tag:theconversation.com,2011:/id/topics/autobiographical-memory-8025/articlesAutobiographical memory – The Conversation2021-01-18T19:02:37Ztag:theconversation.com,2011:article/1498232021-01-18T19:02:37Z2021-01-18T19:02:37ZTo learn at home, kids need more than just teaching materials. Their brain must also adapt to the context<figure><img src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/379162/original/file-20210118-23-1akratj.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=496&fit=clip" /><figcaption><span class="caption">
</span> <span class="attribution"><a class="source" href="https://www.shutterstock.com/image-photo/school-boy-sitting-home-classroom-lying-1465198202">Shutterstock</a></span></figcaption></figure><p>Research <a href="https://www.education.vic.gov.au/Documents/about/department/covid-19/experience-of-remote-and-flexible-learning-report.pdf">during the first phase of remote teaching</a> in Victoria reported some students found the workload “too high”, missed interactions with peers, felt their thinking ability was impaired, and reported a difficulty coping with study and life more generally. </p>
<p>All these factors impact on students’ sense of well-being. While learning remotely, <a href="https://www.theage.com.au/national/victoria/everyone-s-struggling-lockdown-drives-spike-in-mental-health-treatment-for-children-20200917-p55wjq.html">some children</a> experienced heightened anxiety, stress and other emotional reactions such as depression. </p>
<p>These reactions are not always a response to the teaching itself. Generally, schools and teachers took care to prepare relevant, appropriate learning and teaching materials. Issues like a lack of focus and heightened anxiety could also be the result of a difficulty learning in an alternative setting. </p>
<p>These issues are consistent with students lacking the autobiographical episodic memory needed to guide successful learning in the remote context. Their autobiographic memory, which contains the association that school is a place of learning, may not apply to the home. However, we can train it to. </p>
<h2>What is autobiographical memory?</h2>
<p>Our <a href="https://onlinelibrary.wiley.com/doi/abs/10.1002/0471264385.wei0417">autobiographical episodic memory</a> is the brain’s record of our experiences. It includes what we’ve done, the contexts in which we did it and how we did it. It also contains the feelings we link with events and how motivated we were.</p>
<p>We use this memory continually in our lives. It tells us what to expect when we go into a new bar or coffee shop for the first time, how to cope when an appliance at home breaks down and how to organise ourselves in a social interaction.</p>
<p>Students who have attended school have an autobiographical episodic memory of what happens in a classroom. Their experiences include interacting with peers, responding to directions from their teachers about how to direct their learning activity, following routines and schedules such as doing particular activities at specific times, and behaving in particular ways. </p>
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<p>The experiences also include a range of signals, supports and interactions such as the body language, eye contact, and speaking tones used by teachers and peers — as well as the overall classroom atmosphere.</p>
<p>These experiences are stored in students’ autobiographical episodic memory. They are recalled whenever the student is in the classroom context and direct and focus the learning activity. They operate in addition to, and in parallel with, the the actual teaching and the content.</p>
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<a href="https://images.theconversation.com/files/379163/original/file-20210118-15-6qga9s.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=1000&fit=clip"><img alt="A girl inserting memory chip into her brain." src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/379163/original/file-20210118-15-6qga9s.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/379163/original/file-20210118-15-6qga9s.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=400&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/379163/original/file-20210118-15-6qga9s.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=400&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/379163/original/file-20210118-15-6qga9s.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=400&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/379163/original/file-20210118-15-6qga9s.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=503&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/379163/original/file-20210118-15-6qga9s.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=503&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/379163/original/file-20210118-15-6qga9s.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=503&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px"></a>
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<span class="caption">Autobiographical memory is our record of experiences.</span>
<span class="attribution"><a class="source" href="https://www.shutterstock.com/image-photo/kid-inserting-memory-card-her-head-1447151975">Shutterstock</a></span>
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<p>Students also have stored, in their episodic memory, their experiences at home. This is their record of how they live with their family, what to do and how to behave acceptably at home, how to be organised in the home, how to get around obstacles and solve problems in the home situation and also what to expect. </p>
<p>During the period of remote learning, students, for the large part, had teaching materials prepared for them. But many still needed the systems and supports provided in the classroom context. These students knew what was missing but were likely unable to compensate for it by spontaneously adapting their episodic memory to match the changed context. </p>
<p>Other students found remote teaching a valuable experience. It’s possible these students had more adaptable episodic memories at home. They likely valued being able to self-organise and manage their learning schedules. They may have enjoyed having the opportunity to plan their day and work at their own pace. </p>
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Read more:
<a href="https://theconversation.com/studying-for-exams-heres-how-to-make-your-memory-work-for-you-124586">Studying for exams? Here's how to make your memory work for you</a>
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<p>We don’t know for sure the differences between the learning profiles of those who were and weren’t able to adapt to the changed context; but we can assume episodic memory could play a part in the different experiences students had.</p>
<h2>So, why does this matter?</h2>
<p>Teachers and schools have put a lot of work into designing teaching and learning materials students could use in their homes. Students’ reports suggest these materials weren’t adequate for all students to adapt their classroom experiences to fit the home environment.</p>
<p>As a result, many students would not have formed positive or successful episodic memories of learning at home.</p>
<p>The current phase of remote teaching has come to an end for Australia. However, we may see more students studying from home periodically, as schools shut due to outbreaks in the future. Or it <a href="https://www.abc.net.au/news/2020-10-25/coronavirus-preparing-for-the-third-wave/12802070">could be necessary</a> in Australia in the event of a third wave.</p>
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<span class="caption">More students could be learning from home if outbreaks occur.</span>
<span class="attribution"><a class="source" href="https://www.shutterstock.com/image-photo/concept-homeschooling-elearning-young-girl-busy-1718669179">Shutterstock</a></span>
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<p>Remote teaching could help students build the episodic memory they need for remote learning. Teachers can do this by helping students recognise the learning supports in the classroom and form matching ones in the home. It is also useful to put in place the conditions for successful learning experiences at home. </p>
<p>Here are some ways they could do this:</p>
<p>Teachers can guide students to recognise what helps them learn in the classroom. They can do this by</p>
<ul>
<li><p>becoming aware of supports such as having regular designated times for doing particular activities</p></li>
<li><p>having a learning task broken into smaller steps</p></li>
<li><p>avoiding distractors or working on a task to completion. </p></li>
</ul>
<p>They can then ask the students to suggest how they could have matching supports in their home context. For example, they can encourage students to</p>
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<li><p>prepare a study schedule</p></li>
<li><p>break a task into small steps and work on each</p></li>
<li><p>identify possible distractors at home and suggest how they can manage them. </p></li>
</ul>
<p>When starting a task remotely, teachers can ask students to recall how they did similar activities in the classroom. Students can learn to ask themselves: How did I do similar tasks in the past? What will the outcome look like? What will I do first and then second and last? This could help students transfer their classroom experiences to their home.</p>
<p>Students often have more successful home learning experiences <a href="https://www.improvewithmetacognition.com/pandemic-metacognition">when they have been taught to monitor their progress</a> as they work through a task. These experiences add to their episodic memory. Teachers can encourage them to say what they know now that they didn’t know earlier. </p>
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Read more:
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<p>Experiences that record what happened in a certain place and time are <a href="https://www.sciencedaily.com/releases/2018/07/180731104224.htm">stored in images</a>. When given a learning task during remote teaching, students can also be encouraged to visualise how they will complete it. </p>
<p>For example, if they need to write a paragraph about a character in a novel, the teacher can ask students to visualise the character in particular contexts, recall words that describe the character’s attributes, compose sentences about them and organise their understanding around main ideas. This gives students a “virtual experience” of the learning activity that includes a pathway to task completion. </p>
<p>Many students will, from now on, need to have the ability to learn remotely. This is even true independent of COVID, and applies to studying for exams at home or doing homework. Teachers and parents should be sensitive to the fact autobiographic episodic memory has a role to play in successful learning.</p><img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/149823/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
