Writing About Other People & the Reliability of Memory

It's a tricky balance, figuring out what's appropriate to talk about here and what has no right to be online. 

In university, many professors stressed the absolute gravity and seriousness of not writing about anyone unfavourably unless you have their permission. Hell, even writing favourably about someone leaves a question mark because countless people on this planet are private and aren't okay with having anyone know their business.

I respect people's privacy and do my best to honour it. I leave names out and try to be vague... but I am a writer. I gotta be able to write honestly, or what is the point?

My favourite course at university was Creative Nonfiction. A quick Google search pulls up dozens of definitions, so I've chosen one that's to the point:

• Creative nonfiction adds characterizations so that the reader becomes involved and can relate to the subject. Pure nonfiction focuses on facts. 

In a nutshell, nonfiction is a textbook: pure facts. 

Creative nonfiction is a memoir: all facts, but written to be enjoyed on a personal level.

____________________________________________

As much as we'd like it to be, memory is not like a filing cabinet. We don't experience something and then file it away only to bring it out later when we want to think about, talk about, or relive it. Over time, memory decays and becomes distorted. It becomes malleable, like clay or dough.

This creates a real problem with creative nonfiction because, so often, nonfiction writing can go back decades. Adults often write memoirs about the trauma they experienced as a child. I am not saying they didn't experience trauma, are lying, or what they are writing can't be trusted.

What I am saying is that specific details can change in our minds. Maybe events occurred slightly differently than you remember, words were said with a different tone, or perhaps the pain was worse, and your brain has protected you by covering much of the truth. 

Two people can also remember the same event very differently. Who is right? Either of us? Neither of us? There are so many things that shape how we remember something. Were you afraid at the time the memory developed? Were you laughing and experiencing something new and exciting or doing something that caused anxiety, boredom, or tediousness? Were you drunk? High? Were you distracted? Everything shapes memory.

There are conscious, unconscious, short-term, and long-term memories.

To understand memory and how it is formed, scientists study those with Alzheimer's: first, scientists need to figure out why people forget.

Suicide and the Anniversary of Andy's Death

We all have that one thing that never fails to put a smile on our face. It could be a stuffed animal, a letter from your child, something you made that you're proud of, a voicemail from a loved one, and in my case... it's this: My dear friend, Andy, made a video for me weeks before he took his own life.

The second anniversary of his death is coming up in less than one month. Because of this, I am gravitating to his video incessantly. I need to be able to see him moving and dancing because it's too difficult for me to think about him being nothing but ashes in this urn.

Our friendship was deep and built over 20 years. We leaned on one another when going through periods of depression, so he reached out to me a lot in the weeks leading up to his death. But I was not there for him. It makes me sick to think about it now. I was so busy with my own problems that I didn't make time for him. 

When I look at these pictures, I see a happy guy. And he probably was happy when these pictures were taken. But if you are familiar with depression, you know how subtle and sneaky it can be. Depression floats in and out of your life, and by the time you realize you are deep in it, you often need help to climb out—it is too hard to do it alone. 

This is the lesson I am taking from Andy's suicide: If you trust me enough to reach out to me when at your lowest and darkest, it is my duty as a friend and fellow human being to listen, be supportive, and remind you of all the reasons you are needed on this planet. It's so easy to look back and see what I could have done differently, but the reality is that it will never be possible.

I am so sorry, Andy. You deserved better.

The Next 24 Hours

This saying has been around for over half a century, most likely. Earl Nightingale (1921-1989) was an American radio speaker and author, dealing mostly with the subjects of human character development, motivation, and meaningful existence.

I love that you can make a career of pretty much anything. If you can dream it, it can happen. "But what if you aren't born into a rich family?" I agree—being born into a favourable environment has its perks and will set you up much better than someone who's been born into poverty and is a minority. Facts are facts, so I won't sit here and pretend that we can all be masters at what we love with the same amount of energy put into getting there. But I think we are all capable of having any job we want. We may not be at the best company, making the most money, or getting the recognition we want, but I think each of us has the potential to decide our fate. 

It takes work, a lot of work. Work that most people don't have the determination, drive, motivation, willpower, or self-confidence to put in. 

You hear of people who've come from nothing and are suddenly household names, owning multiple vacation homes, partying with the rich and the famous and enjoying every great opportunity that exists on this planet. Check out this list of 11 celebrities who were dirt poor before they became famous. 

Some people are born into privilege. Some people are born beautiful. Some people are in the right place at the right time. But that isn't the case for every successful person, and you would be doing yourself a massive disservice if you trick yourself into believing that. 

Why? Because if that's what you truly believe, then you have no chance of becoming the person you want to become.

