I forgot to remember

It’s getting to where I don’t remember much of anything these days. That is really starting to get on my nerves, mainly because it scares me a bit. Is this where I being the long journey to become my mother in her final incarnation here, devoid of any linear processing ability and the unique part of me that makes me…me? That’s what happened to her, and it started with a little more forgetfulness than usual, a little more bizarre lapses in judgment. It was subtle at first, even amusing. Everyone just attributed it to normal aging processes.

Later, it got almost dangerous. Always a stickler for details and paying her bills on time, always on top of every account, every penny in her accounts, she gradually became someone with poor credit because she had neglected to pay recurring bills on time, if at all. She let her insurances lapse, both her personal health insurance and the property tax on the house. That was totally out of character for her.

Unfortunately, it would not be entirely out of character for me, but when I’ve paid bills late or neglected accounts there was always a nagging shred of a memory that I couldn’t eradicate. These days, I find myself surprised at some of the urgent calls for payment, or renewals of things like my DMV affairs. It’s getting ridiculous, and I wonder how in the world I might be able to hold a job with any degree of competence.

I applied for a job late last week, with the giant healthcare corporation in town (Novant). It sounds a lot like what I was doing a few years ago in terms of the technological expertise required, but it’s full time and not remote. That sucks big time, but I’m getting close to frantic over not having a paycheck and benefits. Being frantic and preoccupied with that stuff is not going to help me remember a damned thing.

So, here I sit, beginning to make my way toward a trip out of the apartment, to pick up a new headset and to see the psychiatrist. The headset will be fine. The psychiatrist…well, we’ll just have to see. I’m a little nervous about it, because I’m a little nervous bout everything right now. Anxiety is becoming more and more an issue, which doesn’t make me happy since that is also a reminder of my mother’s condition, even before the dementia.

I am so incredibly tired of dealing with myself. Why can’t I just …. go on, just do the next thing that needs to be done, not have to fret over everything and prepare for disaster several times in a day? I have always been hypervigilant, but I can ignore the warning flags. I don’t quite get that, and I never have. Is that fear of success or just (as my mother used to say) laziness and trifling? I don’t know, I don’t care, but things should be this difficult. Or at least that’s my story.

I forgot to get dog food, so she is looking very expectant. I don’t blame her, although she has had several treats today so I know she’s not in danger of starving. It’s still a bit annoying that I forgot to pick up a new bag of food, because I reminded myself of it several times in the last 36 hours and STILL forgot to get it. Argh. And yes yes yes I am still grateful that I have the money to rectify the error.

Perhaps I’m tired of having to rationalize and justify everything I feel. “I’m annoyed because I feel crazy and need to see a shrink.” That has to be followed by “Yes, but at least you have the resources to see a shrink.” Shut up, please. I am not happy to have a need to do that, even if it’s just for medication management. I don’t want to be this crazy and need medication for my depression and anxiety. I don’t’ want to be this addictive and need professional help to not eat myself into an early grave (or crematorium). I don’t want to be a pain in my own ass, but that’s exactly how I feel. Tired of having to go through so mancy changes just to get through a day.

One of my Artist’s Way group members died a couple of weeks ago. She had drifted away from the group, and seemed to have suddenly gotten rather frail. She was 79, I believe, and one of the other group members saw the death notice in the newspaper and let us know. The lady who died was a nice and kind retired teacher, art teacher if I remember correctly. She was talented, and did basket weaving and other crafts that were quite beautiful She had a couple of grown daughters, and we kind of knew that but she wasn’t terribly forthcoming about her life. When I read the obituary, I learned so much about her that I had not know.

I don’t want people to not know who I am. They don’t have to know about every screw-up or aborted relationship, don’t have to be witness to stupid crap I did 30 years ago, but I do want people to know the big chunks that were struggles, obstacles, all that. There are some big chunks that I don’t share with anyone, and a few more that I only share with a very select few. It is definitely a trust issue, and I haven’t been given very much reason to trust people I might choose for that level of intimacy.

