It's My Birthday (Of Sorts)

Today is my new birthday. That's right, I celebrate today as the day of my new beginning. Today is the anniversary of the day I was officially "found". I had already been in the hospital a couple of days when I was identified, but today is the official day to celebrate!! Of course, for me it didn't happen until 5/5. That was when I "met" my parents, and my road to recovery really began.

TV - As Vital As Google

Here's something new. TV shows are starting to come back to me. Not overall synopses, but individual episodes. I'm currently watching Star Trek: TNG to relearn what I liked and why. Loving it so far. All of the sudden, I remembered (while doing dishes, if we want to make this even more random) the episode where counselor Deanna Troi has a baby. No reason to remember it, just out of the blue it popped into my head.  

Fact and Fiction

I have been told that some of the things I put in this blog are lies. Since everything I post in this blog is memories (in other words, not just things other people have told me, but stuff I have actually remembered on my own over time) this statement got me wondering. How do we tell the difference between real memories and memories we have created in our minds/fantasies?

How many of you have looked at a picture and thought "I remember that!" when in fact you are "remembering" a story that has been planted in your head by your mother (father, sister, brother, aunt, uncle, grandparent) repeating what happened so many times that you built a memory around it? How do you know when what you remember is real and what has been influenced by others around you?

Dreams

How many times have you fallen asleep wondering what tomorrow will bring, or thinking about your to do list for the next day. Well, I typically have the opposite problem. I fall asleep wondering about the past, thinking about all the to do lists that I have forgotten. Not just forgotten because of amnesia, but forgotten because I am human and had a really bad memory on a day to day basis. Last night, and I'm sure for many nights to come, this was more even MORE of a problem than usual  because I am currently going through everything I own getting ready for a yard sale. I will be consolidating my household with my sister's and don't feel like storing a TON of stuff while I get myself back on my feet.

Little Things

Happiness comes in small packages.

Meeting a new friend and being able to discuss things that have happened in my life, PAST and present, to help them better understand me.

Talking with my grandfather on the phone and knowing who he's talking about when he mentions different people from the church that I grew up in. Both who they are and what they mean/meant to me.

Going through boxes of my personal belongings from the storage unit and remembering when and where I got each item and re-examining the reasons why.

Talking to my kids on the phone and being able to say "Do you remember......?" (and sometimes hearing them say no, and smiling because I remember something they don't which means they couldn't have told me about it. Therefore I remembered it on my own.)

Remembering little things that people are amazed I remember (like the circumstances behind receiving something as normal and every day as a cup with dandelions in it, although that's maybe not so common since I am allergic to dandelions, but still.....)

Tasting something I've eaten before and remembering times when I ate that same thing. (Tastes are something I haven't been able to remember until I actually eat or drink something. I get the impression that's weird or something, but it is ME we're talking about!)

Tasting something I've NEVER eaten before. (Really just experiencing new things. I love new things!! My sense of adventure is at an all time high.)

Just waking up in the morning, because it's the little things that make me happy.

Hard Relationships

Relationships are hard. Obvious statement, I know, but something that has to be rediscovered by someone who has forgotten what a relationship is. Not to mention the fact that, once I started to remember my past, I realized I really sucked at them.  I'm not talking about one particular type of relationship. I'm talking about all relationships. Parent to child, sibling to sibling, friend to friend, man to woman....none are easy, all are worth it.

Learning to deal with people patiently and in a steady manner in a matter of months rather than a lifetime is not easy. Even with my memories back, I feel like there are things I've had to relearn. Such as the ability to relate to people the way others would expect a normal 33 year old divorcee and mother of four to relate. I watch the people around me closely and wonder if I will ever feel like I've at least got myself back up to the standard that is expected, not by other people, but by myself.

A Haunting Past

No matter how much a person tries to live their life, the past will come back to bite them. The more I remember, the more I find I have to regret. Every time something comes up that I need to forgive myself for, I have to deal again with other things that I've remembered and already tried to let go of and move on from.  That's the toughest part about how things have come back to me. I remembered good thing after good thing for the longest time. I asked the people who knew the truth about the bad things to please discuss them with me. It would have been the perfect opportunity to learn the truth, apologize, and move forward for all of us.

Taking Things to the Extreme

I had a couple of friends reminding me after "Everything Happens For a Reason" that self-destructive behavior is normal under the circumstances of my past. However, I do have this way of taking things to extremes.  I always say that it makes me sick when people use their past as an excuse for their poor decisions and bad behavior. If I sat here and blamed what had happened to me for my choices, that would make me a hypocrite.