Look at someone like Steve Irwin, who died doing what he loved. Yes, he died, but I bet he had a more fulfilling life than most of us simply because he did what made him feel alive.

Documentary filmmakers that get to travel the planet and film fascinating animal docs, human stories, or war stories didn't just land that job by chance. They worked for it.

People like The Rock and Arnold Schwarzenegger were massively competitive and thriving in the world of bodybuilding. They weren't born with that physique. They built it, one day at a time. 

These people live very different lives and have very different careers, but successful people have several things in common that the majority of people lack, and now I'll go over a few of them: 

1. They know when to stay and when to leave: If a job isn't adding to their life in any meaningful way, they aren't afraid to go. The "what if?" of the future doesn't scare them into staying in a situation that makes them miserable.
2. Go above and beyond: When you start a job, you are told what your position entails. Successful people complete these tasks and then ask what else they can do. They continually grow.
3. They aren't afraid to fail because they know that failure often leads to success: Failure happens more than success, so it's best to learn how to embrace the setbacks and use them to do better next time.
4. They create their luck: They don't wait around for something good to happen to them, because "good things don't come to those who wait." They make things happen.
5. Goals are attainable: They set goals that they know they are capable of reaching, with very established guidelines and steps. It's not, "I will lose 100 pounds in six months," it's more like, "I will finish this course in the next three weeks by devoting three hours each day to it."
6. Never stop learning: Successful people love to learn whatever they can, from wherever, whoever, and however they can. They like to be inspired and use that inspiration for their personal growth.
7. The journey is what drives them: When you feel like you are doing something meaningful and purposeful, you will continue to do that thing because it is what drives you.

Don't focus on where you want to be in 1, 5, 10, or 20 years from now. Focus on what you'd like to do in the next 24 hours to better yourself and then do that again the next day, and the next, and never stop thinking about the 24 hours in front of you. Eventually, years will pass, and you will be in a place you never thought possible.

I talk about this shit like I know what I'm talking about, but I don't. It sounds legit to me, in any case. Most of us know what the obvious ways to success are, but we, for whatever reason, don't do those things. Maybe use this as a reminder to do the obvious.

Finally, success means more than doing exceptionally well in your career (but that's a massive factor for many of us). Success also includes relationships, hobbies, kids, sports, talents—it's about life and how to achieve true happiness, rather than chase it and never catch it. 

Behind Closed Doors

Last month my mom was driving me to see my doctor because she didn't trust that I would get out of bed to drive myself. She was probably right. Being suicidal does that to a person.

As we were driving, I started thinking about my marriage and how, during it, I had never experienced depression to this degree. I wanted needed my mom to know that my suicidal thinking had nothing to do with my leaving him.

 

Since leaving my marriage two years ago, my life has been a struggle, and I'll be the first to admit that most of it has been a result of deciding to restart my life without him. I had the security of a husband who had a well-paying job, and we owned a house together. We had mutual friends - today I am friendless. I was a member of his family - I lost that when I left him. 

It would be so easy for someone to connect the dots and think that my suicidality was a direct result of getting divorced. But if someone connected the dots that way, they'd be wrong. So very, completely, frankly, wrong.

This is how the conversation with my mom played out:

Me: I don't know if you or Dad have talked about it or wondered about it, but I want you to know that my depression isn't a result of leaving my marriage. I don't regret it. We weren't right for each other. We got together so young, and it felt like the next step, getting married, was the logical thing to do. But it wasn't. I don't hate him, I don't wish any ill will toward him. I am happy he found someone better for him. I never wanted kids, and now he can have them. But I don't regret leaving.

Mom: Dad and I have never assumed that, talked about that, or thought you made the wrong choice. It is your life, and we know that you are smart enough to do what's right for you.

I cried. I lost it. 

To hear my mom say that she trusted my decision-making and knew that my divorce two years ago had nothing to do with my wanting to kill myself now meant so much to me. 

She then followed with something even kinder, with tears in her eyes:

Mom: Leaving him gave you strength. You are so much stronger today than you were then, and Dad and I see it. You have had a really crappy two years, and we see that, but we also see that you keep picking yourself up. You don't give up, and we are so proud of you.

That conversation has left a lasting impact on me, and I hope to never forget it. 

I wish my ex husband the best, and that's all I have to say about that.

Exhale

All right...

I am going to do a stream of consciousness thing and not edit what I write. That's the best way and the only way that I can describe how I'm feeling these days.

