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How I’ve Learned to Live with a Nonexistent Working Memory and You Can Too
Bullet journaling, personal journaling, and other tools have helped me remember how to live.
My memory is a sieve — in that, I don’t remember half of my life.
No exaggeration; I know things happened and I remember emotions and feelings but rarely specifics, like what a person said or other details that make the event more memorable.
My therapist and I have had some intriguing conversations about why my brain mocks me like this. Early trauma. My lizard (read: ADD) brain. Fibromyalgia memory fog. All the above.
Unfortunately, having a reason doesn’t matter when I still have to live with the consequences.
What Consequences?
I don’t remember many of the important things that have happened to me. I know they happened and sometimes even have the pictures to prove it, but I don’t always remember anything about them.
- My wedding day.
- The days my boys were born (aside from a few specific moments; and honestly, part of this could be because of being on the ‘good drugs’).
- My graduation.
I’m still surprised when I see photos about get-togethers I don’t remember, sometimes including people I never remembered meeting.
If I didn’t write about it, even fleetingly, I rarely recall it. But if I write it down, I’ve found it will sometimes come back to me even years later. Not always, but sometimes.
Details are filler.
I forget or just never retain details, especially about people, even about people I love. I get mixed up on birthdates, anniversaries, years, and everything in between.
My grandmother used to tease me because for years I remembered her birthday on November 11 — except it was on November 10. I was ridiculously proud several years ago when I scheduled her birthday in my calendar, along with a reminder a few days before, and I called her — on the right day!
When I realized the full extent of my memory issues, my grandmother was the first person I told.