So, I need to clarify something to all of you. I blame only myself for my past. My decisions were mine. I could have risen above circumstances, but chose to let my circumstances rise above me.  I also refuse to look at the past and beat myself up for those bad decisions. I have to forgive myself in order to move on with my life. That is my choice now. I forgive all. I forgive myself and I forgive those around me who made poor choices that effected me. I cannot forget because I am human, and to forget the past is to doom yourself to repeat the mistakes of that past. I choose to no longer let that past and those past mistakes rule my future. I allowed that for too many years and I am done.

I Don't Expect Much

Sometimes, I just want to sit in a corner and kick my feet and scream my head off (kinda like that kid in the store when her mother refused to buy her the chocolate and then actually had the guts to discipline her when she slapped her mother. I just hope my mother doesn't drag me out of the "grocery store"(a.k.a. the living room) kicking and screaming when I don't behave. Applause to that mother by the way. Don't see that enough these days.) My tantrum would be for no other reason than that sometimes I feel like life is not fair. Nothing horrible has happened. In fact quite the opposite, good things have come my way lately. However, sometimes I want that piece of chocolate along with the quiet, little, good things that come my way. (Mmmmm chocolate!!! Giving up chocolate for Lent....tough when you're a chocoholic.)

Stress Management

Did you know that if you suffer from mild depression medication may not help you?  My doctor flat out asked me if I want to be on medication and I think she was please when my response was no. Please, don't think I hold it against people who decide medication is the best treatment option for depression or that people should take those that are available. Quite frankly, I am happy that medication is available if needed.  I just don't think I need it.

I do believe, however, that I suffer from mild to moderate depression, with some bouts bordering on incapacitating. I also believe it is manageable with a good support system and a lot of effort on my part. Yes, I could choose to make this all easier and go on medication (if I could afford it, which is just another thing adding to my stress pile these days), but we cannot guarantee what effect that would have on my memories returning. Depression medication is designed to change the way your brain functions, and my brain is functioning differently enough, THANK YOU VERY MUCH!!

Flooding

Flooding is a form of psychotherapy to help patients overcome phobias, where the patient is exposed to their source of fear for longer and longer periods of time to help them learn to cope with and control the panic response.  Flooding is what I call an influx of memories, when I am hit with so many of them I have difficulty coping.  The last few weeks have been very hard, partly due to stresses outside myself and largely due to a flood of memories that has been growing day after day. 

Don't get me wrong, this flood of memories is a good thing. I love getting memories back of my children and family and friends.  I feel like I can participate in conversations with people about things I've experienced in life without feeling like a person outside of herself. For almost a year, I've felt like I was a stranger looking in on my life. Now, I'm starting to feel like a person who is truly getting to know herself again.

When I Was a Kid....

Did you ever get tired of the phrase "When I was a kid..." growing up?  I know I did. The stories about how great and difficult life was back in the good old days got less and less believable as I got closer to my teenage years.  As an adult, however, I have a few observances I'd like to make, and all of them about President's Day.

Yesterday was President's Day, and I had some errands to run so I went downtown and drove around to different places, passing a few parks along the way. After a few minutes I realized how sad the sidewalks and parks looked. They were empty.  All of them.

I Bet You Thought My Brain Had Melted or Something

So, I did it. I made it through the first three Star Wars films.  It was grueling work, but very worth it to have a conversation with my 10-year old son that I was able to contribute to and understand without having to ask a million questions that normal mothers probably never have to ask.  Questions like, "Who's Anakin Skywalker?" and "Why does Yoda talk like that?" (I realize that noone knows that answer to that one, but I didn't before I realized he just always has.)  Here are my opinions of the first three movies. 

#1.  It was okay. The special effects were good and the acting was something I could handle.  I wanted to shoot my television after a while thanks to Jar Jar, but decided that it wasn't my televisions fault that he was so annoying. Then, I wanted to shoot Jar Jar, but since he's a fictional character, I had to just get up and do some kickboxing instead. It helped, but not enough. I still think it's weird that a 9-year old Darth Vader built C3PO and that he was actually being passed off as some sort of virgin birth or something. Maybe I misunderstood that part. Easy to do as, by then, my brain was in defensive mode. "We just need to get through this. If we can survive this, we can survive anything!!" And, indeed we did. I chose not to tell my brain at that point that we had 5 more movies to go.

