Almost a year ago, I wrote a post entitled, “Losing Your Mind or Losing Your Memory?“ Would you rather lose track of the past yet in some way know that you’ve lost track of it. Or, would you rather be oblivious to it, to lose sight of the past altogether. It’s not a simple question, I think. While it could be extraordinarily difficult to live like someone developing Alzheimer’s, it could be just as difficult for others (if not more so) to have to keep track of everything you’ve forgotten.
I think of this a good bit because the further my mental illness progresses (and the more psychtropic meds I take), the more memory I lose. When I am rapid-cycling for weeks at a time, I can totally lose sight of many of the things that are happening around me, even significant things I’ve done. I’ve read letters I’ve written and wondered who wrote them. My wife will quote something I’ve said and it sounds like it’s coming from someone else.
Often, I find these instances very frustrating, even maddening at times. Other times, I am grateful. At times when I am off-balance, I can say or do things I painfully regret. While I still must deal with the reality and consequences of saying or doing them, some of the sting is removed because I have little recognition of having been there at the time. My mind graciously exempts me from the trauma of shame (though it doesn’t absolve me from guilt).
John Prine, master bard that he is, has a song, that seems to fit well with this reality I’m experiencing -
How Lucky
©John Prine
Today I walked down the street I use to wander
Yeah, shook my head and made myself a bet
There was all these things that I don’t think I remember
Hey, How lucky can one man get.I bronzed my shoes and hung from a rearview mirror
Bronzed admiration in the blind spot of regret
There was all these things that I don’t think I remember
Hey, How lucky can one man get.Today I walked down the street I use to wander
Yeah, scratched my head and lit my cigarette
Well, There was all these things that I don’t think I remember
Hey, How lucky can one man get.Today I walked down the street I use to wander
Yeah, shook my head and made myself a bet
There was all these things that I don’t think I remember
Hey, How lucky can one man get.
Hey, How lucky can one man get.
Hey, How lucky can
one …
man…
get.
Sometimes we are lucky, fortunate, blessed, not to remember all those things in our past that will only bring us pain and hardship. They are as good as forgotten.
I am saddened at times that because my mind had to protect me as a child to save me that it also blocked out some of the good that must have been there. Yet as I successfully manage the same illness that my mother let overtake her I have come to understand why she doesn’t remember her children’s childhood the same way that we think we remember.
The Pistol fires back: I can appreciate what you say. I have trouble talking about my past with a number of family members because it seems we lived in two very different worlds.
I wish I could forget past things but I notice that more my meds are increased, switched, or I have epsiodes of mania the more my short term memory goes. I cannot remember crap unless I write it down. As one who used to be so organized without notes or planners this is very frustrating to me. I also forget what I have said to people and repeat a lot.
The past when it relates to parenting and childhood always has at least two different sides. I think as children we become more analytical of events as we age and our parents gloss over the same events.
As I recently read in a book, “We all stack the deck when it comes to our memories”. I believe this is true.
The Pistol fires back: I share your frustration over the loss of short-term memory. As yet, it hasn’t gotten me into too much trouble at work, but it sure annoys my family. The only part of long-term memory loss that bothers me is not remembering my children growing up. Then again, I was so consumed with my own issues at the time, I’m not sure I played much of a role in it, anyway.
This post reminds me a bit of The Second Coming by Walker Percy, which starts with a girl coming out of ECT and reading a note she wrote to herself beforehand, explaining to herself how to escape and make her way in the world.
The Pistol fires back: Very interesting. I’ve read “The Second Coming”, but, as usual, I’ve forgotten it.
Pistol Pete,
Thank you for your boldness in sharing your personal struggles with us all. Your openness serves as a reminder to take every moment not for granted, but as a blessing from God & to live moment by moment & day by day, for God.
In spite of dealing with Bipolar Disorder, you’re attitude on NT reminds me of the following Scripture:
1st Thessalonians 5:16-18
16 Be joyful always, 17 pray continually; 18 give thanks in all circumstances, for this is God’s will for you in Christ Jesus.
The Pistol fires back: Thank you for your encouragin words. They mean a lot coming from you.
A real Christian would never “fire back”
The Pistol turns the other cheeck: Is that better?