So, we’ll see how this appointment goes. I’m reasonably annoyed today because this damned drone that I bought is not working the way it should – the remote won’t stay charged no matter how long I have it connected to the charger. Maybe I’ll have to return it for a replacement, and that aggravates me. I want to be playing with it and figuring out how to use it, but I can’t get out of the starting gate.

This is one hell of a way to live a life, where everything is in the form of a question. Am I doing this right? Am I really not as smart as I thought I was, not as good of a writer as I thought I was? Was the previous asshole employer correct about me, that I’m basically incompetent and can’t be trusted with a responsible job? Will I ever have peace inside my own head, in my soul? Have I wasted my entire life, and disappointed everyone (including myself)? Can I be redeemed? Can I survive?

I wish I could find a soundtrack for the fear-based part of my life. Maybe it’s not written yet, but it might include songs like “Wild World” and “Sitting” by Cat Stephens.

Sitting all alone not by myself…
…Oh life is like a maze of doors
And they all open from the side you’re on
Just keep on pushing hard boy, try as you may
You’re going to wind up where you started from”

I suppose I have wound up where I started from. The beginning was as confusing as where I’ve wound up. I don’t much enjoy either point. Sick of people who want to be in control of me, in control of everything around me, leaving me with no agency or control of my own circumstances. I don’t know if that’s true but it’s how I feel. I wonder if I have the strength to keep going if there’s a significant challenge. Will I just throw in the towel and take a standing count to signal surrender? Will I get up yet again, and then wait for the next blow? I’m pretty over that.

When do I get what I want? I’m normally not that arrogant to presume that I’m entitled to get what I want, but it seems to work that way for just about everyone else. When is it my turn? When do others stand aside and let me pass? When can I stand down and let others fight the battle? When have I done enough?

Enough is enough.

Published by annzimmerman

I am Louisiana born and bred, now living in Winston Salem, North Carolina. Fortunately for me, I was already living in NC before Hurricane Katrina decimated my beloved New Orleans. An only child, I now feel that I have no personal history since the hurricane destroyed the relics and artifacts of my childhood. As I have always heard, c'est la vie. My Louisiana roots show in my love of good coffee, good food, and good music. My soggy native soil has also shown me that resilience is hard-wired in my consciousness; when the chips are down (or drowned)...bring it on.

2 thoughts on “I forgot to remember

  1. I’m sorry if I keep writing what must be sounding like preachy replies. I’m trying to say what I do and what I find in life in the hopes it helps but I know that I don’t truly know you or what you’re going through.

    That’s the harsh part of the truth – no one can see the whole of who we are or why we are in any part of ourselves. It sucks. Yet, no one reading these or, I imagine, bumping into you, could help but take away a little of who you are. Do you think your 59 followers haven’t already taken away loads of aspects of you and found themselves subtly changed in seeing the different views you project on a life you’re living?

    As for anxiety, I can only return with what I have lived and known of it ( and yes, you could be facing a very different monster so if this doesn’t work don’t beat yourself up for my mistake ). It muddles and muddies your mind until all is a fog and you find yourself rooted to the spot with inaction and doubt. It makes it hard to hold on to any one concept or hope and leaves you lost.
    Maybe there’s more going on but first stop. Take just one thing and deal with it., then look at the next. Everything may be a mountain but you’re the bird that gets to grind it down one beak rub at a time.
    Find a way to see the strength in getting each thing done. It’s not easy and it’s scary not knowing if the mountain will fall on you but it’s worth a try ( it works for me ). It wont stop being there and it will still grip unexpectedly but it will lose strength and you will find it easier to see.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Ps. I think the start of my first reply really didn’t say it clear enough. There are at least 59 people who’ve got a chance to know and hold a bit of ‘you’ and who will remember that. There are at least 59 people who said, “We think you’re a good writer and worth coming back to read again and again”. And there are at least 59 people who’ve found something in your writing which says you’ve not ‘wasted my entire life, and disappointed everyone (including myself)’.
    By my count that’s a lot.

    Liked by 1 person

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