Winter always turns me into a hermit. I like to sleep, hang out by myself, read, have tonnes of baths, drink a lot, and never wear jeans or do my hair. But my mom has done a fabulous job of forcing me to be human and get out of the house. At first, it was annoying. I just wanted to be left alone. But soon I started to enjoy it. And then I got a fish tank, and the same thing happened with my dad. We started hitting up fish stores a few times per week. It was good for both of us. And now... I am closer to my parents than I have ever been to. I enjoy being with them.

I find myself calling my parents now.

"Hey, Mom, let's go to the library!"

"Hey Dad, wanna go to Petsmart?"

My mom and dad are kind, funny, FUN people. My dad has always been particularly stingy with his money. I wouldn't say he's cheap... but he's... okay, well, he's sort of cheap. However, the two of us now share an aquarium hobby and are continually buying each other things for our tanks. It's just so different from the father I knew before, and it's lovely. My mom tells me she loves me and misses me and tells me that seeing me is her priority—what a feeling.

I really haven't seen any friends in quite a while. Hopefully, they don't think I've stopped caring about them, because that's not it at all. It seems this happens every winter. I get into this funk where I don't want to leave the house, and then it becomes hard to break. I go so long without socializing that it's hard to break out of it. When my primary interaction of the day is thanking the cashier at Safeway... I know something is wrong. But it's so hard to dig me out of it!

I'm not the greatest daughter, or the most generous friend, or the most extraordinary person. In fact, I'm pretty mediocre. But aren't we all? Nothing is amazing about any of us, but there is something unique about each of us. Each of us matters to those who love us. Those people would be devastated without us in their lives.

What a thought.

Let it go

It's essential to let go of things that no longer serve you.

If a friendship that was once fun is now work, say goodbye.
If a cause you once cared about no longer makes you feel passionate, find a new one.
If a job makes you feel depressed rather than happy, quit.

At the end of the day, it really is that simple. Forget the responsibility you feel to anyone else because the only responsibility you have is to yourself.

I certainly have a tendency to hold onto things.

Like, because a friendship is old and was once valuable to me, it means I need to keep it in my life. It's called the sunk-cost fallacy:

Reasoning that further investment is warranted on the fact that the resources already invested will be lost otherwise, not taking into consideration the overall losses involved in further investment.

Friendships are—ahem, should be—give and take. Sometimes one person gives more, and sometimes that same person takes more. But if the balance is always skewed, it's not really a friendship worth having, is it? I've recently said sayonara to a few friendships, and it feels good. I now have more energy to put into friendships that are equally beneficial.

On the topic of work: when Sunday comes and you're dreading the work week ahead of you in a way that is all-consuming, it's probably time to find a new job. People have a way of making themselves believe they're "happy enough". You tell yourself, "My job isn't all that bad. The pay is okay, the hours are good, vacation is decent." We find a way to live with situations that don't make us happy by convincing ourselves that it's not that bad. We feel loyalty to companies that feel no loyalty to us. We feel we've worked somewhere for so long that it would be silly to give up the "perks" we have to start somewhere new. But that's bullshit.

These days, I try to only do things that I want to do, and things that will make me happy. And you know what's happened?

I'm now happy... for the most part.

Remembering a friend...

Today was the 11th anniversary of my friend Jimmy's death. He was walking across a marked crosswalk when a drunk driver hit and killed him.

So much has happened in my life since then. I was 17 then, and I'm 28 now. Looking back to eleven years ago, I am an entirely different person. As much as I have grown over the years, if I allow myself to go back to that time, I'm raw and still very much there.

Life has gone on for me while Jimmy is frozen in time. It's a reality, and it's not something worth getting sad about because as much as I wish I could make it different... I can't. So I live my life, and from time to time, I remember Jimmy and smile.

I love cows. They are my favourite animal. Jimmy knew this. One day he called my house phone (cell phones weren't a thing like they are today), and when my dad passed me the phone, Jimmy excitedly said, "Beth! I'm at this garage sale, and I found a cow couch! Do you want it!?"

I said of course... and that evening, Jimmy and his step-dad delivered it to my house.
Three weeks later, Jimmy died.

As physically uncomfortable as that couch was and as cheaply made as it was, I held onto it for years after Jimmy's death, because it was a tangible item from him. It was a physical object that I could remember him by.

Eight years after Jimmy was gone, I told my dad we could finally get rid of the cow couch. We smashed it to pieces, and it broke my heart with every smash, but it was also so therapeutic. I needed to move on. Not forget, but let go. It was simply the destruction of a cow couch, but it was also an oddly beautiful send-off to a really great friend.

NFJS

Therapy made me social again

When I saw my therapist last, we talked about situations that are especially difficult for me to deal with.

