CRACKED SOMETHING OPEN
Memory, Metaphor, and the Courage to Break Through
Some shells protect. Others imprison. For individuals in Maryland and DC, this reflection explores how cracking open childhood memories mirrors the effort of breaking into a walnut—messy, stubborn, and ultimately nourishing.
That phrase brought to mind a picture of a small group of children in the backyard, their hands and skirts full of walnuts. Walnuts are beautiful. They have a toasty brown color with fantastic swirls and grooves. They are two perfect halves, and the edges of the halves have a raised ridge that goes all the way around the walnut. Inside, there is a beautiful, toasty brown nut that is delicious. But getting in there is a real challenge.
The shell is super thick. You cannot squeeze it and expect it to give. You cannot throw it on the sidewalk and expect it to open. You could try stomping on it, but that is not likely to be successful. Cracking this thing open is not easy. I suppose this shell is a reflection of the tree that bears it. Walnut trees can grow up to 150 feet tall. Let’s put that into perspective. We are talking 14 to 15 stories tall. That is a giant tree. Get the picture in your head of standing next to this monster. I, 5 feet tall, am more than dwarfed by this beauty. The spread of the limbs can range from 75 to 150 feet. Compare that to a football field. We are talking about a spread that spans from the one-yard line to the 50-yard line! This guy is a monster. No wonder it produces a fruit with an iron-clad shell.
However, we have to get inside of this thing. The treasure is worth the effort. We could retrieve the walnut cracker from the attic, but we’re not sure if it would work. We debate whether it is a real nutcracker or just a toy. We decided not to risk breaking Mother’s nutcracker. Off to the garage to pilfer some of Father’s tools. Hammer and chisel in hand, we are good to go. This brown little safe will soon give up its treasure.
WHACK! Yea!! The sweet meat of the walnut is our reward, and the stain on the sidewalk will surely wash away, eventually. Cracking this thing open is a triumph.
Cracking my history open is equally tricky. We carry life experiences and memories from a very early age. We have memories from the last trimester in our mother’s womb! We have memories from our day of birth forward. Yet, they can be hard to access. Our brain holds them in ways that are not easy to tap. They are in sight, sound, motion, and touch at a bare minimum. Our brains hold them, and I suppose the reason for that is that they have to. Like it or not, that folded mass of tissue under your skull holds onto everything; you might think of this organ as made of super glue. Have you ever had a tussle with super glue? That stuff is awful!! Our brains function just like that. They hold onto everything. I mean EVERYTHING!
Now, this can be a good thing. Because in early childhood, we can only think in absolutes: right/wrong, good/bad, etc. So, suppose our early experiences lead us to conclude that we are evil, mean, ugly, or numerous other negative things. In that case, we get stuck in that place and carry those negative feelings and thoughts into adolescence and adulthood. We will need help to understand how this happened and to assist our brain in making changes and bringing the truth up to date. As adults, we no longer live in absolutes. We understand gradations and nuances. That gives us the capability of experiencing grace for ourselves and others.
Cracking the childhood code (another metaphor!) of absolutes helps us to understand ourselves and give ourselves grace.
Want to explore how early memories shape emotional growth? Visit Verywell Health’s guide to repressed childhood trauma, Colorado State University’s reflections on rewriting your story, and Psychology in Action’s breakdown of trauma and memory.
If you’re reflecting on childhood experiences, emotional healing, or memory integration, therapy can help. Learn more about individual therapy in Maryland and DC or explore therapeutic approaches that support insight, resilience, and grace.
By Dr. Gloria K Vanderhorst
