Vacations.

I was talking to my hubby today and realized something. It would be so much cheaper to send him to all the places I want to visit with a camcorder. He could go, take photos and videos, and come back with the memories. He could then proceed to lie to me that I was there. I honestly would never know the difference. It would save so much much - half price!

He didn't find that funny in the very least. I'm not sure if I should feel loved or ashamed. Actually my feelings are messed up often and I question how I should be feeling at times. It happens.

I'm still without the miracle medicine, so I'm lucky if I remember a day or so. If it's something repetitive - seeing the kids daily, using my new cell phone daily, etc - I tend to accept those things. If I look at them closely, though, that's when the issues start. I can't tell you when I got my cell. If I'm having a bad day, I won't even realize it's a cell phone. But for the most part, I can make things work, as long as it's a constant, daily reminder.

So back to vacations. I mean, seriously, what's the point of taking me on them? I don't remember them. I doubt people when they tell me that I truly was somewhere. I have no picturesque moment in my head to call upon. I look at items that I don't know where they came from. I'm then informed I got them on a vacation. Huh, go figure. It's not something that I can look upon and say, "Why, yes! I do remember buying this at that little shop." That doesn't happen. I don't even remember leaving the state, let alone a little shop and buying something from there.

So why bother?

I'll tell you why.

Because I want to. Because some day, some little thing, may just stick in my brain. I may wake up one day and remember a moment or a view, or a feeling from one of those vacations. Yeah, it's unlikely to happen, but it may. And I don't want to even take a chance that I'd be passing it up because I was feeling sorry for myself.

Yep. Someday I'm going to go to Ireland. And I might come back. ;-)

Telling People

Telling people about my injury is not something I enjoy doing. I feel shame and embarrassment. I wonder what they are thinking. I hate when they reply with, "I'm sorry." For what? They didn't cause it. It's just who I am. I don't wear it on me, but at times I think maybe I should. Maybe if I wore it as a medal, more people would understand. Would learn. Would give me more leeway when I'm not okay.

It's strange. It leaves me feeling sad for myself. I hate it.

I still hate the memory messages that seem to cover my homepage on Facebook daily. "Hold memories close." "remember these days", etc. It drives me up a wall. I want to post on each and everyone "I can't!!" Instead, I sit here, daydreaming of posting that, and just move on.

It sucks.

Trudging Along

I'm still trudging along in life. It irritates me that I can hardly recall anything. I find myself angry when something is brought up and I cannot recall it. I have taken to asking people to just stop - when they begin explaining what I can no longer recall. It bothers me to my very core.

I question why I'm here. Apparently, I've done that a lot since it first happened, though. Now, it is a constant thing.

I had a dream that I actually wrote a novel. I wrote a full novel and was so proud - but no one would take the time to read it. They all acted as if I was some poor sap and they couldn't waste their time on me.

That's how I feel at times. When people assume I should know something. I am well aware that I had an injury. I'm well aware that I can't remember things. Most of the time during conversations I find myself smiling and shaking my head - even though in my mind I am only thinking "what are they talking about?" It all adds up to making me depressed. I feel as if life is passing by, people are learning, growing, moving on. I'm sitting here, looking out the window to the bare trees, wondering if I'll ever make anything of myself.

I have thought of trying college again. I just fear it would end up being too much stress (which means more lost memories) or impossible for me to retain the information. If, by some slim chance, I could wade my way through it, where would that lead? Back to where I'm at? I know I wouldn't retain the information for very long. Could I even remember getting a degree? Could I ever remember having a job if I were to be lucky enough to have one offered to me? Or would it all be a waste of money and time? Most likely the latter, for several reasons.

I have found that certain memories, while I cannot recall them, will pull up some sort of emotion within me. Anotherwards, someone mentions Florida - I feel: pride, love, heat exhaustion, fear, joy, excitement. I also get the impression of being surrounded by my family. But to pull out single memories or things, forget it.  From what I can tell, we did  have two family vacations. I look at the photos here and they mean nothing. I don't remember being there. I don't remember the kids smiling or riding that ride. I don't remember petting dolphins with my kids. I, though, do feel feelings. They must be the feelings I had during those trips. They can be overwhelming at times and just bring me down even more. I want to know the memories that go along with those feelings. Yet, they are not to be found.

If my feelings are there, are the memories there? Can I just not reach them? Could the pathways that lead to the memories be broken, but the feelings that go with them, their pathways are not? I don't know. If I was told, I probably won't remember.