The focus of our last session revolved around how I think my friends think I'm stupid, boring, and annoying. I don't know where it comes from. No one's ever said any of these things, yet when I'm with friends, I often feel disconnected, and like they'd rather be talking to anyone but me. My least favourite question to be asked is, "What's new!?"... because quite honestly, the answer is usually "Nothing." But I can't say that, so I have to dig and search and plan beforehand what I'm going to say. Maybe I'll tell you something cute my dogs did, or tell you something exciting about Chris because his life truly is more exciting than mine, but most likely, I'll say, "Not much, you?" Talking about myself makes me really uncomfortable... I prefer to listen.

I had only seen my friends twice in eight months. I was too depressed and anxious to go out when they'd invite me, so Chris would go on his own. And the more I declined invites, the more I felt they didn't like me, so I would decline even more. I didn't trust my friends enough to say, "Hey, guys, I'm going through a really rough time right now." Instead, I ignored their invites or would say I'd go, and then wouldn't. By my actions, they likely felt I thought I was better than them or didn't want to see them, or whatever. Depression and anxiety are so fucking weird.
Last weekend, Chris and I went to the lake with some of our friends. I REALLY did not want to go at first. I had only seen them once since the wedding which was in April, and the idea of spending an entire day, sleeping in a tent, and then spending more time with them the next day... I was terrified. But Chris pleaded. He does so much for me, so I relented and agreed to go, even though I was SURE they all hated me (stupid brain).
So we went, and as soon as we got there I WAS SO HAPPY. I had so much fun. It's astounding to me that the human brain can give you so much negative self-talk and you'll believe every last bit of it.
A huge part of why I went camping was because of my appointment with my therapist. Working with her has made me realize that I need to put myself in situations that make me uncomfortable. Our brains blow things way out of proportion, and half the shit we tell ourselves isn't true anyway.
What I learned is that sometimes you need to tell your worrying brain to SHUT UP. And trust your husband when he tells you that you're going to have an awesome time camping with your friends.
x

I'm loved, I'm cared about, and I will be okay

I met with my doctor today. I've been having a rough go of things lately, and for the first time in a long time, I asked for help. My doctor could see how overwhelmed I was and how out of control I felt, and she left me with a few points that I think are relevant to us all:

• Don't be afraid to say no.
• If you don't ask for something, you won't receive it.
• You need to be at peace with yourself. Tell people when something they're doing isn't making you happy.
• You are worthy. Your opinions matter just as much as anyone else's.

Avoiding unpleasant thoughts, situations, and people is what I have always done. But I've recently realized that I need to change my M.O. 

If you want to make your mind, body, and soul sick, then, by all means, avoid the uncomfortable and bottle everything inside. But if you want to flourish, grow, and be healthy and happy… then you need to be kind to yourself, face the things you wish you could forget, forgive yourself for mistakes made, and get to know (and love) yourself. 

I want to be emotionally available. 

I want to be okay with feeling it all… the good, the bad, and the ugly. 

I want people to know they can come to me, and I will be honest with them about all things. 

I want people to know they can rely on me to be there for them when needed. 

I want to not be ashamed of my past, my feelings, my pain, my emotions. 

I want to feel that it's okay to be human and that it's okay to admit that I need help.  

I want to be okay with making mistakes and learn to be grateful for them because mistakes are good.

I want to believe that it's okay to trust people and that people say what they mean and mean what they say. 

I want to stop second-guessing compliments, words of encouragement, and kindness. 

I want to stop projecting my insecurities onto others—just because I see myself a certain way doesn't mean you see me that way.

I learned today that I shouldn't be afraid to let people in. Today I have been 100% pleasantly surprised, and 0% laughed at, mocked, or ridiculed.

Trust...

There is a reason I don’t give it out freely or easily. While I believe people are generally good, I also believe most people are in it for themselves and will do what they can to get ahead, even if it means throwing you under the bus. This isn’t me complaining or whining about the unfairness of life… this is me being honest about how life is. Sometimes I make a mistake in who I trust, and once I realize I’ve fucked up, you won’t get another chance. And don’t get me wrong, I can be a shitty friend too. This isn’t me saying I’m perfect and other people aren’t. This is me saying humans are flawed, and we are so very rarely altruistic in our actions. You can’t be an amazing presence in everyone’s life, you just can’t be. You save your amazingness for a select few.

To find someone who is there for you no matter what is better than finding the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow… it’s better than sex because it lasts forever, and it’s better than the tightest and deepest hug in the world. It makes you feel okay with yourself because someone sees you for you, all of you, and still accepts you. They hold your secrets close to their heart, and they would never sell you out. It is the most comforting feeling in the world, and part of why trust is so amazing is because it is so damn rare.

