A memory was returned to me recently. I remembered being in my old bedroom that I shared with my sister in my grandmother's house. I can see the entire room, how it looked, my stuffed toys arranged about me in the bed, my sister's side with her one doll (and later nothing) and giggling and whispering with her at night. My mother would call up to us to settle down, go to sleep and finally she would come upstairs to get us calmed down.
The most interesting part of this memory is how different it is from my later memories. There's no outright terror attached. The memory feels attached to my life, it doesn't have any real emotional pull to it. My later memories of my mother, heavily climbing the stairs feel as though evil itself was coming for my soul. My heart would pound in trepidation as she got closer and closer to me.
These later memories were held by one or more of my alters; the early memory - by my core self.