#memory therapy

Inevitably people in my life ask me why I'd she gave me a chance, why would I take another chance on Sue. They point out all the times she's hurt me, and why would I bother...

So here goes.

When my dad Larry died, I hadn't spoken to him in just over three years, had completely cut him out of my life. I did it for many reasons, some things that happened while I was an adult, and many from my childhood. I honestly didn't think I would care if he died, then he did, and I cared. I had a lot of guilt and pain...for a long time. Took over a year, before I was able to not feel guilty all the time. And part of what got me through it was what I call Memory Therapy.

At first, when I would be feeling guilty about how things ended with my Dad, I think back to horrible things he had done, to make it easier on me that I had cut him out of my life. But that wasn't working because, my head was filled with bad memories of him, and I didn't want that. I wanted to be able to have fond memories of him. He was my father after all.

So I started this... experiment. Whenever I would think of my dad and have a bad memory, I would reach down, find a good memory and use it to push the bad away. It took a lot of practice and trying, but now after years of doing it, it kind of comes naturally. So this is an example of how to do it.

The last day of my 8th grade year, he beat my ass. A good ten minute beating. Not a spanking, a beating, first with open hands, but didn't take long and he was using his fists. My back, my shoulders, my arms, my head, the side of my face. Beat the shit out of me, then just left for work like nothing happened. He was pissed because I had screwed off the entire fourth quarter and managed to flunk every class except one. After the beating I was grounded to my room, for the whole summer. I was so terrified of him that I pissed in empty milk jugs when he was home so I wouldn't have to leave my room. That was my summer, a summer of absolute terror.

When that memory comes into my head now, I dig down and push it aside, replace it, with a fond one. Like this one.

One summer we took a family trip up to Steven's Point to visit his friend Jim. We spent the weekend up there fun times. Jim's son Jason raced BMX and we spent all day Saturday watching the races. On the way back to Jim's, we stopped at K-mart, remember those? Anyway we walked through the store back to the bikes. And Dad, he put his hand in my shoulder, and told me to pick one, any one I wanted. After the shock wore off and I looked over the bikes, I picked one. An awesome yellow and blue BMX bike, tube forks, goose neck, pads, the whole thing. I loved it. Once we got home to Mayville, I took it for a ride. The older boys in the neighborhood saw it, and they all wanted to take turns riding it. They all said it was awesome, it was rad, it was bitchin. I was so proud because it was mine, and so overjoyed that I had it. That is actually one of my happiest memories of my Dad.

So when something terrible he did pops into my head, I replace it, with that memory, or a similar one. And the happy memory causes the bad one to fade. I still have the bad memories, don't get me wrong, they are still there. But the good memories, forcing them to the forefront, take the power from the bad memories and I prefer that. Because despite our differences, I love my dad, and I want to remember as much good as I can because of that.

It's gotten that I used this so much that now it comes almost naturally. So now it just doesn't happen with memories of my Dad, but other memories as well. Like, yes, with Sue. When my mind pulls up one of the times she hurt me, I almost instinctually bring up a happy memory, and there are so many to choose from. And suddenly the bad memory just fades.