REMEMBERING OR IMAGINING? Pts. 1-2

I was watching a remake of “Anne of Green Gables” tonight; (though the current title of the continuing Netflex series is “Anne With an E”).

If you’re familiar with the novel, the original movie, or the Netflex series, (or even if you’re not) Anne is a Canadian orphan who is “farmed out” to a husband and wife with several children, and who virtually make her their slave, overwork her, and treat her despicably. Ultimately, she is returned to the orphanage, and from there, she is placed with a bachelor brother and matronly sister who own a farm on Prince Edward Island.

And given her troubled childhood, including physical, emotional, and possibly sexual abuse, it becomes all too obvious that Anne contends with her own “personal demons.” At one point in the first segment of this excellent production, Anne makes the statement,

“I’d rather imagine than remember.”

It simply hurts too much to remember. And for the counselors and other ‘clued-in’ lay people among us, we immediately understand that Anne’s inability or unwillingness, as the case may be, to dwell on the past represents a defensive mechanism. Several other defensive mechanisms by which Anne deals with her traumatic memories are an unwillingness to invest much hope in any new environment that it might not become permanent in nature, the presence of an imaginary friend, and a tendency to verbally remind herself of a quotation from the Victorian era volume, “Jane Eyre.”

“If all the world hated you and believed you wicked, while your own conscience approved of you and absolved you from guilt, you would not be without friends.”

Pt. 2

Speaking of Anne Shirley’s initial quotation in which she says, “I’d rather imagine than remember,” there’s a similar quotation in the movie, “The Silence of the Lambs,” in which the incarcerated murderer (and cannibal) named ‘Hannibal’ reflects,

“I want a window and I want a view.”

Having seen this macabre movie several times, I can tell you that Hannibal Lecter is the permanent resident of a cell reminiscent of an animal cage in a zoo. The cell is entirely enclosed inside a building, has no window, he is never allowed to leave it, and he finds himself stuck in there with nothing but the horrendous memories of his own making.

What he wants is a window and a view, and the wherewithal to see what he is missing, but will never see again. He wants to see with his eyes, and imagine something better than his past, and something which will give him the wherewithal to transcend his present.

And who can blame either Anne or Hannibal?

There is in the spirit of a man, (speaking collectively of both genders) a desire to avoid the reliving the past; when because of past trials, turmoil, trouble and trauma, our pasts are closer to still being present than past. Professionally as a counselor, and personally as a human being, I am all too aware of this fact.

I think some therapists are a bit cynical about defensive mechanisms. They would prefer their clients find a way to “rise to the fore,” and overcome those defensive mechanisms by which coping becomes possible when those traumatic triggers raise their ugly heads; as if, like God, we had been blessed with what I refer to as a “forgetter mechanism.” 

(I, as a Marriage and Family Counselor, however, see no harm, and possible good in practicing coping skills which have always served them well during such times; as long as they are not destructive, nor tend to call undue attention to the individual practicing such defensive mechanisms).

But when it comes to forgiveness, we can and must begin.

And if there is any semblance of forgetting, it must begin with forgiving, and forgiving must begin with the intent and with the words; and our emotions may or may never catch up.

Afterward

I think Anne Shirley’s notion of imagining, rather than remembering, and Hannibal’s desire for a window, and a view must, ultimately, superimpose itself upon the trials, turmoil, trouble, and trauma of our respective pasts.

We are all too close to remaining in that proverbial body bag of which I once wrote, and in which we never were meant to remain.

I love the Book of Philippians. It is, among the sixty-six books of the holy scripture, my favorite of all books.

And I especially like a passage in the third chapter.

“I do not imply that I have arrived. I am still learning, changing and maturing. But I consider the day when I finally reach the prize, the goal, the finish line.

No, my brethren, I am not all that I should be, nor what I will be, but I bring all my energies to bear on this one thing. I forget the past, and gaze with jealous eyes towards the future Christ has for me. I strain to reach the finish line, and receive the reward bestowed on those who are called 'Faithful.'" (Phil. 3:12-14, McDonald Paraphrase of the New Testament)


By William McDonald, PhD. Excerpt from (Mc)Donald's Daily Diary, Vol. 81, Copyright pending

If you wish to copy, share or save this blog, please include the credit line, above