<p class="fine-print"><em><span>John Munro does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.</span></em></p>Issues like a lack of focus and heightened anxiety when learning at home could be due to students lacking the autobiographical memory they need to learn in an alternative context.John Munro, Professor, Faculty of Education and Arts, Australian Catholic UniversityLicensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.tag:theconversation.com,2011:article/1500612020-12-29T20:42:05Z2020-12-29T20:42:05ZAh, memories of 2020. Why it’s important to remember our COVID holidays, good or bad<figure><img src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/371681/original/file-20201127-13-5lb1kc.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&rect=0%2C4%2C1000%2C661&q=45&auto=format&w=496&fit=clip" /><figcaption><span class="caption">
</span> <span class="attribution"><a class="source" href="https://www.shutterstock.com/image-photo/mosaic-pictures-image-different-places-landscapes-162131621">Shutterstock</a></span></figcaption></figure><p>In Charles Dickens’ famous 1843 ghost story, <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org/files/46/46-h/46-h.htm">A Christmas Carol</a>, Ebenezer Scrooge is visited by the Ghosts of Christmas Past, Christmas Present and Christmas Yet to Come.</p>
<p>However, we do not need supernatural powers or a ghostly escort to travel in time to holidays past, present and future, at least not in our minds. </p>
<p>The ability to remember our past and imagine our future relies on the uniquely human gifts psychologists call <a href="https://researchers.mq.edu.au/en/publications/phenomenology-in-autobiographical-thinking-underlying-features-of">retrospective</a> and <a href="https://researchers.mq.edu.au/en/publications/phenomenology-in-autobiographical-thinking-underlying-features-of">prospective memory</a>.</p>
<p>What memories are we thinking of as we head towards a holiday season unlike any we’ve had before? What memories will we think back on when our break is over? Will we recall our COVID Christmas fondly or will we hope to put 2020 behind us?</p>
<h2>What use is memory anyway?</h2>
<p>Memory serves many important <a href="https://www.frontiersin.org/articles/10.3389/fpsyg.2018.00219/full">psychological and social functions</a>. It helps us navigate everyday situations, such as remembering gifts we need to buy or where we’ve parked our car in a crowded shopping centre. It helps define who we are as people, our values, rituals and beliefs. It allows us to learn from the past, then predict and navigate the future. Finally, it helps shape and deepen personal and social bonds with friends, families and communities.</p>
<p>For many people, holidays are a time when we do our favourite things — holiday rituals, family traditions, longed-for getaways — the kinds of things we’ve always done at this time of year. </p>
<p>We organise our life stories — our autobiographical memories — according to reliable patterns of life events or “life scripts”. But this year, we can’t do some things in the same way. We can’t travel to all the places we usually would; family and friends might not be able to visit; and important events may be postponed or restricted.</p>
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Read more:
<a href="https://theconversation.com/why-we-remember-our-youth-as-one-big-hedonistic-party-78995">Why we remember our youth as one big hedonistic party</a>
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<p>The good news is any new rituals, traditions or holiday experiences we adopt this year may be especially memorable and meaningful. That’s because we’re <a href="https://www.nature.com/articles/nrn1052">particularly likely</a> to remember novel, rather than routine, events. </p>
<p>For instance, in ten years’ time, we may be more likely to remember the holiday season when we shared embarrassing family stories via Zoom than ten years of “normal” Christmases before or after.</p>
<h2>Memory builds resilience</h2>
<p>Of course, these holidays will still have their challenges. We might be inclined to forget 2020 and our summer break entirely. But there is value even in memories of stressful events.</p>
<p>In a <a href="https://www.tandfonline.com/doi/full/10.1080/10615806.2020.1768375">trial</a> published earlier this year, Macquarie University psychologist Monique Crane and her colleagues asked people over 50 to reflect on stressful or challenging events during a busy Australian Christmas period in 2018.</p>
<p>In this type of reflection, known as guided self-reflection, the researchers asked study participants to recall stressful experiences and then analyse what happened and how they behaved. People in the study were also asked to consider how they would tackle a similar situation in the future.</p>
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<a href="https://images.theconversation.com/files/373728/original/file-20201208-23-1ho1pq4.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=1000&fit=clip"><img alt="Woman screaming wearing Santa hat" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/373728/original/file-20201208-23-1ho1pq4.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/373728/original/file-20201208-23-1ho1pq4.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=446&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/373728/original/file-20201208-23-1ho1pq4.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=446&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/373728/original/file-20201208-23-1ho1pq4.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=446&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/373728/original/file-20201208-23-1ho1pq4.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=561&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/373728/original/file-20201208-23-1ho1pq4.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=561&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/373728/original/file-20201208-23-1ho1pq4.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=561&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px"></a>
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<span class="caption">Christmas can be stressful. But remembering and reflecting on these experiences can actually help us in the future.</span>
<span class="attribution"><a class="source" href="https://www.shutterstock.com/image-photo/closeup-portrait-worried-stressed-overwhelmed-young-516789388">Shutterstock</a></span>
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<p>The researchers found self-reflection led people to rate themselves more resilient (agreeing with questions like “I tend to bounce back quickly after hard times”), and feeling less stressed and more positive during the previous two weeks. This is compared to people in a control group, who talked about resilience but did not recall and reflect on their own experiences. </p>
<p>In other words, stressful events during Christmas became an opportunity for positive growth when people reflected on memories of their experiences and used them as building blocks for more resilient responding in the future.</p>
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Read more:
<a href="https://theconversation.com/ten-tips-to-make-your-holidays-less-fraught-and-more-festive-88866">Ten tips to make your holidays less fraught and more festive</a>
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<h2>Benefits of remembering together</h2>
<p>Whether good or bad events, the very act of recalling memories delivers other important benefits when we remember together. Across a series of studies, my colleagues and I show talking with family and friends about life events supports or “<a href="https://journals.sagepub.com/doi/10.1177/1046496417712439">scaffolds</a>” individual memories.</p>
<p>In a <a href="https://www.sciencedirect.com/science/article/pii/S2211368119301603?via%3Dihub">study</a> published earlier this year, we arranged for families of mothers, fathers and their two primary school-aged children to complete a Halloween-themed obstacle course in a park. </p>
<p>A few weeks later we asked them to reminisce about this event in mother-child, father-child and sibling-sibling pairs. Although mothers and fathers were most successful in helping their children to remember, even our littlest participants asked questions and offered their own memories in ways that encouraged and supported their memory partner’s recall.</p>
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Read more:
<a href="https://theconversation.com/the-power-of-our-song-the-musical-glue-that-binds-friends-and-lovers-across-the-ages-73593">The power of 'our song', the musical glue that binds friends and lovers across the ages</a>
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<p>Remembering together is just as valuable, perhaps more so, as we age and if our memories start to fade. In a <a href="https://www.tandfonline.com/doi/full/10.1080/09658211.2019.1673428">second study</a>, we asked long-married couples — people married on average for 50 years — to recall their wedding day. We first asked husbands and wives to remember separately. A week later, we asked them to remember together. Couples recalled many new details when they remembered collaboratively compared to alone.</p>
<p>Remembering together strengthens personal and social connections. In a year that has challenged these connections and isolated many of us, telling stories and sharing memories with our loved ones — even of these difficult and unusual times — may support and protect both our psychological and cognitive health.</p><img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/150061/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
<p class="fine-print"><em><span>Amanda Barnier has received funding in the past from the Australian Research Council, Alzheimer's Australia Dementia Research Foundation and Macquarie University.</span></em></p>Memories of past holidays shape this one and ones years in the future.Amanda Barnier, Pro Vice-Chancellor (Research Performance) and Professor of Cognitive Science, Macquarie UniversityLicensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.tag:theconversation.com,2011:article/1216302019-08-19T02:33:43Z2019-08-19T02:33:43ZWhy do I dwell on the past?<figure><img src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/288256/original/file-20190816-136199-f4yqb7.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&rect=1%2C4%2C997%2C661&q=45&auto=format&w=496&fit=clip" /><figcaption><span class="caption">Dwelling on the past, like writing in a diary, is part of being human and helps us form our identity. But not all memories are helpful.</span> <span class="attribution"><a class="source" href="https://www.shutterstock.com/image-photo/close-partial-portrait-black-female-author-1114940525?src=OFH0ZRmTHf5zgubAeBta-Q-1-11">from www.shutterstock.com</a></span></figcaption></figure><p>Many of us enjoy writing in a diary, reading autobiographies or nostalgically reflecting with others about past times. </p>
<p>Why is remembering our past so important? Are there downsides? And what can we do if dwelling on the past bothers us?</p>
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Read more:
<a href="https://theconversation.com/explainer-what-is-memory-9035">Explainer: what is memory?</a>
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<h2>Memories make us human</h2>
<p>Over several decades, researchers have shown remembering your past is fundamental to being human, and has <a href="http://citeseerx.ist.psu.edu/viewdoc/download?doi=10.1.1.545.5603&rep=rep1&type=pdf">four important roles</a>.</p>
