"...but so many good things happened to you!"

Why is it that we remember good memories less than bad ones? In my project I am looking for the answer to this through archive family photographs which I appear in or I have taken in the past, and which I have good memories of, but I forgot them over time. Without looking at photos, it's like there are only pixels in the place of memories. However, I can clearly recall to this day that, for example, what nightmares I had for many years as a child after an unprocessed trauma. After all I remember, that there were many good things in my life, but the memories of them are very fragmented. When my mom brought me our family photographs one summer, she said: she doesn't quite understand why I'm so anxious, why I'm depressed, when so many good things happened to me. I work with these images in my project. While I cut, fold, and weave them, not only manual but also mental and spiritual work is going on. I realize more and more that there is no such thing as a pure, happy memory taken by itself. The longer I have a photograph in my hands and I work with it, the more the future of the moment captured in the image shatters. Because I already know it’s past. The impressions of happy moments, which are pixelated in my memories, but clear when recalled, are destroyed again by negative memories. These are doubly fragmented memories.