Tag Archives: memories

Fickle Memory for a Fickle Brain

My mind is a slippery slope. It has always been this way. The more emotional my memory, the slippier it is. Growing up in a dysfunctional family where emotions ran high and negative feelings were the norm has had a serious impact on my ability to remember just how bad things were back then. My brain has done a wonderfully effective job of blocking the negativity. I know things were bad; I know things weren’t right. But I’ll be damned if I know who, what, where, and why. I grasp onto to the stories family members have told me like a drowning women hangs onto a life preserver. I cling to the memories others have because without them I am at a loss. My childhood resembles the Dark Ages of Europe – empty space where we know life was lived but not how. On the one hand, I am blessed to only remember the happy times growing up. However, I can feel those empty spaces sucking away at me like a black hole. Just because I cannot remember first hand what happened doesn’t make the damage any less severe. I live with the repercussions of events I can’t remember. Is this healthier for me? Is it best to keep those things buried in my subconscious? Every time I try to pull those fragments of my childhood to the surface, my mental state suffers. My hold on sanity quivers until it threatens to snap. My new family, the one I married into, does not like it when this happens. And who can blame them? It is not a fun experience to watch a loved one grapple with deep-seeded pain, with their always fragile hold on normalcy.

On the flip side, my brain has compensated for this memory loss by sharpening my capacity to remember the non-emotional side of life – a.k.a., data. Raw data gleamed from books and lectures and seminars. It made school easier for me since I had all that extra space in my consciousness. I excelled at the acquisition of data. It was my thing. It made research (a passionate hobby of mine) that much easier to pursue. But now that chapter of my life is over. My illnesses have stolen yet another piece of my life from me. My memory has disintegrated before my very eyes. Brain fog (yes, it is a real, biological event) has stolen my ability to move data with ease from short-term storage to long-term storage. My ability to retrieve data from long-term storage has failed me too. It makes remembering appointments and to do’s difficult. If I don’t leave written reminders around me everywhere, I lose track of them. They slip into the gaping holes that exist in my brain. And just forget about my formerly large vocabulary and eerily precise ability to spell the most difficult of words. Those are climbing out the window one megabyte at a time. That tip-of-the-tongue feeling we all get occasionally is a daily experience for me. I know I know something, yet I can’t recall it. It isn’t dementia; it is the tortuous reality of brain fog.

Today’s rant was inspired by a missed lunch date an hour’s drive away from home with a sister I only see once per year because she lives in the south and I live in the north. It was a lunch date with my Babcie (grandmother in Polish) to celebrate her 95th birthday. I really don’t think normal people forget important dates like this one. It is no wonder that I feel like I am losing my mind…