:D Dude - I'm not even kidding! People often get frustrated and think they're not important to me because of this flaw. They think that what they say doesn't matter and that's why I don't remember. But that's not true! I can't remember birthdays to save my life! I don't even know all my siblings birthdays or even my parents! And I LOVE Birthdays!!! It's not because they're not important or because I don't love you that I forget. My memory can be So Absolutely Atrocious and it has nothing to do with lack of love or importance or even slacking off. You have no idea the lengths I have gone through to remember something. And then...
...
I've always known this is a major struggle for me, and I've dedicated a lot of time into finding tools to compensate for this weakness. I write everything down when I take an order as a waitress. I set a timer when something's in the oven AND ask people present to remind me I'm cooking. I carry a planner in my purse. I write myself notes. I even label my morning alarm with WHY I have to get up and how long I have to get ready. The compensations help, but often I've realized, finding the right tools to help with a weakness, is easier if you know more about the struggle in question.
One of the reasons I have therapy every week is to figure out root issues, which in turn helps me know what tools I need to learn that will best equip me to handle life better. No one needs every tool and trick to life, and while some are helpful to me, they may not be helpful to you. In the case of my memory - the root issues are extensive, but I've been playing with this puzzle and I think I just put two pieces together. I'm extremely visual. Ok, ok - bear with me. Granted, I'd rather listen to music than watch a movie - it's not that I don't love my sense of hearing. And I actually have horrible eyesight and enjoy that immensely as well.
My memory though - I started noticing certain things recently and this morning I realized that I can't remember things said to me - verbally - like, ever. And I began to wonder why. I love my dreams. I love writing them down as soon as I wake. And I know there's talking in them and if I write down the dream quick enough I can even remember the gist of what someone said, but very rarely the exact words. But it gets kinda crazier. I can't remember sounds from my dreams. I can't remember noise of any kind - in dreams or ever.
Romantic books and movies often stay stuff like - I remembered the curve of her face and the lilt of her voice. Huh? Totally always thought that was just some sweet, sappy stuff they threw in there for effect. But people can remember stuff like that! It shocked me when I asked someone the other day if they could remember the smell of a their favorite flower. I can't. And I can't remember sound. I actually don't even think with sound. There's no music in my head, no memories of my mom's voice singing me to sleep. If I try really really hard, I can remember the sound of rain when it's not falling. It takes a lot of effort and concentration, but I can remember the sound of a snort when I've said something ridiculous.
The only sound in my head is my own voice trying to put into words the emotions that fill my mind and the images that accompany them. And that's a new skill. I used to just feel. Just get lost in a dream or daymare of my own devising. My head has always been filled to bursting, but rarely with actual words. And never with any sound. It's extremely chaotic in there, and extremely quiet. My mind is often like watching an intensely graphic and bloody horror film on mute. But it can also be a beautiful silent film. Kinda like a gif.
This is a good representation of my daydreams
I never knew this either. I know that verbal instruction, if it's really slowly said, I can visualize. But if I can't visualize it, I shut down. I've always gotten very frustrated with myself for not being able to follow teachers because of this. Often I just ignored the meanings of their words and wrote down every single thing they said and wrote on the board without thinking about it. Then I would study my notes and try to comprehend what the lesson was about. One of the reasons my handwriting is so bad - I used a lot of fast shorthand to do that. It was hard, but I got good at it. And it wasn't always that difficult. I had this history teacher who had the longest lectures - that I loved! And I loathed history - me remembering dates and names? Nope.
But he does things differently. His lectures always went with a slide-show. Every single one. Not a whole bunch of words, although he had slides with important information that he would pause his speech so we could write them down word-for-word. But most of his lecture slides were composed of pictures - he would put up photos, diagrams, maps(!) of what he was talking about. I loved his lectures so much that I took three different history classes of his!! And I remember more from his lectures - than ANY of my elementary, middle or high school history classes combined.
Man - how did I not see this years ago? I've known for a couple months that I love photos because it helps spark the memory of things that I don't want to forget. I save conversations that I will re-read over and over because I won't remember otherwise. I email myself and star those and then regularly look back and read them. Words are not typically as easy for me to remember as a picture, even if I read them. Maybe that's most people. I don't know. But I find while people are all the same, we are all incredibly unique as well. I mean, I don't know if this happens to you, but for me, looking at a picture of myself can be pretty friggin intense. Lemme explain.
Photographs are not 2D for me. They're like a portal, a time machine to go back to the moment it was taken. When I see a picture, it's like a movie. I'm there all over again. This can be extremely painful, but also incredibly exhilarating. There are two that I particularly love to look at of myself, because I remember that afternoon with vivid clarity every time I see them. And it was one of the best experiences of my life. This is not an exaggeration and I rarely tell people, probably because I don't trust people enough to share a vulnerability like that. Trusting people with my emotions is not easy. I don't have good experiences with it. That doesn't just mean my sad emotions. It includes my happy ones. Those ones are actually even harder for me to trust people with. So, here goes nothing. Or everything.
