If memories are not literal records of events, then why do some of the images created during periods of intense arousal seem so real? Recent research suggests that the realness of an image is reinforced by the intensity of the arousal associated with it. Pierre Gloor, a Montreal surgeon working in the same city as Penfield some fifty years later, discovered that the "memories" Penfield reported were only activated when the electrodes stimulated both the sensory areas and the limbic portion of the brain simultaneously. The limbic area of the brain is largely responsible for feelings and emotions. Gloor and his colleagues concluded that "some affective (emotional) or motivational significance to a perception
may be...the precondition for the perception to be consciously experienced or recalled and may imply that all consciously perceived events must assume some kind of affective dimension, if ever so slight." In other words, they concluded that emotional feelings are essential for the experience of remembering.
In another study, William Gray found that juvenile offenders (to whom he was trying to teach new behaviors) only made real changes when there was an emotional tone associated with their perceptions. Otherwise, they would "forget" what they had learned. Other researchers have expanded on Gloor's and Gray's find-ings and their conclusions are virtually the same. An associated emotion or feeling is an essential prerequisite for any remembered element of experience. But what happens when there's an overwhelming arousal?
Life-threatening events stimulate arousal. In response, the nervous system goes into survival mode and the organism has to make an instantaneous decision. To accomplish this task, it weighs the elements of the present situation and shifts into a research mode. It compares the present to the past, looking for a response that might help resolve the current dilemma. Recorded memory would be of no use to us at this point because we have no time to run through a list. We need to have the whole picture immediately.
These pictures are organized by their levels of arousal, activation, emotion, and response. Our gestalts of experience are categorized by the levels of activation at which they1 occurred. An analogy of this could be a multi-storied library with several floors of shelved books. The lower stories hold books associated with lower levels of activation
(arousal) and those in higher stories are related to higher levels. If we think of the books as containing images and responses (related pictures) to that level or category of activation, then at each level there are possible, appropriate resources and responses from which we can choose. When we need a response we do not search the entire library; we scan the books at the appropriate level of activation.
For example, in an ideal adaptive response to a life-threatening event, the nervous system searches for related significant images and possible responses at an appropriate level of activation and context. It then makes a selection and acts accordingly. It searches, selects, then acts. This threat-arousal sequence has to include an active response or it becomes frozen and doesn't complete.
A maladaptive response to a life-threatening event never completes itself. An example of this is when the nervous system unceasingly and unsuccessfully searches for appropriate responses. As it fails to find this critical information, the emotions of rage, terror, and helplessness escalate. This escalation spurs further activation and compels the search for significant images. Since the images it finds are associated with traumatic emotions, the images themselves may evoke further activation without supplying the appropriate
response to complete the process. In turn, further escalated arousal provokes a more frantic search for any significant image. The result is a continuing and ever-escalating spiral in which we search for images stored on our bookshelves. As our emotions escalate, we become more desperate to find the appropriate response to our situation and begin to indiscriminately select any image or "memory." All of the images selected are related to highly aroused, similar emotional states, but are not necessarily useful to our survival at that moment. They are the fuel of the "trauma vortex."
Any emotional activation coupled with an image generates an experience of memory. When a person, in desperation, selects images associated with a similar emotional tone even though they may be dissimilar in content, a "memory" is created. This memory is often accepted as the absolute truth of what happened. Be-cause of the high level 6§2
emotion attached to this experience, the traumatized person believes it to be truth. What if a person reaches this high emotional level during a therapy session? Any suggestion or leading question by the therapist will almost certainly be incorporated into this escalating, narrowing version of an experience. The person will begin to accept this version as the absolute truth, and will tenaciously cling to that emotional truth. Memories need to be understood, both from relative and absolute perspectives.
When we don't become invested in finding a literal truth, we remain free to experience the full and compassionate healing afforded by the rhythmic exchange between the trauma and healing vortices that occur in renegotiation. When we allow ourselves to create a "memory" that is not necessarily literal, as did Margaret, Marius and many others, we give ourselves permission to heal. While we don't have a literal, emotionally bound conviction of "the truth," we do gain a compassionate perspective for our own vitality, strength and resourcefulness. Often, we get a sense of what may have happened to us in the past. It is prudent that we hold our "memories" in perspective, and not feel compelled to accept them as the literal truth. We can accept these historical ambiguities as a melding of experiences.
Remember, most memory is not a coherent and continuous record of something that actually happened. It is a process of assembling elements of our experience into a coherent, organized whole. In addition, we often separate the elements of a traumatizing experience into fragments in order to de-intensify the emotions and sensations. Consequently, only fragments of a remembered traumatic event are likely to be entirely accurate. In general, a complete "memory" of a traumatic experience is much more likely to be a compilation of elements from a variety of experiences. The elements that are drawn to this "melting pot" can originate in the actual experiences that people have had, and/or in experiences they had while reading books or newspapers, hearing stories, dreaming, watching a movie, talking with a friend (or a therapist), etc. In short, any type
of sensory or informational input that has a similar emotional or feeling tone may be summoned to produce "the memory." As far as the organism is concerned, all these elements of experience are equivalent if they carry a similar type of arousal and
emotional impact. 1 6 :
What the felt sense is trying to communicate is "This is how I feel." However, because the state of arousal activates an intense searching response, the person experiencing the arousal is predisposed (correctly or incorrectly) to interpret any such information as the "cause" of the activation-in other words, as the actual memory of the event. Because the emotions that accompany trauma are so intense, the so-called memory can seem more real than life itself. In addition, if there are pressures from group members or therapists, books, or other mass media, individuals experiencing emotional distress search for the cause of their distress and are susceptible to these types of invented memories. This is how so-called false memories can be produced.
Unfortunately, many therapists employ intense emotional release techniques to work with traumatic (or other) symptoms. It is just this type of emotional pushing that can activate states of high arousal. When this happens, we see the appearance of powerful experiential collages that are perceived (to the degree of their intensity) to be "true" memories. It is not important whether memories are objectively accurate. Of prime importance is whether the associated activation escalates or resolves. It is essential that the unresolved activation locked in the nervous system be discharged. This transformation has nothing to do with memory. It has to do with the process of completing our survival instincts.
Some people find it difficult to accept the idea that memory isn't a continuous record of reality. It is a disconcerting thought. The memories we have about where we have been and what we have done contribute greatly to our conscious and unconscious ideas about who we are. Memories are regarded by many as a treasured possession, even if they are not consciously recognized as a basis for one's very identity.
When we perceive memory as a "mixed bag" of information, images, and responses, we open the door to freedom. A fixed memory of literally recorded events often limits and confines us. In a sense, when we cling strongly to the concrete version of memory we are re-stricted to doing what we have always done in relation to it. The dilemma is that unresolved trauma forces us to repeat what we have done before. New and creative assemblages of possibilities will not easily occur to us. The key to transforming trauma is
to move slowly in the direction of flexibility and spontaneity. 1 6 <
When we are traumatized, there is an eventual disruption in the way that we process information. The organism becomes disorganized and loses much of its fluidity and normal capacity to categorize information. The normal, self-organizing function of the organism has to be re-established. If we feel inclined to focus on memories (even if they
are basically accurate), it is important to understand that this choice will impair our ability to move out of our traumatic reactions. Transformation requires change. One of the things that must change is the relationship that we have with our "memories."