There is something wrong with my mind. More precisely, my memory. I have been one who could recall names, places, faces, and facts without any trouble. It was like my mind was a rolodex and all I had to do was give it a spin and I would land on just the right information every time. Yet lately it seems likes these mundane facts have left me coming up empty.
The one that frightens me the most is facts and details of things I myself have created, yet cannot recall. For whatever reason I started recounting all of the different “lands” I’ve created while writing stories, and I could remember all except one. To this very minute I still cannot tell you what the name of it is, and for this particular series I fleshed out an entire thousand year history that culimanated into the events of my short story turned novel. At one time that was something I knew in intricate detail. Now I can’t even tell you where all of this fictional bullshit took place.
I am aware of how overdramatic I sound. This is not a real cause for concern. But dealing with my mother’s rapid slide into dementia, I have become hypser sensitive over the slightest change in my own memory recall. It leaves me asking am I too going to suffer from this disease? Or worse, is this something external that is not only fueling my mother’s memory loss but now having an affect on me?
I am sure the answer to this is a simple one. My sudden missing mental notes are due to either age or just overall stress. Lately I have come under a lot in regards to my dad’s sudden an unexpected death, and my mother’s mental collapse and unrelated health issues. I’m sure (and hope) that once all of these things have calmed and my mind is at peace these details will return to me and I will be just as sharp with my mundane facts as I ever was.