We had gone camping and my friends wanted to go for a hike. I agreed because the goal was a waterfall and I have a soft spot for water in any form. But I didn't understand exactly how excited I would be when I saw it. I remember walking down the path, lots of stones and roots and enjoying the walk as it was downhill. I don't remember my feelings much until I first heard the rush of a stream in the distance. I perked up and lost track of the conversation. My feet followed the sound and I couldn't help speeding up until I was running down the path. I remember the excitement and eager anticipation. I remember that getting there and seeing it wasn't enough. I took off my shoes and stepped into an oasis outside of time. I remember climbing up the rocks and exploring the crisp mountain stream. Wanting to go further and the adrenaline pumping though my veins. I remember forcing myself to turn back even though I didn't want to leave. Wishing I could stay there all day, but also not wanting my friends to get bored. I remember saying goodbye to the waterfall and relaying that we could go home. I felt sad to leave, but incredibly content with life.
And that moment when they told me there was another waterfall - a bigger one! I remember the overwhelming gratitude I felt that they didn't mind taking the time to let me see another. And I seem to remember their smiles at my hard-to-contain eagerness to see it, but my mind rejects that memory. I remember what seems like entirely too many stone steps that I couldn't get down fast enough and finally reaching the bluff and seeing the waterfall for the first time. The overwhelming desire to get closer - as close as possible was my top priority. I remember a man telling me the path I chose to go explore was dangerous and to be careful. I remember standing there, debating the best way down. Trying so hard not to rush, so as not to fall and sprain something that would hinder my journey to get to the water.
And I remember the pride as I made it down without falling flat on my face. Eagerly turning the corner around a wall of rock and finding a half-cave with a small hidden waterfall. I was filled to the brim with wonder and excitement. I was in the moment, not the past or the future. And the intensity of my joy would simply not allow me to hide behind a mask of normalcy. I still had a mask of neutrality on, but my euphoria was seeping through. The waterfalls are a popular location and although I didn't want people to see how much the place effected me - I didn't want to suppress it either. And so I ignored the people around me. I leaned into the water, put my cheek against the stone and just felt. Emotionally and physically, I felt everything.
Photographs are not 2D for me. They're like a portal, a time machine to go back to the moment it was taken. When I see a picture, it's like a movie. I'm there all over again. This can be extremely painful, but also incredibly exhilarating. There are two that I particularly love to look at of myself, because I remember that afternoon with vivid clarity every time I see them. And it was one of the best experiences of my life. This is not an exaggeration and I rarely tell people, probably because I don't trust people enough to share a vulnerability like that. Trusting people with my emotions is not easy. I don't have good experiences with it. That doesn't just mean my sad emotions. It includes my happy ones. Those ones are actually even harder for me to trust people with. So, here goes nothing. Or everything.
We had gone camping and my friends wanted to go for a hike. I agreed because the goal was a waterfall and I have a soft spot for water in any form. But I didn't understand exactly how excited I would be when I saw it. I remember walking down the path, lots of stones and roots and enjoying the walk as it was downhill. I don't remember my feelings much until I first heard the rush of a stream in the distance. I perked up and lost track of the conversation. My feet followed the sound and I couldn't help speeding up until I was running down the path. I remember the excitement and eager anticipation. I remember that getting there and seeing it wasn't enough. I took off my shoes and stepped into an oasis outside of time. I remember climbing up the rocks and exploring the crisp mountain stream. Wanting to go further and the adrenaline pumping though my veins. I remember forcing myself to turn back even though I didn't want to leave. Wishing I could stay there all day, but also not wanting my friends to get bored. I remember saying goodbye to the waterfall and relaying that we could go home. I felt sad to leave, but incredibly content with life.
And that moment when they told me there was another waterfall - a bigger one! I remember the overwhelming gratitude I felt that they didn't mind taking the time to let me see another. And I seem to remember their smiles at my hard-to-contain eagerness to see it, but my mind rejects that memory. I remember what seems like entirely too many stone steps that I couldn't get down fast enough and finally reaching the bluff and seeing the waterfall for the first time. The overwhelming desire to get closer - as close as possible was my top priority. I remember a man telling me the path I chose to go explore was dangerous and to be careful. I remember standing there, debating the best way down. Trying so hard not to rush, so as not to fall and sprain something that would hinder my journey to get to the water.
And I remember the pride as I made it down without falling flat on my face. Eagerly turning the corner around a wall of rock and finding a half-cave with a small hidden waterfall. I was filled to the brim with wonder and excitement. I was in the moment, not the past or the future. And the intensity of my joy would simply not allow me to hide behind a mask of normalcy. I still had a mask of neutrality on, but my euphoria was seeping through. The waterfalls are a popular location and although I didn't want people to see how much the place effected me - I didn't want to suppress it either. And so I ignored the people around me. I leaned into the water, put my cheek against the stone and just felt. Emotionally and physically, I felt everything.
Many people know touch is one of my languages. But it's even more than that. Touch is extremely healing for me. Whether it be a hug from a trusted friend or the feel of rain on my face. I don't love waterfalls because of the way they look, although they are beautiful. What I love is how my bare feet feel standing on the coarse rock. That silky touch as I drag my fingers through it veil of water. The drops of water getting caught in my eyelashes. I remember thousands of physical and emotional sensations as I explored that day. As I sat at the top of that last waterfall - my mind soared. And the culmination of them all as I stood beneath that final, great waterfall and let it cascade over my head, soaking me completely through. It felt as if God Himself was enfolding me in an embrace.
Thank You
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