When Your Brain Plays Hide and, Well, Just Hide!
The other day, I walked into my regular café for a coffee and sandwich, only to be presented with a rather nice overshirt I’d apparently left there weeks ago. The kicker? I had no recollection of even owning it, and I then remembered that I really loved the shirt that I had forgotten entirely about. This incident opened the floodgates to a peculiar aspect of my ADHD: the mysterious case of forgetting what I’ve forgotten.
Enter the Library of Lost Books, a mythical place where all my forgotten tomes reside. I’ve purchased at least five copies of my favourite book, “The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy.” Where are the other four? Perhaps they’ve hitchhiked across the galaxy, or more likely, they’re collecting dust on friends’ bookshelves — friends whose names I’ve also conveniently forgotten.
But the crown jewel of my forgetfulness has to be the Great Phone Search of 2022. Picture this: I’m frantically searching the house for my mobile phone, turning cushions over, checking under furniture, all while having an animated conversation with a friend about how I’ve lost my phone, he was just laughing at me adding to my fury. The punchline? I was talking to him on the very phone I was searching for. It was in my hand the entire time, pressed against my ear as I lamented its disappearance. If there were an Olympic event for absent-mindedness, I’d win gold — if I remembered to show up for the ceremony, or even the event, that is.
This phenomenon extends beyond books and phones. I once spent an entire morning searching for my glasses, only to realize I was wearing them. In a similar vein, I’ve left the house multiple times with two different shoes on, blissfully unaware of my mismatched footwear until a kind stranger pointed it out.
Then there’s the case of the Multiplying Umbrellas. I’ve bought so many umbrellas over the years that I’m convinced I’m single-handedly keeping the umbrella industry afloat. Yet, whenever it rains, I can never find one. I suspect they’re having secret umbrella parties in some forgotten corner of my home. Perhaps they inhabit the cellar, but do I even have a cellar? I have no idea.
My kitchen is another realm of forgotten treasures. I’ve discovered exotic spices I don’t remember buying, their expiration dates a testament to how long they’ve been lurking in the back of my cupboard. Once, I found a pineapple in my fridge that I swear I never purchased. Was I sleepwalking to the grocery store?
Coping with this “forgotten forgetting” requires more than just better organization. It demands a sense of humour and a willingness to embrace the absurd. I’ve started to view my life as a constant treasure hunt, where I’m always on the verge of discovering something I forgot I owned — or rediscovering something I forgot I was holding in my hand.
So, here’s to the things we’ve forgotten we’ve forgotten — may they continue to surprise us, amuse us, and remind us that life with ADHD is nothing if not an adventure in the unexpected. And if you ever see me searching for my phone while talking on it, just smile and nod. It’s just another day in the life of someone who frequently forgets to remember.
P.S. I am also trying to remember to post stuff on Medium again….I hope. So, I welcome any reminders to do so…