<p><strong>1. Memories help form our identity</strong></p>
<p>Our personal memories give us a sense of continuity — the same person (or sense of self) moving through time. They provide important details of who we are and who we would like to be.</p>
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Read more:
<a href="https://theconversation.com/why-we-remember-our-youth-as-one-big-hedonistic-party-78995">Why we remember our youth as one big hedonistic party</a>
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<p><strong>2. Memories help us solve problems</strong></p>
<p>Memories offer us potential solutions to current problems and help guide and direct us when solving them.</p>
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Read more:
<a href="https://theconversation.com/most-people-think-playing-chess-makes-you-smarter-but-the-evidence-isnt-clear-on-that-119469">Most people think playing chess makes you 'smarter', but the evidence isn't clear on that</a>
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<p><strong>3. Memories make us social</strong></p>
<p>Personal memories are essential for social interactions. Being able to recall personal memories provides important material when making new friends, forming relationships and maintaining ones we already have.</p>
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Read more:
<a href="https://theconversation.com/the-power-of-our-song-the-musical-glue-that-binds-friends-and-lovers-across-the-ages-73593">The power of 'our song', the musical glue that binds friends and lovers across the ages</a>
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<p><strong>4. Memories help us regulate our emotions</strong></p>
<p>Our memories provide examples of similar situations we’ve been in before. This allows us to reflect on how we managed that emotion before and what we can learn from that experience.</p>
<p>Such memories can also help us manage strong negative emotions. For example, when someone is feeling sad they can take time to dwell on a positive memory <a href="http://citeseerx.ist.psu.edu/viewdoc/download?doi=10.1.1.545.5603&rep=rep1&type=pdf">to improve their mood</a>.</p>
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Read more:
<a href="https://theconversation.com/health-check-how-food-affects-mood-and-mood-affects-food-24834">Health Check: how food affects mood and mood affects food</a>
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</p>
<hr>
<h2>Memories help us function in our wider society</h2>
<p>Dwelling on our personal memories not only helps us as individuals. It also allows us to operate in our socio-cultural context; society and culture influence the way we remember our past. </p>
<p>For instance, in Western individualistic cultures people tend to recall memories that are long, specific, detailed and focus on the individual. </p>
<p>In contrast, in East Asian cultures people tend to recall more general memories focusing on social interactions and significant others. Researchers have seen these differences in <a href="https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pubmed/15335332">children and adults</a>.</p>
<hr>
<p>
<em>
<strong>
Read more:
<a href="https://theconversation.com/remember-when-we-why-sharing-memories-is-soul-food-35542">'Remember when we...?' Why sharing memories is soul food</a>
</strong>
</em>
</p>
<hr>
<p>Indeed, the way parents discuss past events with their children <a href="https://journals.sagepub.com/doi/abs/10.1177/1745691610375555">differs culturally</a>.</p>
<p>Parents from Western cultures focus more on the child and the child’s thoughts and emotions than East Asian parents. So, there are even cultural differences in the ways we teach our children to dwell on the past. </p>
<p>People from Western individualistic cultures tend to recollect specific unique memories that reaffirm someone’s uniqueness, a value emphasised in Western cultures. <a href="https://www.researchgate.net/publication/247780766_Why_We_Remember_and_What_We_Remember">In contrast</a>, in East Asian cultures memories function to assist with relatedness and social connection, a value emphasised in East Asian cultures.</p>
<h2>Memories and ill health</h2>
<p>As dwelling on the past plays such a crucial role in how we function as humans, it is unsurprising that disruptions in how we remember arise in several psychological disorders.</p>
<p>People with depression, for instance, tend to remember <a href="https://onlinelibrary.wiley.com/doi/abs/10.1111/bjc.12181">more negative personal memories</a> and fewer positive personal memories than those without depression. For example, someone with depression may remember failing an exam rather than remembering their academic successes. </p>
<figure class="align-center zoomable">
<a href="https://images.theconversation.com/files/288254/original/file-20190816-136199-rbg65b.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=1000&fit=clip"><img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/288254/original/file-20190816-136199-rbg65b.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/288254/original/file-20190816-136199-rbg65b.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=400&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/288254/original/file-20190816-136199-rbg65b.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=400&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/288254/original/file-20190816-136199-rbg65b.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=400&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/288254/original/file-20190816-136199-rbg65b.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=503&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/288254/original/file-20190816-136199-rbg65b.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=503&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/288254/original/file-20190816-136199-rbg65b.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=503&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px"></a>
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">People with depression are more likely to remember the bad times rather than the good.</span>
<span class="attribution"><a class="source" href="https://www.shutterstock.com/image-photo/portrait-stressed-young-housewife-modern-kitchen-142814569?src=tUbO2N-XiJnb4Ya3ZI9UoQ-1-1">from www.shutterstock.com</a></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>People with depression also <a href="https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC2834574/">have great difficulty</a> remembering something from a specific time and place, for instance “I really enjoyed going to Sam’s party last Thursday”. Instead they provide memories of general experiences, for instance, “I like going to parties”.</p>
<p>We have found people with depression also tend to structure their life story <a href="https://onlinelibrary.wiley.com/doi/abs/10.1111/bjc.12181">differently</a> and report more negative life stories. They also tend to remember periods of their life, such as going to university, as either distinctly positive or negative (rather than a combination of both).</p>
<p>Disturbances in memory are also <a href="https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pubmed/21219190">the hallmarks of</a> post-traumatic stress disorder. This is when unwanted, distressing personal memories of the trauma spontaneously pop into the mind.</p>
<hr>
<p>
<em>
<strong>
Read more:
<a href="https://theconversation.com/explainer-what-is-post-traumatic-stress-disorder-11135">Explainer: what is post-traumatic stress disorder?</a>
</strong>
</em>
</p>
<hr>
<p>People with anxiety disorders also tend to have <a href="https://www.sciencedirect.com/science/article/pii/S0272735809001846">biases</a> when remembering their personal past. For instance, all of us, unfortunately, experience social blunders from time to time, such as tripping getting onto a bus or spilling a drink at a party. However, people with social anxiety are more likely to be <a href="https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC3260374/">consumed with feelings of embarrassment and shame</a> when remembering these experiences.</p>
<hr>
<p>
<em>
<strong>
Read more:
<a href="https://theconversation.com/explainer-what-is-social-anxiety-disorder-36601">Explainer: what is social anxiety disorder?</a>
</strong>
</em>
</p>
<hr>
<p>Finally, an excessive, repetitive dwelling on your past, without generating solutions, can be unhelpful. It can result in emotional distress and in extreme instances, emotional disorders, such as <a href="https://psycnet.apa.org/record/2000-05424-015?doi=1">depression, anxiety</a> and <a href="https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pubmed/17041914">post-traumatic stress disorder</a>.</p>
<h2>I don’t want to dwell on the past. What can I do?</h2>
<p>If dwelling on the past bothers you, these practical tips can help.</p>
<p><strong>Set aside a certain time of the day for your memories.</strong> You could write in a diary or write down your worries. <a href="https://onlinelibrary.wiley.com/doi/abs/10.1002/(SICI)1097-4679(199910)55:10%3C1243::AID-JCLP6%3E3.0.CO;2-N">Writing</a> about important personal experiences in an emotional way for as little as 15 minutes a day can improve your mental and physical health.</p>
<p><strong>Practice remembering specific positive memories from your past.</strong> This can allow you to <a href="https://www.nature.com/articles/s41562-018-0504-3">engage differently</a> with your memories and gain a new perspective on your memories.</p>
<p><strong>Learn and practise <a href="https://theconversation.com/we-dont-yet-fully-understand-what-mindfulness-is-but-this-is-what-its-not-110698">mindfulness strategies</a>.</strong> Instead of dwelling on painful memories, a focus on the present moment (such as attending to your breath, focusing on what you can currently see, smell or hear) can help break a negative cycle</p>
<p>When dwelling on past memories <strong>try being proactive and generate ideas to solve problems</strong> rather than just being passive.</p>
<p><strong>See your GP or health practitioner</strong> if you’re distressed about dwelling on your past.</p>
<hr>
<p><em>If this article has raised issues for you, or if you’re concerned about someone you know, call Lifeline on 13 11 14.</em></p><img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/121630/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
<p class="fine-print"><em><span>Laura Jobson has previously received funding from NIHR. </span></em></p>Remembering past events, experiences or emotions is a big part of being human. But if dwelling on the past is distressing, here’s what you can do to help.Laura Jobson, Senior Lecturer in Clinical Psychology, Monash UniversityLicensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.tag:theconversation.com,2011:article/1164522019-08-12T13:47:27Z2019-08-12T13:47:27ZHow development of the ‘self’ in infants provides clues to the breakdown of memory in dementia<figure><img src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/287700/original/file-20190812-71917-pds75.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=496&fit=clip" /><figcaption><span class="caption">
