Your Brain’s a Dick About What It Remembers…Teach It to Keep the Good Shit Too
As I sit down to write this, I’m on my back deck, worn out in the best way. It’s been one of those days where everything feels like too much, and somehow just right at the same time. The kids had their last baseball games in the blazing sun. My in-laws surprised all of us this morning in the best possible way—they got to see both kids play baseball for the first time this year, and despite the chaos, if was amazing they came and got to hang out with us for the day and meet some of these great people we've become close with. And now, my two overtired, sugared-up kids are laughing their asses off, bouncing on a trampoline while a sprinkler blasts them in the face. It’s loud. It’s chaotic. It’s perfect.
I just sat there for a bit—no phone, no distractions—watching them lose their minds with joy. And I got hit with a wave of memory: whiffle ball in the rain with my brothers, bikes skidding across the wet lawn, that stupid thrill when you crank the back wheel sideways and almost wipe out but don’t. Those moments didn’t feel big at the time. But they stuck.
Last night was the WooSox game. Fireworks lit up the sky and my son stood there with his buddies, mouths open, eyes wide, pure wonder on their faces. That’s what a core memory looks like. It’s The Sandlot fireworks scene—but sticky, late, and real.
Here’s what I’ve been thinking about: core memories don’t just happen because something was fun or sweet or looked great in a photo. They happen because we fucking noticed. Because we felt it. We were all the way in.
Your brain doesn’t save moments like a scrapbook. It saves them like a bouncer—only the ones that seem important make it past the door. And what gets flagged? Whatever you gave your attention to. In the infamous words of the late Stuart Scott (RIP), your brain says, "DING DING! Winner winner, chicken dinner."
We’re quick to talk about how trauma hijacks that system—and it does. But we forget that the wiring works the other way too. Safety. Joy. Peace. They can stick, but only if we’re present enough to let them. And let’s be honest: most of us suck at that.
You don’t get core memories from multitasking or checking your watch or living with your phone screen up and ready for that perfect picture. You get them from stopping. From watching the way your kid belly-laughs or the way the sunset sneaks in behind the trees. From being in the fucking present moment.
This isn’t feel-good fluff. It’s backed by actual neuroscience. McGaugh (2004) showed that the brain fast-tracks emotionally charged moments. Fredrickson (2004) added that positive emotions help build lasting psychological resilience. Translation? The more you slow the fuck down and feel the good stuff, the more your brain learns to keep it.
So if you want to hardwire a memory:
Stop whatever else you're doing.
Notice everything — the light, the smell, the sound, the feel of it.
Let it in. All the way. Don't rush it...this means cry in joy, sing, be fucking excited and let yourself be.
Say to yourself, "Yep. This. Right here. Fucking gold star quality."
That’s your brain’s save button.
You don’t need a camera. You need your damn attention.
I chose to be present tonight. To really take it in. I hope my kids remember it one day. But even if they don’t, I will. Because I was there. And that’s enough.
And that brings me to the flip side—the part most of us don’t want to talk about, but need to. Because this exact same system that helps us save joy and awe and sprinkler-soaked laughter? It’s also the same system that burns in the pain. The fear. The fight-or-flight moments. The stuff we didn’t ask for, but can’t seem to shake.
Your Brain Is a Stubborn Bastard: Why You Keep Noticing the Same Shit That Hurt You
Let’s break this down without the psychobabble.
Focus Is Rehearsal. Rehearsal Is Memory.
The more attention you give something in the moment, the more likely you are to remember it later. Not because you're weak, overthinking, or broken — but because your brain literally learns that way.
When you're in a stressful or traumatic situation, your amygdala (that ancient little threat detector) lights up and tells your hippocampus, “Hey, we might need this information later to stay alive.” So your brain tags it, stamps it, and files it away with a giant red flag.
This isn’t a theory — it’s how memory consolidation works.
McGaugh (2004) found that emotionally arousing events — especially traumatic ones — trigger a hormonal response (think cortisol and norepinephrine) that enhances the encoding of those memories.
The more attention you give those emotionally loaded cues, the stronger and more deeply etched those memories become (Shields, Sazma, & Yonelinas, 2016).
So no, you’re not “dwelling.” Your nervous system just thinks it's doing its job.
