Wednesday, March 09, 2011

I Won't Remember Writing This a Week from Now


I was going to post more about this memory loss issue I've been having. But now I can't remember what I was going to say about it.

Wait. Wait. It's coming back to me. I think.

I've always had an excellent memory. First in my class to learn to read. First in my class to memorize the multiplication table. First in my class to memorize the keyboard and to type at speeds exceeding 50wpm.

Beyond that, I could remember phone numbers, addresses, names of people I'd met once and their connections to other people, conversations I'd had - sometimes verbatim - years ago, fingerings and phrases from piano sonatas I learned to play in my teens, the number of steps I have to take before I hit a set of stairs to reach a count of 8 at the top (I count in series of 8...4 if I have to but preferrably 8). I still remember I met Andy on October 17, 1992. When I worked at the elementary school, some of my co-workers thought it was fun to quiz me on the names and family connections of our students...all 620 of them. To this day, I can recall many names of our students and what teachers they had, the names of their parents, where they were born.

Not too shabby for someone without the ability to visualize. I've never used a mnemonic device. Well...unless you count Roy G. Biv. And I don't. Simply because it's a mnemonic device I recall like other pieces of data in my head but not because I used it for its intended purpose. I was drawing rainbows before I knew the names of the colors.

Maybe my keen memorization skills came about because, from an early age, I exercised them playing piano.

More likely, I believe they came about because remembering stuff was, in an out of control life, something I could control. Like...maybe if I could remember every single capital of all 50 states or name all the presidents in order, I would be safe. Or, at the very least, maybe I could be detached from emotion if I could surround myself in facts.

So, the fact that I can't remember diddly squat nowadays weighs heavily on my shoulders. Things I truly want to remember...the name of that wine Diva and I had on her patio that night this summer, Lex's birthday (I think it's sometime in October), which number is Matt's landline and which is his cell, my own stinking address...are lost to me. These are things I should KNOW...right?

Maybe it's yet another symptom of perimenopause (really? I'm not even 40).

Maybe it's a symptom of B12 deficiency.

Maybe it's that I'm slowly descending into madness.

Maybe I'm just out of fucking RAM.

Or maybe...maybe...for once, I am safe and don't have to know how to multiply 7x12 in order to remain so.

Whatever it is, I'm not used to it. I'm not used to meeting someone once, twice, three times and having to ask him to remind me of his name. I'm not used to having to ask my co-worker to remind me what we're talking about. I'm not used to asking a lover what they might have said a week ago...about anything.

So I don't know if I ought to feel relieved or concerned. Right now, I'm just going with it. Subscribing to the belief that, for once, I am safe, valued, loved...and I don't have to know everything or remember anything in order to remain so.

My mind is moosh.


Diva said...

Was gonna post something....important....can't recall what it was.... *smirk*

zero hour said...

my memory loss started about 40ish... perio-memorypause I called it...
i think......