I pride myself on being able to very quickly know if I want someone in my life. Within seconds of being around you, I can sense your energy and whether or not you’re someone that attracts me. What I do need to learn are boundaries. I tell too much, too soon, and just because I gravitate towards someone and feel a connection, it doesn’t mean I need to bare my soul. Sometimes it’s okay to just like someone as a pal, and not rely on them for anything more than a light-hearted conversation or a lunch date. It doesn’t always need to be a deep, soul-connecting friendship. And that’s hard for me to accept, because to me if it’s not a deep and profound connection, it’s fluff and superficial. And why waste your time and energy on someone that doesn’t feed your soul? Well, because Beth, sometimes life can’t be everything you want it to be, and you have to be okay with that. You have to be okay with knowing you can’t trust someone, but still, be able to like them.

I will hold you close to my heart if you can teach me something about myself in a gentle way. My favourite people are those who teach me things without even realizing they are doing it. They don’t look down on me or tell me that this is how I should behave or I should stop doing this or that… they guide me through mutual friendship and understanding. True friendship is give and take, and the friendships I value most are the ones that make me yearn for personal growth.

I’ve learned that it’s okay to be fucked over by people because the people who won’t do that bullshit to you are ten times better than the people who will. Focus your energy on the good ones.

Are we all faking it?

The other day Chris and I met with our wedding DJ: when he asked what I do for a living and I told him I’m a technical writer, his response was, “Wow, you’re very smart.” I laughed it off and said I’m not, and then he said in all seriousness, “No, really.” I mumbled “thanks” and changed the subject.

The truth is that I have no idea what I am doing. I do my job and hope to God my coworkers can’t see the fuck ups. I’m a perfectionist but satisfied with very little, professionally or personally. And I don’t think I’m alone in this. I asked my sister a few months ago, “When did you finally figure it out?” and she told me she still hasn’t. She is intelligent, put together, has an MBA, and is incredibly successful, but she still questions herself. I find this comforting. I look at those around me who appear confident and wonder if they feel like frauds too.

There are so few people I feel comfortable going to when I need support. Being vulnerable is scary as hell, because what if the person I’m seeking help from decides I’m not worth the time or energy? What if they are laughing at me behind my back? People are generally good, I truly believe that but it’s difficult to admit you need a shoulder to lean on, or guidance, or someone to pick you up because you aren’t quite strong enough to do it yourself.

I appreciate the compliments even though I may brush them off. I appreciate when other people tell me they’re bullshitting their way through life too. And I appreciate the amazing people in my life who make me feel worthy when I most need it. I hope I'm as good of a friend to you as you are to me.

Never Forget Jimmy Shelstad

I was just thinking about Jimmy, a close friend of mine. 

The summer before grade 12, my friend Jimmy was walking home from a party when a drunk driver hit and killed him. His body landed 40 feet from where he was hit. He died instantly.

I went online on an early Saturday morning. It was July 31, 2004, and a friend messaged me, telling me that "Jimmy died last night." I refused to believe it. I thought it was a cruel, mean-spirited, totally not funny joke. I called Jimmy's house, and when his mom answered the phone, I said, "Hi, is Jimmy there?"

All I could hear for what felt like forever was breathing on the other end of the line, and then she said with the deepest sadness I've ever heard, "Oh, sweetie, he was hit by a car last night."

I paused and then replied: "Is he okay?"

She inhaled deeply, then exhaled, and said, "No. Beth, I'm so sorry... he didn't make it."

That afternoon, my then-boyfriend, two friends, and I drove to Jimmy's house to offer support to his family. Jimmy's mom and dad invited us in. We sat around the kitchen table, in shock. We didn't say much. We shared a few memories and laughs, but mostly we cried. 

I would never hear his voice again. I would never again hear his infectious laugh, hug him, skip school with him, or share our deepest thoughts and secrets. Jimmy was gone, and I couldn't understand why. He would never graduate high school, become an adult, or have a wife and children. Jimmy's mom and dad lost a son, and Jimmy's younger brother was now an only child. It was so unfair. 

In the coming months, I combed through the newspaper each day: I cut out every article about Jimmy, slipped it into a plastic sleeve, and put it in a binder. I would read the articles over and over, pouring over the words and telling myself I would never forget and never let him go.

A week or so after Jimmy died, 100+ people showed up at what came to be known as "Jimmy's Corner", the intersection where he was killed. We hugged, laughed, cried, and when the clock struck the time that he died, each of us lit a candle and walked him the rest of the way home. 

My life has moved on, while Jimmy will only ever be the memory of a 17-year-old boy.