I set four alarms each night before I go to sleep, two on my phone and 2 on my clock. My rationale is that I need to be prepared for the two worst case scenarios; failure of the device and failure to wake up. In case my phone dies, I have a backup device and in case my phone dies AND I sleep through the first alarm, that second alarm is sure to wake me up. One would think that my over-preparedness would be a comfort and allow me to rest easy, but I find myself waking up in the middle of the night and checking my alarms. Sometimes I go as far as to set all the alarms to the current time to make sure they work, reset them to the intended time, and put my phone down only to pick it up seconds later to make sure I changed the time back properly and that it matched the clock. This ritual developed after I failed to wake up on time for a test in high school. It has not happened since, and in my rational mind I know that it probably won’t again, but this does nothing to break my clock habit.

I also have an unfailing routine of jiggling the doorknob after locking due to quite an embarrassing childhood incident involving a bathroom with a betraying door. When confronted with the doorknob that unlocks with a twist, I choose to “hold it” no matter the circumstances because there is no way to assess the integrity of the lock!

My family members and roommates don’t understand my fears and have often labeled me as overly-cautious and anxious. When we discussed anxiety disorders in class, we learned that they include all disorders in which the most dominant symptom is excessive or unrealistic anxiety. Aside from isolated incidents, I do not have a habit of oversleeping or reoccurrences of the certain bathroom disaster I remain so terrified of. My almost ridiculous routines might be seen as excessive measures against unrealistic possibilities. Although my practices seem to fit into the definition of an anxiety disorder, it is important to remember that my slightly abnormal behavior does not become a disorder until it causes me distress, harm to myself or others, or harms my ability to function in everyday life. Everyone has similar quirks to mine in varying degrees in their lives. Apart from the inconvenience of managing four alarm clocks and the hatred radiating from my roommates every morning, my habits do not indicate that I have an anxiety disorder.

During a summer internship in Bangalore, India, my fellow interns and I were able to visit a shelter for women that had been rescued from the sex trade. Although we had been briefed prior to our visit, we were overwhelmed by the experience. We met women and girls of all ages, some in their sixties and others just twelve. All of the women had been exposed to unimaginable cruelty and displayed a variety of resulting disorders. It became easy to distinguish which of the women had been at the shelter longer and which were only recently brought in. Many of them interacted with us quite normally, as a new friendly acquaintance would. They asked us questions about the United States and school and happily answered similar questions about the college/trade school they were attending. They showed us the crafts they were working on and were overall engaging. It was plain to see that they were successfully undergoing therapy and on their way to recovery. We observed that some women had trouble being still. When they noticed our presence, they became anxious and nervous, looked worried, and started whispering to their directors. It is completely understandable that they be uncomfortable around strangers after the ordeal they went through. As it explains in our textbook, this is an example of magnification, the tendency to interpret situations as far more dangerous than they actually are. The women who displayed symptoms of magnification had terrible experiences with strangers in the past and concluded that we too were harmful. One of the directors explained to us that many of the women were prone to panic attacks, sudden onsets of panic in which multiple physical symptoms of stress occur, and that their anxiety manifested in several phobias. Some of the women were afraid of physical contact, of darkness (Nyctophobia), and to leave the shelter or even the room they were in (agoraphobia). A few of the recent arrivals appeared even too scared to verbalize their fears. They remained in the corner of the room with their knees drawn up and arms wrapped around. They were unable to interact with most people or maintain eye contact.

We know from what we learned in class that most of these women suffered acute stress disorder and several suffer post traumatic stress disorder. Since a great number of the women were experiencing symptoms of ASD long after they had been removed to the shelter, they were classified as having PTSD. Both ASD and PTSD are borne of a major stressor, in this case the sex trade. Both disorders have symptoms of anxiety, dissociation, recurring nightmares, sleep disturbances, problems with concentration, and flashbacks. We could make out that some had been undergoing therapy longer than others by how they interacted with us and it was hopeful to see that despite the horrors these women experienced, they could be somewhat healed through therapy.

It is difficult to remember personal events that took place before the age of three. Those claiming to recollect earlier experiences have had their memories tampered with. We see a prime example of this in an AskReddit thread about earliest memories, user /chocolaterock recalled an incident from when he/she was two years old in pre-K and another child attempted to swallow a toy and ended up “throwing up all over the floor.” The user later added to the post to say that his/her mother did not remember the incident. User /vebben’s story is even more far-fetched. He/she claims to remember being in his/her mother’s stomach, describing it as a “pitch black place, with water and a tiny waterfall”! Another poster commented to relate a similar experience, remembering kicking his mother in the ribs. /PerspicaciousLoris remembers going with his parents to get a new car and when he related the occurrence to his parents they informed him that although his description was exact, he had not even been born at the time.

All these stories seem rather mystical and spooky, and the fact is that we have all known people who adamantly maintain that they have such recollections. It is just as possible, however, that a person could have convinced himself these events took place when he overheard parts of a conversation in which his mother was talking about a painful pregnancy with a kicking baby or his father reminiscing about the first time he drove the old family car.

People cannot remember the first two to three years of life due to infantile amnesia and during this time all their memories are implicit.

When I was a child, I took full advantage of having a younger sister. I realized quite early on that she was extremely impressionable and that she looked up to me, as most younger siblings do their older sisters. One summer afternoon when my sister and I were bored, we decided to raid the fridge. In this process, I knocked over a large container and spilled rice all over the floor. My mom rushed in and was understandably angry. She demanded to know who had made the mess and without missing a beat, I pointed to my three-year-old sister. I still remember the look of desperation and fear in her eyes as she saw my finger directed at her. My mother asked her if she was the one who knocked the rice over and she nodded, convinced that if I had said so it must have been her fault. After my mom yelled at her for a while and told her she would be punished later, I walked over to her and patted her on the shoulder as if to say, “it’s ok, it happens to all of us.” I had forgotten about the incident till very recently, when it was brought up at a family gathering. My sister was the one to recall the incident, she said, “Remember that time I knocked over a huge bowl of rice and mummy yelled at me?” I was shocked that I had managed to manipulate her memories so successfully. Although I didn’t tell her what really happened, I will always feel a bit guilty about it.

Source: Reddit: AskReddit: “What is your earliest memory?” http://www.reddit.com/r/AskReddit/comments/19yvpr/what_is_your_earliest_memory/