We change our memories each time we recall them, but that doesn’t mean we’re lying

We all turn our lives into stories. It is a defining characteristic of our species. We retell our experiences. We quickly learn what parts are interesting to our listeners and what parts lag, and we shape our narratives accordingly. It doesn’t mean that we aren’t telling the truth; we’ve simply learned which parts to leave out. Every time we tell t

But there are two problems. First, the brain is imperfect. We mistake things we see and hear. We forget things or misinterpret events quite easily. Second, once we create meaning for ourselves, our brains are designed to hold on to that meaning. We are biased toward the meaning our mind has made, and we don’t want to let go of it. Even if we see ev

All of this research shows that we are the great masterworks of our own storytelling minds—figments of our own imaginations. We think of ourselves as very stable and real. But our memories constrain our self-creation less than we think, and they are constantly being distorted by our hopes and dreams. Until the day we die, we are living the story of

As time passed, the details of what they remembered morphed. And not just a little bit. Hirst found on average “a 60% decline in memory consistency. Meaning 60% of the answers changed over time.”

• “It’s well known that telling and retelling one’s past leads to changes, smoothings, enhancements, shifts away from the facts ( ‘reconsolidation’ ) ... isn’t just a charged psychological foible. It turns out to be an inevitable neurophysiological consequence of the process of laying down memories that every studied conscious recall of past events b

Our sense of who we are depends, in significant part, on our memories. And yet they’re not to be trusted.