Remember the Little Things

Remembering that I can't remember is lonely-frightening-exhilarating. Following a seizure, my memory comes flowing back like tangled hair. The answer to a mundane question like, "Did I change the cat box?" can return in a thick mat of detail. More annoyingly (and commonly), the memory floats back like a single strand that has to be followed until enough can be gathered together get a sense of the color and texture. Whether a clump or a single strand, the seizure took a run of the mill memory a puzzle and a challenge.

Consequently I'm learning to become a detective gathering clues about myself. For example, a "To Do" list can help avoid forgetting errands, which when completed transforms the list into a certificate of merit. Recalling tasks that are too menial to even make it onto the list shouldn't inspire. Celebrating that I've remembered a triviality like "check your voicemail" becomes a secret success. But it is a lonely pleasure. Who can get excited about. "I remembered where I've hung my keys for the last two years!" or "Hear that noise? It is a cell phone ring. I have a new cell phone. I know that ringtone! That is my phone!"? These are private triumphs that become secret triumphs that become lonely triumphs.

Even if another person can appreciate and enjoy such a menial triumph, the next breath asks is their reaction genuine. Even with one's heart in the right place, a grown woman begins to feels like an infant when the adult equivalent of clutching a rattle gets trumpeted like it was one of the great moments in human history.

So these little mnemonic triumphs are entirely mine. There is the exhilaration of untangling the mystery of a missing memory. Success cannot really be shared--it is too trivial to warrant anything but the most insincere excitement. So even when happy with my discovery, I am reminded of how epilepsy creates a lonely place. Being alone with your success without incentive to share it, is isolating. Isolation leaves us alone to face our triumphs, fears and failures--no advisors, no internet, no faces on which to read a reaction. Remembering the mundane--"Did I wear this shirt yesterday? No. Where did I put the shampoo when I cleaned the bathtub? Under the sink. What day of the week is it? Friday"--becomes split second emotional roller coaster.

Hooray I remembered!
How could I have forgotten?
When will I forget again?
Will I be able to remember next time?