As you read this you'll know some "research" ends up in unplanned ways.
ABC’s Nick Watt Takes Part in Experiment to Alter Memory and Expunge Fear
September 2, 2011
By Staff
ABC News Reporter’s Notebook By Nick Watt
(AMSTERDAM) — “Does that hurt yet?” the lab assistant asked after administering an electric shock.
“Yes,” I replied. “But I think I can take a little more.” It was sore. But I was trying to be tough and cool.
She upped the voltage and hit the switch again. I convulsed, jumped from my chair and heard laughter from the other side of the wall. The lab assistant was laughing because my colleagues — producer Paolo and cameraman Andy — were laughing.
I was wired up for a bizarre experiment in an Amsterdam basement. Not an S&M basement, you understand, but the basement of the University of Amsterdam’s psychology department.
The lab assistant was calibrating just how much voltage I needed for the shock to be unpleasant without making me really, really sore. Why? I was playing guinea pig in an experiment.
These Dutch psychologists believe they have found a chemical way to alter our memories — specifically, to expunge fear from bad memories.
read more here
The problem is, some researchers don't understand what they are trying to "cure' us of.
Like most kids I had a lot of things I feared caused by my own mind. The monster under the bed ended up moving into the closet. That monster was killed off when I had something else to fear. My Dad. He was a violent alcoholic when I was young. He caused a lot of heartache and most of the time ended up beating my older brother when he was not just breaking things in the house. Then a strange thing happened. When my parents got along, we'd go to a drive-in movie. We'd put on our PJs, put popped corn into paper bags and Kool-aid into plastic jugs, hop into the back of the car for a night out. One night I escaped from my older brothers, headed over to the big kids play area, climbed up to the top of a towering slide and froze. It was the first time I was alone that high up. I was 4. A kid behind me got tired of waiting for me to go down. He pushed me. Instead of sliding down I went over the side. My oldest brother thought I was dead when he found me on the ground.
After that, I was afraid of heights but I was't afraid of my Dad anymore. I just didn't like him anymore. I faced death for real so whatever he could do to the rest of the family was only something to get angry about. I wasn't afraid of much after that other than heights.
The thing that got me over this and a long list of other things came naturally. Back then we didn't know about traumatic brain injury, PTSD or the long list of things that go with them. We didn't know because there weren't any psychologist to tell us. It just came naturally to my family, yes, even a dysfunctional one like mine. Things were talked to death. When there was nothing more to say, the subject was then dropped. No reason to keep talking about it when emotionally we killed it. We made peace with it and buried it as one more part of our lives that couldn't cause any more harm.
I had support from a really big family and most of the time from my parents. My Dad stopped drinking when I was 13 and he tried to make up for all the harm he did. I forgave him, my Mom did part way but both of my brothers hung onto the pain he caused.
By the time my life was on the line for a second time, I didn't really care. I was driving on 128 in Massachusetts, a notorious highway that makes I4 in Orlando look like a country road in rush hour. I was in the passing lane when traffic slowed down and a car hit me at full speed. My car was sent into a spin and I when I saw the guardrail I covered my face by crossing my arms over it. I thought my Mom would kill me if she couldn't have an open casket for the funeral. Yep, I was that much at peace with dying. The fear of heights was added to with the fear of driving. Dying wasn't the outcome I feared the most. Getting hurt was.
Life happened and more things happened but there came a day when it finally sunk in that if I'm not afraid of dying, then there was nothing to really be afraid of. We can get hurt tripping over air and landing wrong. Someone else can always hurt us by being careless. Then there is the fact we could die in our sleep but somehow manage to fall asleep every night anyway.
When I lost fear, I won over everything that tried to destroy me. I had people to talk to which was a huge plus. I had faith that if I died, I was going to show up in Heaven with a lot of explaining to do. What I also took away from all of this is none of it was from God. He gave me what I needed to get through what happened. I could still pray to Him for help in "times of trouble" knowing He wasn't the one sending the trouble in the first place. I could still cry out to Him in tears knowing He wasn't up there enjoying them. Talking things out helped because I felt safe to do it. I knew my family wouldn't stop loving me just because I told them what was going on. I had faith to hold onto knowing there were no secrets to keep from God even though I didn't tell my family everything, He knew. I am a victim of nothing but I am a survivor of circumstances beyond my control.
If researchers really want to develop something that works, they only need look as far as their local support group to find the answer.
