Monday, August 29, 2016

Memory, or Why Bee Is This Way Sometimes

I have thought about writing this for a long time.  Thought about just telling people about this for an even longer time--and now I feel like I almost have to do it.  So here goes.
*deep breath*
Hi, I'm Bee (or Amy if you know me from work for from my youth) and I have trauma-based memory issues.
So--hi again.  (That is a joke, see?)

In my mid-twenties I sustained a rather serious head trauma which neither my doctors nor I realized was terribly serious right at the time.  We were pretty wrong about that, as it turns out.
I have some kind of serious memory problems, as you may have noticed, or maybe not.

There are two basic ways I have issues with memory--one is likely more apparent to most people, my inability to process linear time, and the second my random (though not consistent and not constant) short term memory processing issues.

The time sense issue is pretty straight forward--I just have no concept of the passage of time.  If you ask me how long ago something happened, I honestly have zero idea.  Could have been last week, could have been 8 years ago it is the same to me.  How long was I married?  5 years?  13?  I truthfully do not know.  And no immediate sense of the passage of time.  How long have I been in line at Target?  3 minutes? an hour?  I cannot tell the difference.   Now--lest you think I am a complete flake--I have pretty well developed ways of keeping track of these kinds of things externally so I can say, fill out a resume or an application for somewhere to live.  In those cases I have my (rather large) database of such things.  It is basically the catalogue of my life--jobs, homes, relationships, friendships, car maintenance--anything which could possibly have a date attached to it is listed.  If it weren't I would have absolutely no idea where to begin.  The only things I can remember with a fair deal of precision are things which occurred before the head injury--so prior to 1994.

I know this sounds weird, and I can imagine it is kind of hard to understand what it feels like.  The best way I can explain it is this.  You know that feeling when you hear a song and you just can't quite remember who sings it?  You KNOW you have this information, you KNOW you have heard the name but it is tantalizingly out of reach.  The harder you think, the blanker your mind gets about that issue.  That is me basically any time something involving a date or time is involved.  How old are my nephews?  When did my mother die?  How long have I lived in this house?  When is anyone's birthday?  No clue.  None whatsoever.  

This particular issue is the reason I am writing this now.  This year will be my 30-year high school reunion.  At this event there will be people I haven't seen in--wait, I know this one!--30 years.  They will of course be asking the kinds of questions one asks long-lost acquaintances.  And I won't have the answers.  I hate this, more than the other annoying parts about the memory issues, I hate that feeling.  The feeling that I am a poor historian of my own life.  And I unfortunately know this to be true as well--it seems like I'm a horrible (and bad) liar.  If you ask me twice in rapid succession a time-related question, you'll probably get two different answers.  And both times I'll be making my very best guess.  

There are so many people in my life--important people to me--that don't know about this, I've never told them.   Why?  Well--it is embarrassing, and people look at you very differently.  Also, they talk louder, which I find weird.  I can hear you just fine...just don't ask me what you said right away after if I'm stressed.

Which leads to the other annoying thing--the random short term memory processing issues. These aren't constant nor consistent.  They are worse when I'm stressed out or overly excitable.   I have trouble with basic spatial memory most of the time.  I have to leave my keys, phone, glasses in the EXACT same place every single time or they are lost to me forever.  Truly, if I go to look for my keys and they aren't in the right place, for all I know I chucked them in the sewer.  I have no idea.  If we have a conversation (particularly an intense or emotional one) and you ask me about it 2 hours later, my memory of it will be vague at best.  Give me 24 hours and it will be better.

This is why I'm good at lists--and given my job I have to be.  A huge part of my job relies heavily on short-term memory--and when I am stressed, mine goes out the window.  Again, I have a very well-developed series of coping mechanisms that you probably never noticed.   All those selfies I take?  Sometimes they aren't just because I'm so cute, sometimes they are to help me remember what day I was at which event and who was there.   If you scrolled through my phone you'd see lots and lots of photos of my car.  Now--I love Ruby, she has been a great car to me, but those aren't because I love her so.  They are there to help me remember where I parked.  If it isn't at my house or assigned parking at work, I can't remember where on earth I left her.  Believe me, if you are riding with me I am COUNTING on you to remember because I know that I absolutely will not.  Ditto my horrible sense of direction.  If I haven't gone somewhere enough times for it to become basic muscle memory, there is a good chance I can't remember how to get there.  It is why I SUCKED at tanking in WoW, and sometimes sucked at healing.  Sure I may have run this instance 50 times, but in some sense it is Groundhog Day for me, every time.

So hey, classmates.  If you are reading this know that I might seem a little weird (okay, weirder than you even remember, which is saying something I know), and a little sketchy about details in my life, but I am genuinely glad to see you and excited to learn about what has been going on in your life.
Everyone else, I hope this explains maybe a few of my oddities--I mean, it doesn't explain my hatred of Nickelback, but does that need explaining?    And I hope that it might start some conversations about memory issues and how they can affect us all--even we younger-ish-kinda and normal-ish seeming folks.  We are all aging, and some of our parents are having memory issues--but talking about them is the right thing to do.  Believe me.
Peace to you,  Bee.

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