To say my memory is bad is an understatement.
I’ve always had a poor memory. Almost my entire childhood is forgotten. The older I get, the more I lose.
I admit though, sometimes things slip out of the unknown and surprise me.
I underwent a series of procedures. Electro Convulsion Therapy. ECT was a last resort. And it came with a price. Memories. When I thought of the word amnesia, I though that every day you’d wake up not knowing anything at all. Like you were just born, no memories at all.
It’s not like that. It’s worse.
Before ECT, my memory was spotty at best. Now Its like someone has come through my life and blacked out entire years. Like looking at a censored document. All the key words scrubbed out in black ink. It’s knowing you have been someone, and done somethings that have led you to where you are now. But not knowing how.
I know the gist of it, how my life has come to this point. But the details, they’re gone. I’ll never get them back. Some people I don’t even remember. They have memories of me, of us, and for me it’s like we’ve never met. It’s hardest with the people I love, and who love… or loved, me.
I was with a man, my highscool sweetheart, I only remember bits of the 12 years we were together. And what I know, and what I remember are two different things. I remember I was madly in love with him. I have memory of how I felt. I know we broke up and got back together a dozen times. But I don’t remember always why or when. I know I cheated, he cheated, we hurt each other badly. I remember the heart wrenching pain. I know we always found our way back to eachother, that we forgave the lies and hurt. I don’t remember how and when. I know what ended us. That I moved back in with my mum. I remember the hurt, the pain.
What I know, is fact. It happened. But sometimes I don’t remember it. Some of it is clear, striking, vivid. Part of it is blurry, hazy, unsure. A lot of it is just gone.
Retrograde amnesia, they call it. I can’t do anything about it. And now, i also have Anterograde amnesia, that’s what Drew Barrymore had in “50 first dates”. The inability to make new memories. It’s different for me of course. I don’t completely black out on what I did yesterday. But sometimes, parts do disappear. Usually several days later. I try to think back, but it’s gone. Ive had heated arguments, had sex, gotten into accidents. All of it, gone. I know it happened, but I don’t remember it happening.
So I write it down. You know, when I remember to. I blog how I feel, when I feel it. I say what happens and how I feel about it. Maybe one day I’ll look at it again. Maybe it will remind me.