Trauma Is a Crappy Algorithm That Keeps Showing You the Same Stuff
Ever click one depressing headline and suddenly your feed is full of doomscroll bait? Trauma works the same way. It trains your brain to focus on the bad — not just the memory itself, but anything like it.
This is the magic (read: nightmare) of Hebbian learning — neurons that fire together, wire together. Every time your brain lights up around a particular cue (a tone of voice, a hallway, a smell), it strengthens the connection. It's not just what happened. It's your brain learning to keep looking for it.
Over time, this turns into a sort of cognitive bias: your prefrontal cortex — the part of you that’s supposed to be rational and discerning — starts auto-focusing on that same shit. You’re not just reacting to past pain, you’re bracing for it. Over and over. Whether it’s happening or not.
(Pessoa & Adolphs, 2010; van der Kolk, 2014)
Reruns and the Default Mode Network: Welcome to the Loop
The more a memory gets retrieved, the easier it is to access. That’s just how recall works. Your Default Mode Network — the brain’s background thought generator — starts to favor the content you've practiced the most. So if your mind keeps circling the same handful of painful moments, it's not a personal failing. It's an over-practiced neural pathway.
Imagine your thoughts as deer trails in a forest. The more you walk one path, the clearer and more automatic it becomes. And with trauma? Those paths become highways. Six lanes. Well-lit. GPS-optimized.
Research backs this up: trauma-related overactivation of the Default Mode Network has been linked to intrusive thoughts, rumination, and emotional dysregulation (Koch et al., 2016; Whitfield-Gabrieli & Ford, 2012).
How to Actually Get Someone’s Full Attention (Without a Megaphone)
Let’s flip the script. Say something really matters. A boundary. A need. A moment you don’t want blown off. How do you make sure the other person actually registers it — not just hears it, but feels it?
Here’s what works:
Lead with meaning. If it’s important to you, say so. People respond to emotional weight.
Break the pattern. Say it in a way that gets noticed. Different tone. Different timing. Drop the usual script.
Ask for their full focus. Something like:
"Hey, I need your eyes on this for a second. It actually matters to me."
Also — if it’s someone you know well and it’s appropriate, a simple touch can ground the moment. A hand on the shoulder, a light nudge — that physical cue can snap someone into the present. That said, maybe don’t go around grabbing strangers to make a point. It’s a fast-track to jail... or at the very least, getting pepper-sprayed and talked about in a group chat you’ll never see.
And if all else fails? Make it weird. Make it funny. One of the best teaching tools I ever found for coaching was when I taught a bunch of kids how to field a ground ball by telling them it’s just like sitting on the toilet — wide base, butt down, hands out front. Every single one of them cracked up. But guess what? Every single one of them remembers it. Because it broke the pattern. It made the moment stick.
That’s what we’re after: moments that stick.
Attention is the doorway to memory. No attention? No imprint. So if it matters, don’t toss it into the void and hope it sticks. Make it land — however you need to.
-Matt
References:
McGaugh, J. L. (2004). The amygdala modulates the consolidation of memories of emotionally arousing experiences. Annual Review of Neuroscience, 27, 1–28.
Pessoa, L., & Adolphs, R. (2010). Emotion processing and the amygdala. Nature Reviews Neuroscience, 11(11), 773–783.
Shields, G. S., Sazma, M. A., & Yonelinas, A. P. (2016). The effects of acute stress on core executive functions: A meta-analysis. Neuroscience & Biobehavioral Reviews, 68, 651–668.
Fredrickson, B. L. (2004). The broaden-and-build theory of positive emotions. Philosophical Transactions of the Royal Society B: Biological Sciences, 359(1449), 1367–1377.
Garland, E. L., Fredrickson, B. L., Kring, A. M., Johnson, D. P., Meyer, P. S., & Penn, D. L. (2010). Upward spirals of positive emotions counter downward spirals of negativity. Clinical Psychology Review, 30(7), 849–864.
Whitfield-Gabrieli, S., & Ford, J. M. (2012). Default mode network activity in psychopathology. Annual Review of Clinical Psychology, 8, 49–76.
Koch, S. B. J., et al. (2016). Aberrant resting-state brain activity in PTSD. Depression and Anxiety, 33(7), 592–605.
van der Kolk, B. (2014). The Body Keeps the Score. Viking.