I have noticed recently that I am getting more forgetful. Not in a dissociative sense, I’m kind of used to that. But in a more general, absent minded way. So far today I have almost left a bag of shopping behind, forgotten to buy some cards I need, misplaced several pens, and failed to buy anything for my tea – K is eating out with Young Carers.
Add that to the more dissociative forgetfulness – not knowing what day it is despite checking twice earlier, having no idea whether I was about to take or have already taken a dose of painkillers, going to make a mug of tea only to find one freshly made, and finding myself with my coat on and shoes off with no idea if I was going out or coming in and you can see it’s been one of those days.
Ironically, the only things I can’t forget are the ones I actively would like to forget. Thanks for that, brain.
I am unable to forget what hurt me, who hurt me, to erase the past and pretend it never happened. Even the things I don’t remember myself, my parts can remember. If only I (we) could remember the important day to day stuff.
Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to buy something for my tea.