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If you can't remember your child hood

moonbogg

Lifer
Is that kid dead? That kid doesn't exist anymore so whats the difference between growing up and the kid dying? Its like a slow death isn't it?
 
The kid is still there. Compartmentalization tucks the traumatic experiences away so your Dr Jeckyll side doesn't have to relive it. 🙂
 
You're on to something there. Our memories are our lives. If yours was wiped then the person you were wouldn't exist anymore, really. But I think you're slicing it too fine. Nobody forgets _all_ of their childhood. There are memories still resident that provide continuity.
 
"If you can't remember your childhood . . . "

. . . you'll soon meet a Japanese schoolgirl expecting you to keep your promise to marry her.

And then put on spandex or climb into a giant robot to fight alien monsters.
 
If you took someone's kid away and replaced them with their future adult selves, their parents would not be happy. That is not their kid. They don't say the same things, eat the same, desire the same, cry the same, nothing is the same. The kid feels different, thinks different, the entire body consists of different atoms and cells, they have been totally replaced with a different person.
One person led to the other, and the chain of events leaves traces behind, but they are not the same person.
 
My earliest memories are back to around 4 years old.

How come no one is mourning the loss of a 4 year old? Or a 12 year old, or 15 year old?
Lay yourself out in time slices, from left to right representing "you" in 5 year gaps. You have a different person each time. If you died at the 15 year time slice, your parents would mourn the loss of their 15 year old child and most people would remember you as being 15, the age you died. But why would no one mourn the loss of the 5 year old? They weren't cute enough to mourn or something?
They don't mourn because they have an adequate replacement. That's right, children can be replaced and no one cares, so long as the process is slow enough for them to mourn slowly along the way.
"Oh, he doesn't let me hold him like he used to when he was younger." That's a continual mourning, accompanied by continual joy upon greeting the new person in their lives each day you wake up.
 
I don't remember much before about age 20. Bits and pieces. Memory fades, and you smoke a lot of pot, drink too much. That's life.
 
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