Friday, February 7, 2020

Sometimes I forget

My depression has been really bad lately.  I swear I will never intentionally harm myself with the intent to die, so please set that out of your mind.  But sometimes I forget things, and I'm sure it is due to my two nervous breakdowns.

If you've never had a nervous breakdown, if you've never felt yourself fragmenting until you can't understand anything you're seeing, if you've never lost the ability to understand language or even forgotten your name for a few days, then it's difficult to understand the grievousness of the pain and loss.  I was part of a spiritual study group once and I said I felt like my nervous breakdowns had damaged my soul.  Of course, everyone poo-pooed the notion, but I know I lost vast amounts of memories, and I've always felt like the soul is that-which-gathers the memories, so I really do believe it's been damaged.

I often feel like I'm a torn and tattered sheet attached to a clothesline, flapping in the wind getting more torn each day, kind of happy when it's sunny but horribly disoriented when there's a storm.  If I'm in a good mood, I can remember average things pretty well, and I've always had odd bits of knowledge popping to the surface as a lover of trivia.  But when I'm down, even a little bit, my perceptions go askew and so do my memories.  I don't think I mis-remember things; I just don't remember them at all.

Like names; I can't remember them like I used to be able to.  If I meet someone new, I'm always trying to chant their name in my mind while I'm talking to them, hoping I can remember them.  I remember at one point in my life, I estimated how many people I have probably met or had the ability to meet and came up with the number 50,000.  I know that's an overly high estimate because I'm positive I never met all 300 students in my college chemistry class, but I had the potential to meet them.  Still, I try to remember my college friends, and I can't remember but a few names.  And my sister said she was invited to her 8th grade class reunion and wanted me to go; I was appalled at the notion that anyone remembers who they went to grade school with, because that knowledge went out the window well before my first nervous breakdown!

Sometimes, though, I forget the strangest stuff.  I enjoy being alone at home, avoiding the phone spammers and reading or writing books.  And then sometimes I wonder, why am I avoiding people?  Who can I talk to?  Why hasn't anyone called me lately?  And it takes me some time to remember that I'm solitary by choice!

Or everyday appointments and such.  I will have to write down an appointment in a couple of notebooks as well as leaving myself a reminder in my calendar, as well as leaving emails in my 'most important' category at the top of the page, just so I can see them every day.  I have only two routines, and even then I'll check the computer for what day it is, or I'll stand in the kitchen wondering if I've fed the puppy breakfast yet.

So I go about my day trying to avoid situations in which I'll have to remember anything.  I have begun picking up guitar, but it's taken me months of practicing a few times a week to remember just my warm-up exercises.  I've also begun studying Russian on my own, which I'm sure isn't the most efficient way to learn it, but it's taken me months just to get a few basics down pat.  I'm sure any native speaker listening to me sound out written words would probably wonder if I can even remember the sounds of the letters, but keeping track of all the pronunciation rules is trying in and of itself.

I think the thing I most wish I could remember is how much I care about people.  But when I'm in a situation with them (like at holidays or whatever), I will talk about myself and forget to ask how they are doing, and then I'll be driving home wondering how their lives are going.  I really don't mean to be so self-conscious (or selfish if you're being uncharitable), but I really do forget because I'm always internally rambling to myself about what's been wrong with me lately, which is about the only thing I can remember, and even then I don't remember half the time!

But that's the nature of depression.  You forget there's anything beyond the bleakness.  You forget how to laugh.  You forget the larger picture, that anything of note is happening in the world.  Or, you forget how to tie your shoes, or to check on the food you have cooking, or whether you already washed your hair in the shower.

So, please forgive me.  I don't have Alzheimer's or dementia (yet, anyway), but my depression is enough to make me feel like I'm about a hundred years old, having lost my energy and my will to live and my previous interests and my memories.  You don't know how much of a loser you feel until you sit in front of your work-in-progress and wonder why you ever thought the subject matter was important.  I feel so stupid, so often, and grieve the loss of my brain-power.

And, please, pray for me.  I'm up for prayers and benevolent thoughts, anyway I can get them.  I'd like to think that someday I'll soak in so many well-wishes that they'll repair the gaping holes in my memories, but I'll settle for filling up the holes to make new memories.

Namaste.