Back In "School"

I have been given an assignment.  My assignment is as follows. Tomorrow (Wednesday) and Thursday I am to watch one Star Wars movie each day. In fact I have been told to watch all of them starting with Episode I and going through in order. I am under orders to do the same with all of the Star Trek TV series, but that isn't part of this current assignment. Thursday night, I am to call him to discuss the storyline thus far and which at this point is my favorite character. I am sure at that point the assignment will be expanded to include more movies before the next time we talk on the phone.

Getting a Grip

Some days I wonder if every day is truly a clean slate. You can't really go back and erase the past and start each day afresh. So, what does that phrase really mean?  It's something I've had to really think about in the last couple of days. 

One of the hardest things I've had to deal with is remembering the stupid mistakes I've made in my life. Mistakes that have made people laugh with their ridiculousness. Mistakes that have embarassed me even though people didn't really notice.  Mistakes that hurt myself and those around me. Mistakes that led to the worst decisions anyone could ever choose to make. I've had to come to grips with the reality of a life poorly lived.

Clumsy Enough to Wear Padding (or Really Glad I Carry What God Graced Me With)

You know a teenager who has recently gone through a growth spurt when you see one. They're gangly and at least slightly, if not completely, uncoordinated. They never seem to know where to put their hands and their legs are so long that their feet don't ever seem to land where they expect them to. Well, I can sympathize. Learning how to coordinate myself in this body has not been easy. I fell asleep in the body of a child and woke up in the body of a 32 year old. It's bound to throw anyone off, I'm sure, let alone someone who wasn't that coordinated to begin with.

Missing

No, I'm not talking about myself. I'm talking about all those opportunities that have been missed due to the messed up nature of my life. In case you are wondering, yes I am a tad bit depressed. Today is my middle son's birthday. Today I missed an opportunity to be with my child because of everything that has happened. Today he is hurting because his mother isn't there to hug him and bake him a cake and sing him the stupid "Happy Birthday" song in person rather than by voice mail on his dad's phone because he isn't with his dad, he's with his aunt, who I'm apparently not allowed to have contact information about. Yes, I'm a bit bitter and angry to go with the depression I can't seem to avoid on holidays and birthdays no matter how much I try. I'm not depressed for me, I'm depressed for them. I'm not angry at God, I'm angry at myself, at the stupid weakness that put me in a position to miss all of the important moments that are happening in my children's.

In a way, I'm still missing. I'm missing four huge pieces of my heart. They're in Michigan, where I can't be right now. They're in a household where I'm not welcome. They are my children.

Curiosity Did NOT Kill the Cat (Contrary to Popular Belief)!!

We all know how curious children (and cats apparently, though I can say from experience that nobody beats puppies for crazy curiosity. "Oooo, that dog is 1000x bigger than me. I should really check him/her out!" "Oooo, something made a scary noise! I'll jump and be scared for a second, then go and see if it's an axe murderer or something even more interesting!" "SQUIRREL!!!!" Curiosity may have killed the dog rather than the cat. Cats tend to have a much higher sense of self preservation than my puppy. If cats have nine lives, dogs should have like 90. They'd go through them before they turn 1, I'm sure of it. Now where was I? Oh, yeah....) tend to be. That's because the world is such a mystery to them. Every second of every day is something new. Even if it's something that's been experienced before, it's never exactly the same twice. Now, imagine going through that same feeling of intense curiosity with all of your adult cognition and recognition abilities. Ahhhhh, welcome to my world, my friends!!  So lovely to see you again!

Facebook "Like" Button Doesn't "Like" Me

So, the Facebook "Like" button I added to the blog is not connecting you to my FB page I set up.  If you want to like the page to receive notice of blog updates in your newsfeed, go to the Amnesiacs Journey page on Facebook and like me there.  Sorry about the mix up, but I had to input the code in HTTP by hand to make it work and obviously my less-than-savvy technological knowhow got the better of me.  I'll look into getting it fixed on the morrow.

Update: All better now. "Like" away my fine friends (and strangers.)

Away From Home

I love staying the weekend at my sister's house.  Just like I loved being up in Michigan by myself. Most of you may be thinking "Well, of course you like being away from your parents. Your 33 years old, for pities sake. You need to get away before they drive you into pulling a Dr. Scratchansniff." (Actually, you're probably not saying that since most of you probably don't know who Dr. Scratchansniff is. Although if that's the case, I'm very disappointed in you. Didn't any of you watch Animaniacs. He's the P-sychiatrist who pulls all his hair out the first time he deals with Yakko, Wakko, and Dot. Still not ringing any bells? Fine, just watch this clip. Challenge of the day...imagine my dad and Wakko in a room together and try not to laugh.)