</span> <span class="attribution"><a class="source" href="https://www.shutterstock.com/image-photo/adorable-baby-boy-looking-ta-his-1442482775">Shutterstock</a></span></figcaption></figure><p>When we look in the mirror we see “me”: a particular combination of features that matches our idea of who we are. We also feel the sensation that the movement of the self in the mirror is under our control – we have a sense of agency and ownership of the mirror image. </p>
<p>But the self we connect with in the mirror extends beyond the moment. Although our features age, we perceive the self in the mirror to be intimately connected to the child, the teenager, the young adult, that once stood before us in our reflection. We see them as the same person who will move forward into the future – the main character in the story of our lives.</p>
<p>This is surprising, since the self in the mirror is not only physically distinct from the self of the past, or the self of the future (our cells <a href="https://science.howstuffworks.com/life/cellular-microscopic/does-body-really-replace-seven-years.htm">constantly age and replace</a>), but cognitively distinct. Our mental processes mature, our choices, dreams and aspirations change – even <a href="http://healthland.time.com/2013/01/04/our-personalities-are-constantly-changing-even-if-we-think-theyre-not/">our personalities</a> are in constant flux. </p>
<p>So our perception of the self as a stable entity is illusory. The human mind is designed to tell us a coherent story of the world, consistent with past experience. Where there are gaps to be filled, the mind fills them. This is what leads some researchers and philosophers to think of <a href="https://www.newscientist.com/round-up/self/">the self as the ultimate illusion</a>. But how does the “self-illusion” develop, and what happens when it dissolves?</p>
<h2>Infancy and memory</h2>
<p>We are born <a href="http://www.psychology.emory.edu/cognition/rochat/lab/self-perception%20and%20action%20in%20infancy.pdf">subjective agents</a>, capable of feeling sensations, experiencing positive and negative emotions and intentionally guiding our own actions. But it is not until the end of infancy that we are able to step outside of this first-hand experience of the self, cognitively reflecting on ourselves from a second-person perspective, as neatly illustrated by the onset of <a href="https://www.fatherly.com/health-science/children-five-stages-self-awareness-mirror-tests/">mirror self-recognition at two years of age</a>.</p>
<p>The idea of “me” first captured by mirror recognition is made up of factual self-knowledge (including information about our physical features and personality traits) and autobiographical self-knowledge (including information about events which have happened to us in the past, and events planned for the future).</p>
<p>The “me” inherent in memory was recognised by early philosophers including <a href="https://www.bartleby.com/essay/Comparative-Essay-David-Hume-vs-John-Locke-P3JH5623TC">Hume and Locke</a>, and the relation between self and memory continues to guide modern theories of <a href="https://www.sciencedirect.com/topics/neuroscience/autobiographical-memory">autobiographical processing</a>. The close link between self and memory provides one explanation for the riddle of “<a href="https://www.psychologytoday.com/gb/blog/media-spotlight/201404/exploring-childhood-amnesia">childhood amnesia</a>” – the fact that adults have no enduring memories prior to the age of two years.</p>
<p>Until children have an idea of “me” that enables them to anchor event memories, they are unlikely to be able to start to build and retrieve a personal life narrative. Our <a href="https://onlinelibrary.wiley.com/doi/full/10.1111/cdev.13211">research</a> measured four to six-year-old children’s factual self-knowledge by asking them to provide self-descriptions, alongside their ability to “label” memories as their own (for example by recalling which of a set of actions they had performed, or which pictures had appeared with their own face). Together, these capacities were predictive of their ability to retrieve specific, autobiographical details of their lives (such as a full narrative of their first day of school or nursery). </p>
<p>Our research therefore provides strong support for the idea that the development of autobiographical memory is dependent on the wider development of self-representation. But what does this close relationship between self and memory mean for the sense of self in old age, when memory may decline?</p>
<h2>Dementia and the breakdown of self-recognition</h2>
<p>Around one in three people born in 2019 will suffer from <a href="https://www.dementiauk.org/understanding-dementia/advice-and-information/dementia-first-steps/what-is-dementia/?gclid=EAIaIQobChMI4MzP05T94wIVCbLtCh21vAKjEAAYAiAAEgLeqPD_BwE">dementia</a> in their lifetime. One of the most distressing symptoms of this condition is the feeling of identity loss associated with the <a href="https://psyarxiv.com/8r3dw/">decline</a> of autobiographical and/or factual self-knowledge.</p>
<figure class="align-center ">
<img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/287701/original/file-20190812-71905-1caod7t.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/287701/original/file-20190812-71905-1caod7t.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=400&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/287701/original/file-20190812-71905-1caod7t.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=400&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/287701/original/file-20190812-71905-1caod7t.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=400&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/287701/original/file-20190812-71905-1caod7t.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=503&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/287701/original/file-20190812-71905-1caod7t.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=503&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/287701/original/file-20190812-71905-1caod7t.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=503&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px">
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">One of the most distressing things about dementia is losing one’s sense of autobiographical identity.</span>
<span class="attribution"><a class="source" href="https://www.shutterstock.com/image-photo/old-lonely-woman-sitting-near-window-218562271">Shutterstock</a></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>Fundamental <a href="https://academic.oup.com/geronj/article-abstract/47/6/P385/559594?redirectedFrom=PDF">breakdowns in self-recognition</a> have been reported in late-stage dementia. Some sufferers fail to recognise themselves in photographs or mirrors, unable to connect their current experience of self to the self of the past. Does this breakdown in the self-illusion suggest that the self is lost? Not if we use the model of development to recognise the importance of agency – the first building block of the self.</p>
<p>The majority of dementia studies have focused on <a href="https://www.academia.edu/3446444/The_impact_of_dementia_on_self_and_identity_A_systematic_review">the link</a> between conceptual self-recognition or autobiographical processing and identity, neglecting the idea of agency. However, behaving intentionally and having our intentions recognised by others is fundamental to our first experience of selfhood.</p>
<p>Despite infants’ relatively limited social repertoire, positive interactions that reinforce agency (such as soothing emotions and engaging in <a href="https://www.psychologytoday.com/us/blog/mortal-rituals/201406/baby-rituals">early conversations</a>) are easily supported by parents and caregivers and are thought to be at <a href="https://www.verywellmind.com/what-is-attachment-theory-2795337">the root of secure attachment relationships</a>. Could this nurturing approach also be applied at the other end of the lifespan to maintain connections between people? </p>
<p>We are currently planning a series of studies to explore this possibility. The first step is to establish whether the dissolution of self follows the same steps as its development. If access to higher level self-representation (such as factual and autobiographical self-knowledge) is lost first, feelings of agency may be the last remaining facet of self. </p>
<p>If this is the case, ultimately it will be important to find ways to positively reinforce dementia sufferers’ experience of their own actions (for example, by providing them with simple opportunities to have a positive effect on the world, such as moving their arms to activate music) and their emotional connection with caregivers (soothing negative emotions, laughing together), over and above conceptual aspects of self (such as prompts to recall self-knowledge). </p>
<p>Although our second-person perspective on self may be illusory and we all experience ageing, our bodily self and the sense of agency it entails is built to make connections with the world, and carry us from cradle to grave.</p><img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/116452/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
<p class="fine-print"><em><span>Josephine Ross has received funding from ESRC, Leverhulme, Carnegie, Nuffield foundations. </span></em></p>In dementia sufferers, if autobiographical self-knowledge is lost, feelings of agency – learned as an child – may be the last remaining facet of self, something most studies have ignored.Josephine Ross, Lecturer in Developmental Psychology, University of DundeeLicensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.tag:theconversation.com,2011:article/1121942019-05-10T13:47:45Z2019-05-10T13:47:45ZMothers and others: My Aunt May’s memoir gave us stories to learn from<figure><img src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/273429/original/file-20190509-183083-1u6d31h.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&rect=0%2C83%2C1216%2C477&q=45&auto=format&w=496&fit=clip" /><figcaption><span class="caption">Stories foremothers keep and pass on may be aimed at enabling future generations to leverage experience for growth and learning. This image, circa 1899, shows the Grey County, Ont. farm of the author’s ancestors.</span> <span class="attribution"><span class="source">(Tracy Penny Light)</span>, <span class="license">Author provided</span></span></figcaption></figure><p>As we celebrate Mother’s Day, I’m thinking not only about my own mother, but also the other women and <a href="http://demeterpress.org/books/mothers-as-keepers-and-tellers-of-origin-stories/">foremothers who are keepers of family histories</a>. </p>
<p>In 1983, when I was 13, my grandfather’s aunt, Agnes May Henry, sent a note to my mother telling her I may want to read her memoir. At the time, the woman we called Aunt May was 81. Although she was a special matriarch in my family, it wasn’t until I was grown and <a href="http://kamino.tru.ca/experts/home/main/bio.html?id=tpennylight">a historian, teacher</a> and <a href="https://youtu.be/ZvsPrFjDB8E">researcher interested in how personal stories help students learn</a> that I took any interest in the memoir. </p>
