R is for Recollect

I was making small talk with a coworker who happened to mention that she loved puppets. WHAM! I had completely forgotten a HUGE part of my childhood. My father made a huge, elaborate puppet theater for me, along with a plethora of puppets that were made of foam, had those huge, spinning eyes, and sticks with a complicated spring-contraption that moved their mouths. I think there was some way to move their arms, too, but I don't recollect if that is true or not. Either way, the whole thing was pretty fancy.
                                      
Why did I block this out? Was it traumatic? Is the puppet show and all of its demands for appreciation connected to hidden traumas? Is that memory attached to something dark and hidden for my own safety? Or is it just something I didn't care about, so let slip from my mind? Now that I am thinking about it, I do know that I never liked the puppet show. There was too much pressure to love it; there was too much pressure to embrace it as a love I owned, rather than one that was forced upon me. I put on my own show behind the theater. I pretended to love it. I had to.
                                    
I'm disturbed. I'm torn between wanting to figure out why I blocked this from my mind and wanting to leave bad memories lying dormant. But are they even bad memories? I don't know. I know that I found one of the records on YouTube that we used to play, and listening to it raised my anxiety level by about a million.
                        

Of course, I will talk to my therapist about this. And hope that she thinks it isn't important. I don't need any more bad memories. Thanks, anyway.