Amnesiac

[rinue]

One of the most intresting characteristics of pain is that you can't remember it once it's ended. Similarly, when it is present, you can't remember its absense. The same could be said of love. I consider this an irony of state dependent memory.

I have completely lost my past. It's very strange. I have trouble talking in anything other than present tense.

I know that I *have* a history; I can look at the documentation, or ask Valancy. But my mind slips over events as though they are jellied glass. It's not just that I have no emotional connection to them, it's that they don't exist to me unless I'm actively thinking about them -- which is hard work. I'm going to try to document it anyway, because Valancy tells me it is important.

It started with the events of last Wednesday, spending time with Thomas and Valancy. Thomas, it must be understood, I have loved for fully half of my life. There has always been an inevitable sense of connection, from the time we first met. We can go for years without speaking and not lose the sense of closeness. (Could, rather. Must remember past tense.)

To be frank, I always found that more annoying than romantic. I've never believed in fate, or soulmates, or any of that crap, and I *certainly* don't think someone can fall deeply and truly in love at age eleven. But there is, nevertheless, no other description for it. If you're saying at this point "that's bullshit", know that I agree with you.

On Wednesday, he simply . . . wasn't there. He was any other college boy, dressed in khakis, drinking too much, and talking about life as an angry white male. There were moments, certainly, which hinted that another Thomas *had* existed, like his instrumental use of Godzilla. . . But more often, he viewed Val and I as just another couple of chicks. We could have been anyone, never mind that the three of us had been best friends for aeons. So could he.

If I could think about it, I'd find it terrifying that a person could simply disappear like that.

Obviously, I'm not in love with him anymore, because he doesn't exist now. In a way, as I've said earlier, this is wonderful -- it means I never, ever have to worry about it again.

What's more frightening, when I have the capacity to be frightened, is that I can't recall ever loving him, or ever being in love. With anyone. At least, that's how it started. Within a few days, the amnesia managed to bleed backward until I could only remember two events for which we were both present. Now, it's almost all gone -- not just him, but everything. There's. Nothing. There.

I can't remember being a kid. I can't really remember my parents, or my family, or anything. Hell, I can't remember the beginning of today. I know that there are certain people I like and certain people I dislike, but I couldn't tell you why. I can remember the origin of certain objects and artifacts if someone asks me, but I mostly keep them around because I know that they *should* mean something to me and I hope that maybe they'll trigger something.

It's ridiculous. I shouldn't be reacting like this. Nothing has happened that could cause it; I've received no head trauma and I refuse to believe that my entire psychology can be affected by one idiotic. . . I don't even know. I don't know what caused it. I have to have caused it, and I have to be able to stop it.

Of course, I don't care whether or not I stop it, because I have no attachment to the memories I should be trying to get back, but people tell me it's important and my brain tells me they are trustworthy and not generally self-centered.

The one bright spot in this is that I'm an incredibly good improv actor, and so I can fool most people into thinking I'm still me. And obviously, there are still people and pastimes whose company I enjoy. And, of course, I retain my sense of humor. If that's ever gone, I don't know what I'll do.

Comments

Welcome to my sickness

[ailei.livejournal.com]

That's how I've lived my life for as long as I can remember. Or not, as the case may be. It doesn't happen with people, so much with me, as it does with events. I simply do not remember my childhood, beyond these *really* big lows. I don't think there have been enough *really* big highs to overwhelm them, or, hey, if there were I don't remember them. When I try to remember my childhood, all I can recall are impressions of screaming and fear. I couldn't tell you the names of my friends, or my teachers, sometimes I forget which schools I went to. And the same holds true for my adult life as well, except there are some really big highs to go along with the lows. But mostly...it's a blank.

Amnesia's one hell of a coping mechanism. It's fun, eccentric and charming. What would I do without it?

Woohoo I'm commenting

[deche.livejournal.com]

Your life, for the most part, seems like a novel, romie, and somehow, I am beginning to question whether I'm not the star in my own life story, but rather a side character (with "background") in yours.

But this is not the point, as ailei said, life is pretty much a blur to me as well. I constantly say I have a bad memory, and I do. I don't tend to remember things except with a nice cloudy haze around it, and usually in fragments of disconnected images... My childhood is more stories that other people have relayed back to me and a few sparse flashes of images here and there. I don't really remember yesterday, although I'd be able to tell you a few things I did. I rarely remember how I felt or what I thought, or exactly what I was doing during the time. But I'm assuming since you mentioned it in a journal entry, that this is either worse than my lack of ability to recollect things, or that it is a change in your ability to rememeber.

In any case, I find it sad that it bothers you, and more so, the selfish part of me has that instance of panic where I think "what if she doesn't remember why she likes me." But truth be told, I suppose it doesn't matter. I could never describe my friends and why they were my friends. It's hard for me to put such things into terms other than saying "they're nice" or something equally unmeaninfuly, so instead, I just don't describe my friends and hope no one asks why I like them.

But this completely doesn't help your situation. So really, I don't know what I should tell you except that I wanted to comment and "sound" as though I knew a good solution or at least stimulating commentary. However, I will tell you this...

As long as I know you, I will tell you are evil. Every time I see you. Several times when I see you, in fact. So hopefully, your amnesia will never be phased in that aspect. You will always know that... *scary music plays*

You are evil

[tommx.livejournal.com]

My past is mostly a patchwork of sounds and distorted images. I say distorted because my visual memory has always been lousy and I tend to distort and change images from my past. Always have. For that reason, certain people from my childhood are remembered more as caricatures rather than as actual people. I often think of "The Man Who Mistook His Wife for a Hat" by Oliver Saks about a man whose visual aphasia made it difficult for him to distinguish between parking meters and people in the steets. I guess that image works...my childhood memories are filled with talking parking meters.

[taleyana.livejournal.com]

I hate to say to people: "I know how you feel," or anything along those lines because I don't really know how you feel. All I *can* say is that I had a similar experience with someone who I spent my whole life caring very deeply for only to have them act like I didn't exist half the time and then disappear one day.

It's very hard to go through that and remembering things about that person is very painful, and I don't necessarily agree that you *should* try to remember this person's role in your life at this point. When it happened to me, my heart and mind needed time to heal and be a little angry before I could think about the good times we shared.

Anyway, just thought I'd toss in my two cents worth. If it's even worth that much. :) I hope things get better for you very soon. You don't deserve all of this. Love ya.