<p>As a historian who has studied the changing constructions of gender and sexuality in the 19th and 20th centuries, <a href="https://www.ubcpress.ca/consuming-modernity">including in interwar Canada</a>, most remarkable to me among May’s memories are those of her learning and work during the Second World War. </p>
<p>In her account, she is struck (it seems for the first time) at the limits placed on women in certain roles as that had not been her experience within her own family context. May remained unmarried throughout her life, had no children and she worked in various jobs, thereby avoiding or bypassing the traditional role for many women of her time. </p>
<h2>Are memories ‘true?’</h2>
<p>May’s memoir explores the history of our family through descriptions of roles she assumed throughout her life. As a child, she and her siblings helped the family economy by carrying out traditional tasks like scrubbing floors with homemade “soft soap” made from <a href="https://www.motherearthnews.com/homesteading-and-livestock/handmade-soap-zbcz1403">rendered fat</a>, <a href="https://hssh.journals.yorku.ca/index.php/hssh/article/view/38451">duties associated with dairying</a>, making maple syrup and collecting firewood to heat the house in winter. Many of these things were learned from her mother.</p>
<p>What is interesting in the memoir is May’s assertion that all work chores on the farm “changed with the age of the child, but the gender was never a consideration.” Are May’s memories of gender neutrality around work in her family her own constructions? </p>
<p>In other words, are these memories “true?” As a historian, I am deeply aware of the challenges associated with memoirs. As historian Elaine Tyler May and memoirist Patricia Hampl write in their book <a href="https://www.mnhs.org/mnhspress/books/tell-me-true"><em>Tell Me True: Memoir, History and Writing a Life</em></a>, memory is selective, biased and presents choices to later readers about how to use and regard stories left by historical actors. The memoirist, they say, “instinctively presents the personal story — the memoir, in effect — as a radical document, to be read as personal and public.” </p>
<figure class="align-center ">
<img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/273413/original/file-20190508-183112-te1kz4.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/273413/original/file-20190508-183112-te1kz4.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=331&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/273413/original/file-20190508-183112-te1kz4.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=331&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/273413/original/file-20190508-183112-te1kz4.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=331&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/273413/original/file-20190508-183112-te1kz4.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=416&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/273413/original/file-20190508-183112-te1kz4.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=416&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/273413/original/file-20190508-183112-te1kz4.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=416&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px">
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">Strathaven Public School, Grey County, Ont. about 1899-1900, attended by the author’s Aunt May as she became school aged.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">(Tracy Penny Light)</span>, <span class="license">Author provided</span></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>May’s account that gender was not a consideration may say something both about how she read her own individual experience or a hope or vision for a bigger social context. Could she have been aware, as historian Sally Alexander writes, that family stories provide us with <a href="https://doi.org/10.1093/ohr/ohp078">“the raw material of history and social change”</a> that serves to influence identity development and shape how we move through the world? </p>
<h2>Sexism at work</h2>
<figure class="align-left ">
<img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/273416/original/file-20190508-183086-6kxiws.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=237&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/273416/original/file-20190508-183086-6kxiws.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=867&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/273416/original/file-20190508-183086-6kxiws.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=867&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/273416/original/file-20190508-183086-6kxiws.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=867&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/273416/original/file-20190508-183086-6kxiws.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=1090&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/273416/original/file-20190508-183086-6kxiws.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=1090&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/273416/original/file-20190508-183086-6kxiws.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=1090&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px">
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">A. May Henry in her Canadian Women’s Army Corps uniform about 1945.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">(Tracy Penny Light)</span>, <span class="license">Author provided</span></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>In the early 1940s, May <a href="https://www.thecanadianencyclopedia.ca/en/article/de-havilland-aircraft-of-canada-limited">worked at de Havilland</a>, an aircraft manufacturer in Toronto. She developed an allergy to what she called the “dope” — a lacquer used to make planes airtight and weatherproof — that was applied during construction. </p>
<p>As a result, she was asked to take a <a href="https://www.britannica.com/technology/tool-and-die-making">tool-and-die making</a> course in British Columbia by her superiors so that she could train other women to perform these tasks. May was excited for the new learning opportunity and was not daunted by the prospect of making her way alone across the country. But after travelling by bus to Vancouver, May was dismayed when she was turned away by the school. </p>
<p>She notes in the memoir:</p>
<blockquote>
<p>“I went to B.C. for my ‘change’ but found B.C. still didn’t seem to know there was a war on and refused to let a girl into their T. & D. course.” </p>
</blockquote>
<p>This was despite the fact that she travelled with a letter from her Toronto supervisors, she writes. Frustrated by her rejection as a result of her gender, she decided she did not want to teach tool-and-die and returned to Toronto to find other work. </p>
<h2>Remembering the stories left to us</h2>
<p>May’s story points to the importance of telling our stories to future generations as one way of inviting next generations to ask questions about the interaction of individual lives with larger histories.</p>
<p>The work of cultural anthropologist <a href="https://www.mcbateson.com">Mary Catherine Bateson</a> emphasizes the ways <a href="https://onbeing.org/programs/mary-catherine-bateson-composing-a-life-aug2017/">owning our own life stories</a> and sharing them with others can help us to make mindful choices as we move through the world. </p>
<p>Mother’s Day is an opportunity to reflect on the stories that the women in our families leave us because they may <a href="https://utorontopress.com/ca/canadians-and-their-pasts-4">help us to understand many of the memories, identities or histories we draw upon</a> that shape our future.</p><img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/112194/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
<p class="fine-print"><em><span>Tracy Penny Light is the President and Board Chair of the Association for Authentic and Evidence-Based Learning (AAEEBL.org)</span></em></p>A historian reflects on the meaning of an aunt’s rural and war-time memoir, flagged for her attention when she was aged 13 by the then-81-year-old elder.Tracy Penny Light, Associate Professor, Department of Philosophy, History and Politics, Thompson Rivers UniversityLicensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.tag:theconversation.com,2011:article/789952017-09-05T20:09:09Z2017-09-05T20:09:09ZWhy we remember our youth as one big hedonistic party<figure><img src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/176695/original/file-20170704-12293-18k5znb.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=496&fit=clip" /><figcaption><span class="caption">Vinyl records and cassette tapes, the parties that went with them, and other hedonistic pleasures from our youth can form a big part of our identity years later.</span> <span class="attribution"><a class="source" href="https://www.shutterstock.com/download/confirm/196286351?src=MS9fjuLsxmtThe6kVJk0pg-1-14&size=medium_jpg">from www.shutterstock.com</a></span></figcaption></figure><p><em>This is the last article in our three-part series on <a href="https://theconversation.com/au/topics/hedonism-and-health-41470">hedonism and health</a>.</em></p>
<hr>
<p>Are the hedonistic adventures of your late teens and 20s fresh in your memory? Can you easily recall footloose years when school ended and before serious adult life began? Perhaps you enjoyed a few years of partying until dawn, nights of cheap wine, good friends and song. Or maybe it was all so wild that you remember nothing at all.</p>
<p>Bruce Springsteen sang about looking back on these “glory days”; the days before careers, children or other responsibilities <a href="https://reverb.com/au/news/the-science-behind-if-its-too-loud-youre-too-old">took over</a>.</p>
<figure>
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<figcaption><span class="caption">Bruce Springsteen’s Glory Days captures the days before careers, children or other responsibilities took over.</span></figcaption>
</figure>
<p>Of course, not everybody has time or the opportunity to party, or remembers their youth with perfect pleasure. But why do many of us still recall so vividly and tell stories of our hedonistic younger days? Why do such memories remain rosy and important touchstones?</p>
<h2>Memory is selective</h2>
<p>The first reason is that memory is <a href="http://www.sciencedirect.com/science/article/pii/S0749596X05000987">selective</a>. To remember an experience or event we need to pay attention to it. Then we need to rehearse it by thinking or talking about it. Events that are “encoded” in this way are “stored” in our long-term memory. </p>
<p>But not everything we do, say or feel everyday is encoded and stored in memory. We are more likely to encode events that stand out, are highly emotional, mark first-time experiences or represent big changes in our lives: your first ever muddy music festival or a party that got wonderfully out of control.</p>
<figure>
<iframe width="440" height="260" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/h04CH9YZcpI?wmode=transparent&start=0" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen=""></iframe>
<figcaption><span class="caption">“Hold onto 16 as long as you can” - John Mellencamp, Jack and Diane.</span></figcaption>
</figure>
