Why Cherish a Haunting Past?

The nature of one's heart is so mysterious. We love unconditionally family, friends, and lovers when we are surrounded by them and while we are away from them. We have comfort that when the people we love fade in death they are illuminated by remembrance, that in hindsight they are alive in past memories. In times that prove difficult, we calm ourselves down by remembering a happy and funny time in our lives and our hearts thrive in its colors, outstriding present stress. I admit I fall victim to this ritual and sometimes days pass me by while I stand still in one spot. Why is it that the past is so emotionally controlling? We dwell on happy memories to forget that we are living now and capable of doing something new to better our self, our situation, and our lifestyles. In consequence of this behavior, with happy memories come sad memories. Memories so hurtful, a lost love, an abusive parent, that it is etched on our minds, tugging hard at our hearts, hindering us from ever overcoming its influence.
Jeanette Winterson in Arts and Lies creates a "medical parallel" to these such abusive behaviors: "...those who lose a limb, either through accident or amputation, continue to feel pain in the non-existant part. Some claim their vanished arm is still hanging by their side." (pg. 44) Is this what the past condemns us to? Memories inflict upon us still a sense that it still lives and is still attached to us, when in reality there is nothing there. How can we still feel pain from a past lover that no longer is there to hurt us? From a father who no longer beats us? It is silly to depend so wholly on the past when it has no real substance to support us--and let alone guide us! We have spent too long looking down in tearful remembrances and looking up in happy recollections and not seeing the world as it presents itself in every moment. "We were happy"...."Remember when you used to do this?"...."I can never forgive men because this one time at school...."
What about now? Why use a false limb of air to drink that special hot chocolate mom used to make, when you can use the other limb still attached to pick up a steaming cup of the tea that sits in front of you? Winterson uses the imagery of a city being built, by it reusing materials to build greater buildings--can we do that with memories? If we could create a recycling system of memories, we could create a home from its materials. While living we have to comfort of them surrounding us, sheltering us from the cold heartless night. They would not be used as a false limb, constantly reminding us of what we don't have anymore, but rather a foundation to live life looking straight ahead.