Memory

Earlier, I defined what it means to be human, how we are social beings, how we strive to grow, and how we dream of our futures. Now, I want to talk about the present—what creates our current selves and makes us who we are. This is relatively straightforward: our memories and the people around us shape our identities. As we grow older, we accumulate more memories; we learn, change, and develop.

If you have studied the brain or are simply interested in it, you'll understand the concepts of the subconscious and the conscious mind. Your present self is your conscious mind, while your subconscious operates more like a robot. It is practical and useful, but it only does what it has been programmed to do. It doesn't consider what's best or the most effective way to react to a situation; it simply responds as programmed.

Our memories are deeply tied to our subconscious mind, influencing our thoughts and understanding. Everything can be divided into two sections: the subconscious processes information, recording and deciphering its meaning. The conscious mind is akin to a camera, capturing moments and then sending the information to the subconscious for development and storage. However, the more information we take in, the less memory space we have. Consequently, the brain optimizes storage by "locking" some memories away until something jogs them back to consciousness.

However, perfectly preserving a memory in this locked state is challenging. It's like leaving a painting in a room—the longer it's left untouched, the more faded and less defined it becomes. To restore a painting, you need to add new elements, fix the damage, and apply layers to bring back its original appearance. The subconscious functions similarly; our memories can be altered by our subconscious. Our imagination fills in the gaps or damage that our memories may have suffered. Sometimes, this recollection is accurate, but in other instances, it transforms the memory, often making it an entirely new depiction of the past.

Our memories can turn into vague, untruthful representations of what happened, yet we still treat them as factual information. We cling to memories and moments to avoid losing them, but in the process, we don't realize we're altering them. This is like a child who has damaged their blanket; our memories are replaced with convincing facades.

This process is the work of the conscious mind and is vital to our existence. While it may seem unsettling, it is simply a fact of life, a part of how we process information and live our lives. This was just one example. A strong memory might remain vivid for a long time, or it could be entirely repressed. Traumatic memories, in particular, can be locked away—not merely stored, but completely chained. Our subconscious does this to protect us, but such protection can lead to vulnerability. The longer a memory is suppressed, the more we rely on that suppression, and as the strength of the memory grows, it can create problems in our lives.

Repressed memories burden our subconscious, weakening our minds and leading to mood swings, violence, and other mental health issues. I've witnessed many individuals with repressed memories—some sought help while others grew more distant, eventually slipping into mental instability. They became consumed by their memories, their minds fractured. They found themselves caught in a perpetual loop, stuck in a dreamland that was meant to soothe but only propelled their downfall.

Our subconscious is our greatest tool and our greatest weakness. It makes us who we are, working in tandem with our conscious mind. It develops us and protects us, even if that protection leads us into deeper turmoil. We are composed of both the conscious and the subconscious; they shape our personas, and our existence, and allow us to continue growing until we eventually slip into a deep sleep that signals the end of our existence. My existence differs a small amount, but I need not experience something, merely witness it.