<p>Recalling or “retrieving” events from our long-term memory also is motivated. By motivated we mean that remembering some events but not others serves a psychological purpose. We tend to remember events from the past that are consistent with how we want to see ourselves now. Our sense of identity and memories are completely intertwined. </p>
<p>Former party animals thinking about their past selectively remember party animal memories. Each time they think of these memories, instead of memories inconsistent with this picture, they reinforce a particular view of themselves and their hedonistic past. </p>
<p>Memory researchers call this “<a href="http://psycnet.apa.org/psycinfo/2012-30152-001/">retrieval induced forgetting</a>”: by repeatedly rehearsing or practising some memories (“that time I partied all night”), we forget about other related memories (“that time I studied all night”), shaping and reshaping our sense of the past and ourselves.</p>
<h2>Memories of our teenage years matter</h2>
<p>The second reason is a phenomenon known as “<a href="https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/labs/articles/12507360/">the reminiscence bump</a>”. When we look back over the past, we don’t remember an equal number of events across our lives. Instead, we remember more from our teenage and early adult years. </p>
<p>Memories in this <a href="https://theconversation.com/the-things-you-remember-best-happened-when-you-were-between-15-and-25-heres-why-68792">reminiscence bump</a> overwhelmingly are of positive, not negative, <a href="https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/labs/articles/12507360/">experiences</a>. Researchers have long speculated why, but one explanation is these are the years when we form a stable <a href="https://link.springer.com/article/10.3758%2FMC.36.8.1403?LI=true">lifelong identity</a>. </p>
<p>Because the events that happen to us in this “bump” are formative and central to how we view ourselves, we tend to remember them well. And because – for most of us – we selectively remember the past to form a positive, optimistic identity, we encode and store positive rather than negative memories.</p>
<figure>
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<figcaption><span class="caption">“Those were the best days of my life” - Bryan Adams, Summer of ‘69.</span></figcaption>
</figure>
<p>Interestingly, the reminiscence bump applies not just to our personal experiences, but also to the <a href="https://link.springer.com/article/10.3758/s13421-016-0647-2">music we recognise and love</a>. This personally significant music usually dates from our teenage and early adult years and can <a href="https://theconversation.com/the-power-of-our-song-the-musical-glue-that-binds-friends-and-lovers-across-the-ages-73593">trigger vivid memories</a> decades later. </p>
<p>So the identity we form in our early adulthood – the wild child – shapes our recollections and helps shape us for the rest of our lives – the former wild child settling down.</p>
<h2>Memory can be a social glue</h2>
<p>The third reason is that memory is inherently <a href="https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pubmed/23808866">social</a>. We use memory to build our individual identity, but just as importantly, we use memory to build social bonds, entertain others and teach the next generation (“do what I say, not what I did”).</p>
<p>In fact, researchers have shown that adolescents who can re-tell their parents’ teenage memories and connect them to their own developing sense of identity report higher levels of <a href="https://theconversation.com/remember-when-we-why-sharing-memories-is-soul-food-35542">psychological well-being</a>.</p>
<figure>
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<figcaption><span class="caption">“A long, long time ago, I can still remember …” - Don McLean, American Pie.</span></figcaption>
</figure>
<p>Over time, the exact details of what happened when we were young may become less important than the sense of belonging and shared identity we gain from joint reminiscing and storytelling. </p>
<p>Events become exaggerated, parties become wilder and bands become more amazing as we tell and re-tell stories for <a href="http://journals.sagepub.com/doi/full/10.1111/j.1467-8721.2007.00467.x">different audiences and different purposes</a>: from nostalgic reminiscing at our high school reunion, to introducing our children to Pink Floyd, or starting those tricky parenting conversations about sex, drugs and rock ‘n’ roll.</p>
<p>So we remember and tell stories of our hedonistic past because these events were memorable, unless it was the 60s and you remember nothing! Remembering them also helps us to see ourselves then and now in desirable ways, and sharing these memories binds us to others in important ways. </p>
<p>But were we as wild as we remember? Perhaps or perhaps not. But our memories of more carefree times serve us well.</p>
<hr>
<p><em>Read other articles in our hedonism and health series:</em></p>
<p><em><a href="https://theconversation.com/what-is-hedonism-and-how-does-it-affect-your-health-78040">What is hedonism and how does it affect your health?</a></em></p>
<p><em><a href="https://theconversation.com/hedonism-not-only-leads-to-binge-drinking-its-part-of-the-solution-81751">Hedonism not only leads to binge drinking, it’s part of the solution</a></em></p><img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/78995/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
<p class="fine-print"><em><span>Amanda Barnier receives funding from the Australian Research Council.</span></em></p><p class="fine-print"><em><span>Celia Harris receives funding from the Australian Research Council.</span></em></p>Memories of our carefree youth help form our identity today. But memories are selective. So, were we really as wild as we think we were?Amanda Barnier, Professor of Cognitive Science and Australian Research Council Future Fellow, Macquarie UniversityCelia Harris, Australian Research Council Discovery Early Career Research Fellow, Macquarie UniversityLicensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.tag:theconversation.com,2011:article/805062017-07-07T13:26:17Z2017-07-07T13:26:17ZHow we discovered that brain connections shape memories<figure><img src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/177304/original/file-20170707-3075-1oj067h.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=496&fit=clip" /><figcaption><span class="caption">Brain connections determine whether you remember the wind in your hair or who was prime minister.</span> <span class="attribution"><a class="source" href="https://www.shutterstock.com/image-photo/black-white-family-photos-laid-on-291676466?src=jn8hpSos3Z1DoWhIWyBEuA-1-18">Halfpoint/Shutterstock</a></span></figcaption></figure><p>Reliving and sharing our personal past is part of what makes us human. It creates a sense of who we are, allows us to plan for the future and helps us form relationships. But we don’t all remember our past in the same way. In fact, the nature and quality of memory differs considerably between people. </p>
<p>For instance, when asked to remember something about a party, one person might describe vividly their sixth birthday: how the gifts were laid out, the sweet, chocolatey taste of the hedgehog cake and going to bed really late. Another person might not recall this precise detail, but remember that their aunt despised parties and that hedgehog cakes were <a href="https://pinkscharming.com/make-do/recipes/classic-80s-cake-harriet-hedgehog-how-to/">massive in the 80s</a>.</p>
<p>So, our personal memories contain different types of information. Some of this is very specific about when and where things happened – and what it felt like. This collection of personal experiences is known as “episodic memory”. Other bits are general facts about the world, ourselves and the people we know. This is called “semantic memory”. A big question in neuroscience is whether these two memory types involve distinct parts of the brain.</p>
<p>Individuals who have suffered damage to a region called the hippocampus (involved in memory, learning and emotion) have been found to remember facts about their lives but lack the <a href="https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pubmed/15716139">high-resolution, episodic detail</a>. On the other hand, patients with a rare form of dementia, known as <a href="http://memory.ucsf.edu/ftd/overview/ftd/forms/multiple/sd">semantic dementia</a>, can remember episodic information, but not the facts that glue it all together. Intriguingly, these individuals show early degeneration of another part of the brain called the anterior temporal lobe (thought to be critical for semantic memory).</p>
<h2>Networks versus areas</h2>
<p>But can we see a similar distinction in the healthy brain? As reflecting on our past is highly complex, it seems likely that different brain regions must work together to achieve it. And studies using <a href="https://psychcentral.com/lib/what-is-functional-magnetic-resonance-imaging-fmri/">functional MRI</a> have shown that personal memories activate <a href="http://onlinelibrary.wiley.com/doi/10.1002/hbm.22008/abstract">large networks in the brain</a>. </p>
<p>So it appears that memory cannot be boiled down to one or two particular brain areas. We have to think more widely than that. The brain itself is made up of both grey and white tissue. The white part, known as “white matter”, contains fibres that allow information to travel between different areas of the brain. So could these connections themselves predict <em>how</em> we remember? </p>
<p>In our latest study, published in the journal <a href="http://www.sciencedirect.com/science/article/pii/S001094521730165X">Cortex</a>, we explored this question by using a brain scanning technique known as <a href="https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pubmed/18635164">diffusion MRI</a>. This method uses the movement of water molecules to map out the brain’s white matter pathways.</p>
<p>We asked 27 college-aged volunteers to lie still in the scanner as we collected images of their brains. Using these images we could identify specific pathways and pull out measures their structure – indicating how efficiently information can travel between connected regions. </p>
<figure class="align-center ">
<img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/177145/original/file-20170706-31685-11k8zrw.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/177145/original/file-20170706-31685-11k8zrw.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=389&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/177145/original/file-20170706-31685-11k8zrw.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=389&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/177145/original/file-20170706-31685-11k8zrw.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=389&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/177145/original/file-20170706-31685-11k8zrw.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=488&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/177145/original/file-20170706-31685-11k8zrw.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=488&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/177145/original/file-20170706-31685-11k8zrw.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=488&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px">
