Thursday, January 26, 2012


(Written 5/3/11- Only now getting published... fits with what I'm trying to do right now)

I can't remember.

And it pisses me off.

You know when you wake from a dream and it's so clear when you first wake... but the more time passes the more completely it fades until you're left with just an echo of emotion and maybe, just maybe a shadow of what the hell seemed so intense only hours before?

That's January 1999-2005. The only reason I remember anything from those years is because I started blogging in 2002. I can read through the entries and get some pictures of what I wrote... sometimes even pictures of what the others wrote... but overall, it's a fog.

I have no basis for what's normal. I'm certain no one remembers every detail of every day. I'm sure much of life is reduced to highlight reels as the years go by... but SO much happened in those years and most of it is contained in someone else's notes. Crane and Lyn have more of a written record of my life than I have... and I'm not sure I really have the guts to ask.

I sit down to write in The Crew diary only to end up playing video games or randomly surfing the net. I can remember endless amounts of useless bits of trivia... recall them in an instant. I can walk through a room with a television on and if I've seen it or even heard it, I can identify what's on screen often without even looking.

That questionable 'talent' makes Charlie nuts. I can remember names and dates and even story lines of things I saw on screen as a toddler but I can't remember exactly why I ended up in emergency rooms and psych units as recently as 8 years ago. I can vividly recall the emotions at seeing my young kids and wondering who they were and where they'd come from when I was pretty sure I was still a teenager and where the hell did the years go? I remember episodes of "I Love Lucy" better than I do my own life.

And I'm frustrated.

I want to be able to pick a month and remember with some degree of clarity SOMETHING that happened but it's like chasing a mirage.

I hate the idea of asking others to tell me about my own freaking life.

I want to remember and I no longer care if I have to sob and snot and hyperventilate my way through writing them out... I want to be able to look back at a period of life and know it was more than a dream that has slipped away.

Life is not meant to be lived in a fog.


1 comment:

  1. Too familiar...
    Although I have to say, I'm a tad envious that there is someone you can ask. Don't get me wrong; I totally get the emotions behind that, too. But there are times I wish there was someone I could ask. I feel like Alice Cullen most of the time...


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