Such a weird revelation. I remember a decade ago telling Keith when I had met him, that I had difficulty remembering things because I had tried to forget something bad, and as a result I had forgotten a whole chunk of experiences around that time. So the experience of losing memory was familiar to me, yet I cannot recount the actual incidents themselves.
I know the first time I realized there was a huge chunk missing was shortly after I arrived in the Philippines, I had escaped from “Brian” the pimp, and although I recounted him on several occasions, I suffered great distress on occasion until finally I forgot everything. I never mentioned him again, until Gary showed up on the internet asking me what had happened to me, and why I had left England.
Strangely, he had asked specifically about certain events that we had shared together, and as a result something that was locked away unfurled straight in this journal, and then about two weeks later - I felt huge relief like something I was hiding was gone.
But I didn’t know I was hiding it.
I didn’t know how much grief and guilt and shame was stuck inside. Somehow my brain through enough angst and pain, had literally severed the pathway back to those events, and I never dreamt about them or thought about them again. Until gary of course.
The incident of him calling up out of the blue was so jolting, I remember my brain feeling fucked up for days afterwards, and literally some shit I didn’t want to remember came back, and it was just as gross, but somehow I felt clean again, like I had purged it from the system. There was no need to carry a secret I never wanted anymore.
Has the same thing happened again?
My boxes have been packed for the last 6 months, but some of them were packed upon hastily escaping Austria from the boyfriend/boss. And going back further, some boxes were still packed from our arrival TO AUSTRIA. the problem is, I can’t tell which boxes apart, and the objects within I have absolutely no memory of or how I got them. So I’m going through boxes wondering how much more memory have I lost? Does it go back further than here in the US? Am I missing a huge chunk from Austria also? And before that?
I rubbed my finger the other day and realized I had no wedding ring. I freaked out thinking I had lost it somewhere. But I haven’t worn it in 7 years. And I don’t remember WHY I didn’t get a replacement? Did Keith not care? Did he not submit it to insurance? I know he was angry with me because I have memories of searching for my ring for three days early in the morning at the beach meeting with a metal detector guy. But no luck, other peoples rings and iPhones and GoPros showed up. But nothing came of my ring. And I don’t know what was said between Keith and I in the aftermath.
Infact, Keith is not wearing a wedding ring either. And I don’t know when that happened. Pretty sure he was before the thing in Austria, but not since.
So, if one tries to forget something and it comes with much much pain and anguish, memory does infact go away, but not just the bits one wants. While years evaporate.
And if I decide to ignore Keith, then this explains now why I simply don’t know he is talking AT ME (or to me but it feels more like AT ME, like he’s a dictator or something lol). Has my brain selectively put Keith on mute? But, at work I still suffer not understanding people, I know this is a thing now because I’ve become brave and instead of looking at people dumbly. I look at people dumbly AND ASK them to clarify what they just said. I am becoming annoying I expect, but I really struggle at work sometimes to understand people. Like, I cannot hold onto the garbage they come out with long enough to figure out what they were saying.
In many ways, I’m wondering if Keith is the source of a lot of my fucked up brain. Because I definitely do find him triggering to say the least, only NOW, HE KNOWS. So he has adapted and is behaving differently, for now.
And something else, work, is literally CHANGING the way my thinking patterns behave, it’s so difficult to explain because I don’t think people are aware of their own thinking style. I will try to figure out a way of making this relatable.
Going back as far as I can remember, I have struggled to be anything but a messy person. There is always clutter, and I hate it, so I make excuses that I prefer it that way - but no I don’t, I’m just saying it because my body and mind are physically and mentally so exhausted I haven’t had the energy or motivation to clean up after myself. The thing that has changed is pride.
I am now taking pride in myself. I know I have a role o play at work, it feels like my forever job, I feel valued and respected and I have dignity.
Santa brings me cookies and candies most days I get him dressed for work. The dancers like me. The stunts people brag to me about tricks they can do. Colleagues come to me for advice. I have a whole clan of neuro-diverse weirdos who all feel weird but are infact beautifully interesting and fascinating people.
Some people have dissappointed me. But I am forced to lower my bar of expectation. What I push myself to do is by no means a tool to measure others. I am not normal, and comparing my own expectations to what others deliver is just unfair. Infact, I realize now that there are some pretty low standards and I am more of a perfectionist who is “trying to compromise” instead of miserably failing and giving up.
The problem with my mess, is that I know it starts from inside. I want perfect order around me, detailed details, stacking, colours, sizes, everything perfectly folded. And even though there is a Disney regulation means of folding, most people fold clothes up into what I call “potatoes”. Which can’t be stacked 10 high. And maybe that’s laziness or stupidness, but I’ve learned there is no such thing as laziness. People do not want to be lazy. People want to be valued, laziness is not a goal but a symptom of being undervalued or depressed about not feeling like goals are reachable, or a loss of hope.
People are never lazy. No one at work is lazy or stupid. I disappoint myself not they disappoint me, because I expect so much from myself when others fail to do so, I am wrong for judging them. INFACT, Victoria told me she was crashing after performer strike, and knowing what that feels like, I told her what crashing feels like for me, and that I have psychiatric help and medication to deal with it. She then asked for a referral.
People don’t want to be lazy. Taking a break when needed isn’t lazy, it’s taking care of oneself. So I notice now that when gossips try to bitch about someone, I am voicing concern instead they maybe in some kind of difficulty, as my experience of fighting crashing symptoms has taught me, I never wanted to be lazy. So I can relate to those hiding in the aisles pretending to be busy.