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">Virtually dissecting white matter connections.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">Carl Hodgetts/Cardiff University</span></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>Outside the scanner, each volunteer was asked to describe memories from their past in response to cue words, such as “party” or “holiday”. By going through and painstakingly coding each memory, we could work out how “episodic” and “semantic” each person’s memory was. For instance, precise spatial statements would count toward the episodic score (“The Eiffel Tower was directly behind us”), and facts would count toward the semantic score (“Paris is my sister’s favourite city”).</p>
<p>We found that the amount of rich, episodic detail that volunteers remembered was related to the connectivity of an arch-shaped white matter pathway called the fornix, which links to the hippocampus. So, the more efficiently the fornix can relay information from the hippocampus to surrounding regions, the more episodic someone’s memory is.</p>
<figure class="align-center zoomable">
<a href="https://images.theconversation.com/files/177142/original/file-20170706-29221-146np91.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=1000&fit=clip"><img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/177142/original/file-20170706-29221-146np91.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/177142/original/file-20170706-29221-146np91.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=428&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/177142/original/file-20170706-29221-146np91.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=428&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/177142/original/file-20170706-29221-146np91.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=428&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/177142/original/file-20170706-29221-146np91.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=538&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/177142/original/file-20170706-29221-146np91.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=538&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/177142/original/file-20170706-29221-146np91.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=538&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px"></a>
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">Pathways to personal memory.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">Carl Hodgetts/Cardiff University</span></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>A different white matter pathway – catchily named the <a href="http://onlinelibrary.wiley.com/doi/10.1111/j.1469-8749.2011.04122.x/full">inferior longitudinal fasciculus </a> – strongly predicted how semantic people’s memories were. Interestingly, this long bundle of white matter is the major route from visual parts of the brain to the anterior temporal lobe – the same region that is affected in cases of semantic dementia.</p>
<h2>Wired for memory</h2>
<p>These findings suggest that differences in how we each remember our past are reflected in how our brains are wired. Historically, neuroscience has <a href="https://theconversation.com/the-brain-a-radical-rethink-is-needed-to-understand-it-74460">tended to see brain regions as singletons</a>, working alone. These results suggest the alternative: that links between regions – and the networks they form – are critical for how we think and behave. </p>
<p>Our finding also supports the idea that there are separate memory “systems” in the brain. One for reliving time and place and another for pulling in general knowledge and personal facts.</p>
<figure class="align-center ">
<img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/177306/original/file-20170707-3066-1cw6yi3.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/177306/original/file-20170707-3066-1cw6yi3.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=400&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/177306/original/file-20170707-3066-1cw6yi3.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=400&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/177306/original/file-20170707-3066-1cw6yi3.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=400&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/177306/original/file-20170707-3066-1cw6yi3.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=503&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/177306/original/file-20170707-3066-1cw6yi3.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=503&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/177306/original/file-20170707-3066-1cw6yi3.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=503&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px">
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">People with dementia may one day be able to benefit from the findings.</span>
<span class="attribution"><a class="source" href="https://www.shutterstock.com/image-photo/senior-womans-hand-touching-old-photo-416084137?src=CVFHuuIapGrNTqX_9eVl3g-1-1">Bojan Milinkov/Shutterstock</a></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>Could these findings help people with memory problems? Not yet, but working out how memory works in healthy people may eventually help us understand exactly what goes wrong in the brain when we get diseases like Alzheimer’s – and help us treat it. For instance, people with damage to the “episodic” network, such as those with early Alzheimer’s disease, may benefit from semantic memory strategies to compensate. A recent study found that cuing memories with <a href="http://www.sciencedirect.com/science/article/pii/S0028393217302476">physical objects</a> led to better episodic memory in people with Alzheimer’s.</p>
<p>There’s plenty we still don’t know about the brain’s white matter. A number of properties can affect how information travels along it, such as the density of fibres. In the future, we can use <a href="http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/health-40488545">new and powerful scanning techniques</a> to uncover the parts of white matter that drive these fascinating effects.</p><img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/80506/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
<p class="fine-print"><em><span>Carl Hodgetts receives funding from the Wellcome Trust. </span></em></p>Neuroscientists have struggled to explain whether certain types of memory involve distinct parts of the brain. Now a study suggests it’s mainly down to pathways in the brain’s white matter.Carl Hodgetts, Research Fellow in Cognitive Neuroscience, Cardiff UniversityLicensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.tag:theconversation.com,2011:article/632102016-07-29T11:09:57Z2016-07-29T11:09:57ZMemory and sense of self may play more of a role in autism than we thought<figure><img src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/132376/original/image-20160728-12120-1j4cue.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=496&fit=clip" /><figcaption><span class="caption">Our sense of self is grounded in our memories, but recalling these details is harder for people with autism.</span> <span class="attribution"><span class="source">pathdoc/shutterstock.com</span></span></figcaption></figure><p>It’s well-known that those with autism spectrum disorders including Asperger’s syndrome develop difficulties with social communication and show stereotyped patterns of behaviour. Less well-studied but equally characteristic features are a weaker sense of self and mood disorders such as depression and anxiety. These are connected with a weaker ability to recall personal memories, known as autobiographical memory.</p>
<p>Research now suggests that autobiographical memory’s role in creating a sense of self may be a key element behind the development of autistic characteristics. </p>
<p>Autism is much more common in men than in women, to the extent that one theory of autism explains it as the <a href="http://autismtruths.org/pdf/SimonBaronCohen_The%20extreme-male-brain%20theory%20of%20autism.pdf">result of an “extreme male” brain</a>, where autistic females are assumed to be more masculinised. Historically, however, research participants have been predominantly male, which has left gaps in our knowledge about autism in women and girls. Psychologists have suggested that the criteria used for diagnosing autism may suffer from a male bias, meaning that many women and girls go undiagnosed <a href="http://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pubmed/25717130">until much later in life, if at all</a></p>
<h2>What we remember of ourselves</h2>
<p>This is supported by research that suggests <a href="http://link.springer.com/article/10.1007/s10803-014-2109-7#/page-1">women with autism develop different characteristics</a> than autistic males – particularly in respect to autobiographical memory.</p>
<p>Personal memories play a key role in many of the psychological functions that are affected in those on the autistic spectrum. Personal memories help us form a picture of who we are and our sense of self. They help us predict how others might think, feel and behave and, when faced with personal problems, our past experiences provide insight into what strategies we might use to cope or achieve our goals. Sharing personal memories in conversation helps us to connect with others. Recalling positive memories when we feel down can help lift us up, while dwelling on negative personal memories can induce depression.</p>
<p>What’s become clear from studies of autobiographical memory in autism is that while those with autism may have an excellent memory for factual information, the process of storing and recalling specific personal experiences, such as those that happened on a particular day in a particular place, is much more difficult. Instead, their memories tend to record their experience in general terms, rather than the specifics of the occasion. This might be due in part to their more repetitive lifestyle, in which there are less occasions that stick out as memorable, but also because they are less self-aware and less likely to self-reflect. However, our research suggests that this memory impairment <a href="http://link.springer.com/article/10.1007/s10803-014-2109-7#/page-1">may be exclusive to autistic males</a>. </p>
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<img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/132379/original/image-20160728-12089-138u97v.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/132379/original/image-20160728-12089-138u97v.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=374&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/132379/original/image-20160728-12089-138u97v.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=374&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/132379/original/image-20160728-12089-138u97v.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=374&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/132379/original/image-20160728-12089-138u97v.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=470&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/132379/original/image-20160728-12089-138u97v.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=470&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/132379/original/image-20160728-12089-138u97v.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=470&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px">
