I’m realizing, more and more, how many things I just plain forget. I was talking to someone yesterday who was angry over me being concerned about them getting words turned around and facts confused — they said that they have been doing much better with regard to that, and they don’t do it nearly as much now, as they used to.
I said I was just concerned, and they said I didn’t need to be, because they’ve been improving… but I wouldn’t know that, because there are lots of things I forget. They said I was in no position to comment, when I couldn’t remember the past well enough to compare it to the present.
I think my memory has been slipping… and in fact, it’s aways been a bit spotty. There are vast chunks of time in my childhood that I cannot recall. My parents have talked many, many times about people and events that I cannot for the life of me recall. In fact, when she starts telling me about people or places or things she thinks I should remember, my mother usually asks me straight off, if I recall such-and-such or so-and-so.
I often have to say “No, I don’t remember.”
Does it dramatically impact my quality of life? I’m not sure. Certainly, when I forget where I put library books and I rack up fines, that doesn’t help. But my fines help support the library, in however small a way. When I misplace my USB memory stick that has important files on it — I literally lose my memory twice 😉 — it’s not much fun. And when I forget to mail things that need to go out in the mail that day, it can cause problems. But none of these things are earth-shattering, and I can usually work around them.
And use tools. Like keeping a notebook with me to write things down that I need to do, in the order I need to do them. Like using my calendar at work and color-coding my activities, so I have a context and an understanding of what I’m supposed to do. Like asking for help when I need it, without feeling self-conscious and stupid. Like developing the habit of putting things back in the same place, every single time.
In a way, my habits and lists make me even more functional than some people I know, who just assume that their memories will work. I don’t lose my glasses or my gloves or my wallet or my car keys, because I’m so strict with myself about always (and I mean always) putting them in exactly the same place, every single time. I don’t deviate from certain aspects of my routines — like always hanging up my car keys in their allotted place, as soon as I enter the house, like always putting my gloves back in my coat pockets, like always checking for my wallet before I go anywhere, and always keeping my sunglasses in the car in their case in the glove compartment of my car.
People have called me a variety of names, because I’m so strict with myself: nazi, anal-retentive, rigid, inflexible, too-strict… you name it. But these people don’t realize that if I deviate just a tiny bit from my routine and my ways of doing things, I can really get lost. If things aren’t where I expect them to be, my brain forgets that they exist. And that’s about the last thing I need to happen with my keys, my wallet, my sunglasses, or my gloves.
I do what I have to. And I get by.
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