One of my assignments for this class is to write an autobiography, incorporating all the aspects of children and children's development we are learning in class. It is surprisingly hard for even a talker like me to conscientiously sort through my past and account for my memories and how I think they've formed me for how I am.
It's like sorting through an attic full of stuff (you know what kind of stuff can accumulate after 30 years!), examining every thing, deciding to throw some stuff away, but in the end re-sorting it all, dusting and sweeping everything, getting rid of cobwebs and moth-eaten stuff that's ruined, and refolding and re-packing what doesn't get thrown away.
Sheesh. No wonder it's hard.