omahdon:

vanerdsa:

bpdmum:

you ever just sit and realise u can’t remember 80% of your childhood? like … what happened? who am i ..?

Many people in the comments are saying “trauma”, but this is actually a very normal occurrence. It’s called Childhood Amnesia, and it’s a process which, as the brain reorganizes itself for cognitive thought that is developed in late childhood, it changes the Accessibility of those memories during recall. Many childhood memories are available to the person, but they will not be remembered during regular recall activity, you have to “trick” your brain into remembering with different tactics.

This is because there are two parts to memories – their encoding and their recall. The encoding determines their availability, their recall determines their accessibility. The reason why trauma memory and childhood amnesia are different is in this distinction. Trauma memory is often encoded differently, bypassing to the limbic system where it is stored as intrinsic memory. It can’t be recalled because it was never encoded. Childhood amnesia, however, seems to indicate that the memories are encoded, but we lose access to them as we age. This is most likely due to the development of brain structures that fundamentally change our encoding and recall of memory as we get older.

This is an important distinction, because trauma memory is “stored in the body”, i.e. you get triggers that send your body into a cascade of uncontrollable feelings, sensations and reactions. Whereas childhood memories won’t generally do that, they are just recalled at odd times with odd associations.

So what you’re saying is that I stored my childhood memories on 3.5″ floppies and that if I tried recalling them now, it’d be like jamming them ineffectually at the USB slots to the computer that is my current means of processing memories. Does that make therapists who help people recall childhood memories those tech support wizards who have a floppy reader somewhere?

celero-needs-therapy:

prolifers-r-gross:

9yearoldsoul:

star-anise:

imnotevilimjustwrittenthatway:

star-anise:

dotdollplushies:

405blazeitt:

i hate the trope of kids giving their favorite stuffed animal to a younger child as a sign of compassion and coming of age, as if this is something that should be expected of kids as they grow up

im 22 and i dont care who you are you’ll have to pry my ikea shark out of my cold dead hands

I can’t remember the name of the study, but there was a theory, supported by pretty good evidence, that if you have your comforter, be it blanket, plush, pacifier, whatever, taken away when you’re not ready to give it up, even if you’re a dinky little kid, it can have really long lasting effects. People who kept their comforters into adulthood were less likely to smoke, drink or do drugs, tended to have better family relations and home lives etc, while those that saw their comforter removed or destroyed were more likely to be drawn to more serious “comforts” elsewhere. The more extreme the removal, the more extreme the result. Typically.

We learn at our own pace to make and break connections and emotional ties, and the situation is forced upon us, we seek comfort. But whoa wait, you can’t possibly have comfort anymore, you’re five. You’re a big kid now.

So when parents are forcing you to “grow up” by tearing the only comfort in the world from you, they could actually be messing you up big time.

In psychology they’re called “transitional objects” and they help the neurobiological process of helping children learn to internalize the experience of being loved and cared for, which is an essential part of learning to regulate your emotions.  They are REALLY important.

I wonder what it means psychologically that I’ve started getting a few more for myself?

Well, there’s a process we call “re-parenting yourself” where you give yourself the love you missed out on in childhood, and thereby start to heal the pain you’ve carried since then.  And using childhood comfort objects can be part of that.

Oh..

Oh my god…

In the year of the lord 2018 our grown asses start healing.