Memory

Memory is on my mind of late. Names, dates and activities are leaking out of the brain stuffed inside my skull. It’s good that these missing items don’t turn into water because I’d be standing in puddles all the time. I need nets of prompts to recreate them. That turned me into a list maker, photo annotator, calendar detailer, and contact documenter. Sticky notes decorate my laptop screen. If it’s not chronicled, it’s a ghost, disappeared. How did I keep all the stuff in my head before I turned 50? When did my mind’s Rolodex (or should I say random access memory) explode, leaving behind figments of disorganized memory?

I tell stories of my experiences, some old and some more recent. Whether conferenced with colleagues or at dinner with friends or family, someone will say, “I was there and don’t remember it that way. Have you lost your mind?” There lies the conundrum—which telling is correct? If only facts are at issue, they resolve with research (isn’t that why we have Google search?). However, experiences are more than facts. They carry emotional intensity and the greater it is, the more vivid the memories become, hardening into change resistant “truths”. This poses many social challenges, as I’ve learned firsthand.

I’ve wailed, “Another senior moment!” more than once as I roamed from room to room looking for my phone, or had the name of a book lodged on the tip of my tongue. What keeps me up at night is the fear that this intermittent problem becomes repetitive and frequent. Will I slide down the slippery slope into dementia? Will my memory become so impaired that I can’t remember what I forgot? 

I’d like to believe that I can stabilize this ripe neural network headquarters in my head by building fresh paths around the burnt brain synapses. I try to live in the present, engaging with people, and keeping my focus on the future, not the past.

What will prevent my brain from reaching its “past due date”? I’m not a scientist, but I know the brain is an organ that gets old, like all organs. Is it futile to resist the inevitable?

Faced with this good news, I practice relaxing, laughing and continuing to live life as an adventure, not a deadend. What’s your solution?