bothersome.

How is it that I couldn’t remember why my arm was in a sling?

I was appreciative of Mom’s overtly gentle concern. However, why could I recall the specifics of Mom placing me into the red and white rocker, with my arm in a sling, without being able to remember what had caused me to need the sling to begin with?

At twelve, my right elbow would occasionally click or get ‘stuck’ — usually after a time of stacking wood or pulling nails from two-by-fours.

“You always were hard-headed,” Dad had scoffed, when I asked. “You were so stubborn, you actually pulled your own arm out of the socket.” He had blinked both eyes at me a couple of times with his twinkling, ‘knowing look’, and continued. “We were at the store, and I was holding your hand. You wanted to go to the toy section, and when I said no, and started walking the other way, you pulled so hard, you yanked your own arm out of the socket.”

“Wow.”

Dad clicked his tongue and scolded, “It wasn’t the only time you did that with me, either.”

My brows raised at this.

My Father nodded, “Not an easy kid to control.”

Around the same time as receiving this explanation, I lay on my back in a tangle of unmade bed covers, swinging a broken chain necklace propeller-like. It wrapped my finger as I recited each multiplication fact, trying to keep pace with its metronome rhythm. Joshua drove his Matchbox truck along a rugged terrain of sneakers, laundry, and notebooks on the floor.

“Seven-times-three-is-twenty-one.”

The chain was completely wrapped, and I swung it open in the other direction.

“Seven-times-four-is–“

Picturing the sevens-tables I’d just written five times, the grey box that swallows my memories darkened that answer. However, part of the fours-table was still in my mind’s eye. So, I fell back on a fact I trusted.

Six times four is 24, 25, 26, 27, I count-on to get to, “twenty-eight!”

The chain ended its spiral sooner than I was able to answer. I spun it the other way, starting again.

“Seven-times-three-is-twenty-one.”

I stared at the ceiling through the blur of the spinning chain, trying to develop a trustworthy picture of the numbers.

“Seven-times-four-is-twenty-eight.”

Before bedtime, My Father tested me, “Three times eight.”

I don’t know three times eight. Is that 24? Two times eight is sixteen– I count-on, chunking the number eight into two groups of four– 17, 18, 19, 20! 21, 22…

Slap. Dad back-handed my upper arm.

Not quick enough.

“Seven times four.”

Starting with the fact I trusted, I count-on from there.

Seven times three is twenty-one, 22, 23, 24! 25, 26 —

Slap.

“Seven times three.”

“Twenty-one!”

“Seven times four.”

Seven times three is twenty-one, 22, 23, 24! 25, 26 —

Slap.

A Neuroscience article on ‘Lost Memories’ reveals that, “Stress is a biologically significant factor that, by altering brain cell properties, can disturb cognitive processes such as learning and memory, and consequently limit the quality of human life. Extensive … research has shown that the hippocampus is not only crucially involved in memory formation, but is also highly sensitive to stress.” (Kim, Diamond, 2002) ^[6] Nature Reviews Neuroscience, 2002, ^[7] https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pubmed/12042880