I was talking yesterday about how bad my memory has become since my medical crisis. And how relieved I was that I had actually been right about my passport being au courant. I am mad at myself, though, that I did not get the Real ID when I had to renew my driver’s license last (that was April 2024) because now I have to make a separate trip to do it.
My passport can stand in for the Real ID, but it’s not something I would want to take on a domestic flight. I would worry about it all the time and not be able to truly relax. I don’t want to go to the DMV, though, because I had to wait two hours to get my license renewed the last time I went.
I said in the last post that losing my good memory was a small price to pay for being alive. I also said I was frustrated and mad at myself for not being able to remember where my passport was. Both of these things are true, even though they seem contradictory. There is very little that isn’t worth giving up in exchange for life, is there? But, sometimes, I do remember how good my memory was before my medical crisis–and it was really fucking good.
I have adapted to my memory being shit now (and, frankly, it can be useful to trot out as an excuse when I forget something), but I have to admit it’s in a jagged way. I make notes in my calendar (on my phone) when I need to do something, but I still rely too much on my worn-out memory because I think I *should* be remember everything.
On Friday past, Rory and Gav of RKG were doing the third producer’s stream (the tier on Patreon I’m subscribed to) of Split Fiction (Hazelight Studios) at 11 a.m. my time. I knew about it, and I had it in my brain all week long that I wanted to watch the stream. I will say that my sleep has been exceptionally bad this week, and I have been struggling to get enough sleep and to get to bed before five in the morning.
I got up at noon and went about my ‘morning’ routine–2 hours of Taiji/Bagua. When I got to my computer and checked in with the Discord, it was right around 3 p.m. And I noticed there were new messages in tthe producer livestream channel. Scrolling through it, I quickly realized I had just missed the Rory/Gav stream.
I was mad. I had mentally made a note and kept it in my mind for a whole week. And then, just like that, it flew right out of my mind right before it actually happened. It was as if it had never been there, too. I didn’t have any uneasy feeling Friday morning that I was missing something; indeed, I was oblivious to the fact that it was the day for the stream.
I think that’s the thing that bothers me the most. It’s not that my memory is spotty. It’s not that I used to have a good memory. It’s that things can go clean out of my head at the slight (or no) provocation as if they were never there in the first part.
Another example. I have a private lesson with my Taiji/Bagua teacher every other Thursday at 2 p.m. I have never had an issue remembering that. But one Thursday, I completely forgot it. And I did not notice any of the messages my teacher sent me (on my landline phone, on my cell phone, and emails). I heard someone pounding on the door and went to go peek. It was my teacher, looking frantic and scared. I quickly opened the door and profusely apologized. She said she had called my brother, so I quickly emailed him to let him know I was fine.
I didn’t blame her because the last time I did not respond to her email in a timely fashion, I was in the hospital, unconscious. I told her Iunderstood and quickly reassured her that she had done the right thing. And I scolded myself internally for being so thoughtless. I had been playing a game (can’t remember which one), and I completely lost track of time.
I made two decisions to mitigate the possibility that I would forget again. One was not not play games before my lesson. The second was to put a little post-it note on my screen. I think I might have written something on it the first time, but I didn’t need to do that afterwards. Just seeing the post-it reminded me that I had a lesson. It kept me on point, and I haven’t messed it up since.
That’s the thing about when your mind gets fucked up like mine has. I have been pretty equanimous about it, but once in a while, it does bother me a bit. I can shake it off with ease, but it’s there.
It’s strange. I can remember things clearly from decades ago, but who’s to say if what I remember is actually correct? I already knew that memory was very porous and shifting, but last night really hammered it home. Both my brother and I thought that we had put the safe in a box. First difference: we imagined different safes. My brother was correct about which safe the important things were in, but I had no recollection we even had that safe. The other smaller safe I was thinking of is the one we had at first. I have no idea when we changed to the other (but I did recognize it once I saw it), and now I have no idea where the other one is. Was that the one we put in a box? I have no idea. We certainly did not find it. Anywhere. I asked if he had taken it with him because I vaguely remembered he expressed interest in it. He said he hadn’t taken it, and was pretty insistent about it.
Which proves nothing, obviously. That’s something that I really hope I can embrace–nothing is real.