8/2/11

Sometimes It's Better to Forget


Back in the day, I could remember anything. My mind was a steel trap. Well, in complete disclosure, I remembered anything I wanted to remember.

Names, numbers, directions to some locale—it was all there. No need to take notes. Tell me once, and I’d have it.

I can’t remember the exact day that I realized I didn’t remember things like I usually did. I want to say it was somewhere between Nicholas and Darrin being born. Who knows? I can’t remember.

However, I do recall my dad talking about some past event. I looked at him as if it was the most ridiculous thing I’d ever heard and that he’d made it up. Somehow he managed to jog my memory. In my distress, he said, “Don’t worry. Your brain is like a computer. It dumps things it doesn’t think it needs anymore so you have room for more things. Like the hard drive, it’s not really gone—it just takes some work to dredge it back up.”

Well, alrighty then.

I quit worrying about what I didn’t remember and started to rely on copious notes, my cell phone, and my calendar. It seemed like I still had it all together.

A few nights ago, Big Daddy and I got into a discussion about the exact timeline of events occurring about twelve years ago--almost to the day. It would seem my memories as things unfolded are very different than his memories. I defended my recollections with specific details, countering that I had to be correct. He also had details to back up his argument. Finally I gave in. Having just been hospitalized a few months prior, I thought perhaps my heavy medication regimen at the time skewed my memories.

Only, there seem to be a lot of holes I can’t remember. And don’t know why I don’t remember.

Yesterday, I read a post by Courtney. She and I lived across the street from one another. We didn’t run in the same circles, but we seemed to be friendly towards one another. I am pretty sure she was at my Sweet 16 party.

Her post haunted me.  Here we attended the same small-town high school and the things she described caused me to cry. How could I have been there and not seen it? Or what if I did and blocked it from my memory?

It makes me sad that I can’t remember yet Courtney can’t forget. 



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