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<span class="caption">Missing or indistinct memories can add to the sense of otherness, confusion and anxiety experienced by autistic people.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">Lightspring/shutterstock.com</span></span>
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<h2>Divided by memory</h2>
<p>We examined the personal memories of 12 girls and 12 boys with autism, and compared them with an equal number of girls and boys of similar IQ and verbal ability without autism. We asked them to remember specific events in response to emotional and neutral cue words such as “happy” and “fast”. We also asked them to recall in as much detail as they could their earliest memories, and recollections from other periods of their life.</p>
<p>We know that girls tend to demonstrate better verbal skills and are better at recognising emotions. Might this affect the content and degree of detail they could recall from their own memories? We also wondered whether any gender differences we might find would be replicated between boys and girls with autism, or whether autistic girls would be more like boys – as predicted by the extreme male brain theory.</p>
<p>What we found was that autism did lead to less specific and less detailed memories, but only for the boys. The girls with autism performed more like non-autistic girls – not only were their memories more specific and more detailed than the autistic boys, but like the girls without autism, their memories contained more references to their emotional states than both the autistic and non-autistic boys. So rather than an extreme male brain, the girls with autism were more like girls without autism.</p>
<p>This better autobiographical memory might be one reason why autistic females are often better at masking the difficulties they have with communication and socialising with others, and so are more likely to go undiagnosed. Of course, this poses the question that if they have the building blocks of good communication – access to detailed personal memories – why are they still autistic?</p>
<p>There is some evidence to suggest that the automatic connection between our memories and knowing who we are, and how to use this information to inform how we act in problematic situations, <a href="http://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pubmed/16874561">is weaker in those with autism</a>. This means that while women with autism can recall the past, they may not be using their experience to help them understand themselves and solve personal problems. </p>
<p>Even though they may be better able to socialise than boys with autism, this may come at a cost, as greater social interaction brings with it more personal problems, and when problems seem overwhelming this can lead to depression. Indeed, recent research suggests that among those with autism, depression in more common in women than men. This gender difference with respect to personal memories is an aspect of autistic characteristics that has been little studied, and should be explored further.</p><img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/63210/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
<p class="fine-print"><em><span>Lorna Goddard receives funding from the Economics and Social Research Council UK. </span></em></p>Men and women experience autism differently, which shows something revealing about where autistic characteristics may come from.Lorna Goddard, Lecturer in Psychology, Goldsmiths, University of LondonLicensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.tag:theconversation.com,2011:article/606932016-06-10T10:08:59Z2016-06-10T10:08:59ZCan Jude Law’s ‘Genius’ capture the essence of Thomas Wolfe?<p>For Jude Law, playing the part of early 20th-century novelist Thomas Wolfe is a tall order. Yes, the actor is a half-foot shorter than the literary giant he portrays in the film <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt1703957/">“Genius,”</a> which tells the story of Wolfe and his contentious, complicated relationship with prominent Scribner’s editor Maxwell Perkins (Colin Firth). </p>
<p>But forget about altitude. What about attitude? </p>
<p>Over the past several years, I’ve been putting together a book of reminiscences entitled “Thomas Wolfe Remembered” (forthcoming in 2017). My co-editor, Nami Montgomery, and I have combed through dozens of accounts of the man by his family, friends, agent, editors, typists and others who knew him intimately or casually. </p>
<p>These acquaintances tell quite a story, and Wolfe’s personality was even larger than his 6'6" frame (which, by Wolfe’s own admission, once weighed some 240 pounds).</p>
<p>Alternatively exuberant and morose, captivating and maddening, delightful and just plain weird, Wolfe is likely the most fascinating author I’ve encountered in the quarter-century that I’ve been reading and studying literature. </p>
<h2>‘A hydroelectic plant of emotion’</h2>
<p>Those who knew Wolfe remembered him as an overgrown child – one who could skip around a room in excitement or throw outrageous tantrums over a bad review.</p>
<p>His childlike sense of wonderment endeared him to many. One evening, after he spotted a freight car at a tiny train station in New Jersey (nothing delighted him more than trains), his eyes lit up. As he often did when he became excited, he began to stutter. </p>
<p>“K-K-Kitty!” he said to one of the women with him. “Look! This is America.” He then insisted that his companions touch the tracks.</p>
<p>Reviews and letters from Asheville, North Carolina – Wolfe’s hometown – could elicit very different reactions from the temperamental author.</p>
<p>Wolfe’s first novel, “<a href="https://books.google.com/books?id=koSYQSSCjKwC&printsec=frontcover&dq=you+can't+go+home+again+thomas+wolfe&hl=en&sa=X&ved=0ahUKEwj11aPwp5vNAhUC2D4KHR7xD9IQ6AEINzAD#v=onepage&q&f=false">Look Homeward, Angel</a>,” was a thinly veiled autobiography, and the inspirations for many characters were easily identifiable. The portraits were far from rosy. <a href="http://www.learnnc.org/lp/editions/nchist-newcentury/6052">As one reviewer noted</a>, Wolfe’s portrayal of Asheville was “crowded with pain, bitterness and ugliness,” and many townspeople were displeased over having their scandals “dragged forth into the light.” </p>
<p>Fellow novelist Vardis Fisher remembered Wolfe reading some of the backlash aloud to him, “weeping, cursing, hating – hating as I have never seen a man hate.”</p>
<p>He was, as one of his typists put it, “no single-watt man, but a hydroelectric plant of emotion.”</p>
<h2>A creative force</h2>
<p>When it came to writing, though, this hydroelectric plant generated an astonishing output. He was prone to procrastination, but when he did get around to putting pencil to his patented yellow sheets of paper, he made them “fly as though they’d been blown from a fan,” recalled one typist, who “would catch up the pages as he finished them” and try to decipher his notoriously cryptic handwriting.</p>
<p>After “Look Homeward, Angel,” Wolfe worked on various manuscripts simultaneously, simply writing whatever anecdote or scene he wished to capture on any particular day. The products of these efforts – thousands upon thousands of pages – filled a giant packing crate (along with shoes, hats, pots and pans, and more) in his apartment. </p>
<p>One manuscript he delivered to an editor was almost five feet tall. When Wolfe died unexpectedly before he could help sort out all the pages, the editor spent years preparing it for publication. The result was three posthumous books: “<a href="https://books.google.com/books/about/The_web_and_the_rock.html?id=dRZHAAAAYAAJ">The Web and the Rock</a>,” “<a href="https://books.google.com/books/about/You_Can_t_Go_Home_Again.html?id=JvJxTAnB17cC">You Can’t Go Home Again</a>” and “<a href="https://books.google.com/books?id=S7byrQEACAAJ&dq=the+hills+beyond+google+books&hl=en&sa=X&ved=0ahUKEwirrdL7qpvNAhVBHD4KHeylCssQ6AEIJzAA">The Hills Beyond</a>.”</p>
<p>You might expect someone who used a packing crate as a filing system to have less than orderly personal habits. You’d be correct.</p>
<p>He lived in spectacular disarray and squalor. One of his typists, James Mandel, recalled a table “cluttered with papers, ledgers, books, unwashed dishes, ashes, cigarette butts, pencils and glasses” and a floor piled so high with debris that it was nearly impossible to navigate. </p>
<p>“And his personal appearance was no better when he was busy with his writing,” Mandel continued. “Hair unkempt, dirt under his finger nails, grimy hands, soiled shirt, unpressed trousers!” </p>
<p>A friend wrote that Wolfe “always looked as if he was on his way to a fire, having pulled his pants on as he was sliding down the pole.”</p>
<h2>A ‘genial bear’ at heart</h2>
<p>For all his eccentricities, Thomas Wolfe was remarkably warm, polite and modest. One acquaintance remembered him at parties acting like a “great, genial bear.” </p>
<p>People loved to listen to his stories, which were as vivid as his fiction. And at a conference in Colorado, he spoke sympathetically to less accomplished writers, sharing his own struggles.</p>
<p>But my favorite story about Wolfe reveals his humanity – and humor. </p>
<p>He was in a bar in New Orleans, and a man who didn’t know Wolfe came upon a copy of “Look Homeward, Angel,” which someone had brought to the bar. He read a bit of it and declared it worthless – “a lot of bosh” and “a lot of tripe.” </p>
<p>Wolfe overheard the man. Here was an artist who had exhausted years crafting those words, who embraced writing as his life’s driving force – and who was also known to fly into a rage over a bad review.</p>
<p>William H. Fitzpatrick, a journalist who was present, left us an account of what happened next.</p>
<p>Wolfe snatched the book from the man and read aloud its most famous words: “O lost, and by the wind grieved, ghost, come back again.”</p>
<p>“Tripe,” said Wolfe. “And bosh. I never read such bosh in my life. Rack ‘em up, Ollie.”</p>
<p>That was Thomas Wolfe, too.</p>
<p>Did Jude Law capture this Thomas Wolfe – and all the other Thomas Wolfes – in “Genius”?</p>
<p>To express even a fraction of the Byzantine personality that Wolfe’s agent, Elizabeth Nowell, compared to the “facets of a diamond” would be an impressive feat.</p>
<p>There will never be another Thomas Wolfe. But Law, if he has succeeded, will qualify as another kind of artistic “Genius.”</p>
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<figcaption><span class="caption">The trailer for ‘Genius.’</span></figcaption>
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<p class="fine-print"><em><span>Mark Canada does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organization that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.</span></em></p>The president of the Thomas Wolfe Society explains why Law had his work cut out for him when he agreed to portray a man who was “a hydroelectric plant of emotion.”Mark Canada, Vice Chancellor for Academic Affairs, Indiana UniversityLicensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.