I saw a coworker feverishly writing into a notebook the other day. She said that she has been writing down every movie she's ever seen with her own little critiques carefully labeled for years. Just a quirk she has that she has been doing over the years to keep her writing skills sharp and memory keen.
I started my own document last year, not of movies, but of memories. I know the day is going to come, as it will for all of us, when our memories will fade; the time on the beach when I picked pink shells, or the party where I lost my favorite scarf because I was a dancing butterfly. I'm not ready to accept this and neither should you. In order to combat my fear, and perhaps revisit my happy memories, I've started a document detailing whatever memory comes to mind I don't want to forget. I am so meticulous with it down to colors of things, smells, you name it, it's written down. They've become happy little short stories I cherish when I have days that aren't so bright. I mean, hello, look at this blog! Talk about writing your story down!
It's comforting knowing that your story is written down. It warms me to read through my memories, including this blog. Call it validation of I was here or simply, just a hug from your mind to let you know, hey, look at what you've done! Either way, I'm happy I am doing it.
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Showing posts with label Memory. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Memory. Show all posts
Tuesday, July 18, 2017
Tuesday, August 16, 2016
The Struggles Of The Supermarket
I have to laugh...
I treat a trip to the supermarket like I'm going to the mall. I don't know why. I just love going to the supermarket. Is it the music? The way I'm fascinated by new labels and things stacked perfectly and in size order? I don't know. I usually make a list of what I need. I don't take more than I can carry. I usually use my dominant arm to carry heavy things but also use this as an exercise to put a little more weight on my strokie side.
I have an obsession with canned beans. I like to be prepared. I always buy a can when I shop. The thought process behind this can only be attributed to when Hurricane Sandy rendered so many of us without access to food for a few days because all the supermarkets in the area lost power. Since then, I always make sure I am stocked on beans, rice, pasta and pasta sauce.
The past few trips I've gone to the supermarket, I've forgotten that I already have rice. Let me say that again. I already have rice. Like a lot of rice. Like maybe 3lbs of rice. Maybe I should stop buying rice. Eljon, stop buying rice BUT every time I go to the supermarket, I somehow have temporary memory loss and think, "Huh, I think I need rice." Now I have about 7lbs of rice in my kitchen cabinet. I have to laugh...Sometimes, we have to just giggle. Our memory banks are wired differently now yes, and that can be sad...but sometimes, when you look into your kitchen cabinet and see a little something extra, you have to laugh. Embrace the little quirks that are you, that are NOW you. It makes it a little easier when getting to know the new strokie you.
Be well.
I treat a trip to the supermarket like I'm going to the mall. I don't know why. I just love going to the supermarket. Is it the music? The way I'm fascinated by new labels and things stacked perfectly and in size order? I don't know. I usually make a list of what I need. I don't take more than I can carry. I usually use my dominant arm to carry heavy things but also use this as an exercise to put a little more weight on my strokie side.
I have an obsession with canned beans. I like to be prepared. I always buy a can when I shop. The thought process behind this can only be attributed to when Hurricane Sandy rendered so many of us without access to food for a few days because all the supermarkets in the area lost power. Since then, I always make sure I am stocked on beans, rice, pasta and pasta sauce.
The past few trips I've gone to the supermarket, I've forgotten that I already have rice. Let me say that again. I already have rice. Like a lot of rice. Like maybe 3lbs of rice. Maybe I should stop buying rice. Eljon, stop buying rice BUT every time I go to the supermarket, I somehow have temporary memory loss and think, "Huh, I think I need rice." Now I have about 7lbs of rice in my kitchen cabinet. I have to laugh...Sometimes, we have to just giggle. Our memory banks are wired differently now yes, and that can be sad...but sometimes, when you look into your kitchen cabinet and see a little something extra, you have to laugh. Embrace the little quirks that are you, that are NOW you. It makes it a little easier when getting to know the new strokie you.
Be well.
Tuesday, December 16, 2014
Holiday Memories And Keeping Those You Love Close
Around this time of year, families get together to embrace one another and celebrate the Holidays. For one or two days, everyone is in the same room, everyone is a unit. After every bit of food has been consumed and folks are getting ready to say goodbye, people have the same thought, "We should do this more often" or "I'll see you soon" and then those good intentions melt away and we drift to the hustle and bustle that is working and trying to stay afloat.
My Godfather passed away in April. I only have one memory of how he looked. We met when I was 21 years old, newly graduated, in a Starbucks in Lincoln Center. He was in from Vermont where he lived with his partner. He was wearing a three piece grey suit and greeted me with a smile I can still see if I close my eyes. My Godfather was an amazing man-a professor beloved by hundreds of friends (literally), a writer, and an accomplished concert violinist who spoke 6 languages! I heard much of this from hearing stories my Father told me of how he met him and how close the families were. When I was growing up, I always wondered why he didn't reach out to me, why I hadn't seen him or spoken to him on the phone but I didn't linger on that thought, I had stories to keep his memory alive. When I turned 21, my Godfather sent me a typed letter apologizing for his absence and suggested we meet in person for a long overdue hug. Since then, we sent each other cards, mine always handwritten, his always typed and signed with a fountain pen. I sent pictures and drawings over the years and provided him with news about my Dad and Grandmother. Whenever my Dad was in NY, he would call my Godfather's NY apartment in the hopes that Godfather might be visiting and they could catch up. Then, he started to email me. Oh technology!
One day before Superstorm Sandy, my Grandmother passed. I sent him an email. Rather than respond via that, he sent his last typed letter signed with that same fountain pen. Because of the weather, I missed the funeral in Grenada. Godfather's letter was one of the only things that comforted my Father and I during that sad time. He wrote about her so beautifully citing memories that seemed so crisp they happened yesterday. This summer, I sent him an email but he didn't respond. In my head, I imagined that he was on a European tour with his partner Jorge, or on an adventure somewhere he would tell me about in his response but, no email came. I started to think about the inevitable, his passing, but I couldn't bring myself to google his name right away. The thought of losing this man who I basically communicated with through letter and email most of my adult life scared and saddened me.
I found out Godfather passed away in April of this year. I was so angry with myself. Why didn't I send an email earlier? Why didn't I reach out? More importantly, why wasn't I told or able to go to the funeral to say goodbye? It seemed that even in death, I wasn't even given the chance to see him in person one more time. I gave my Dad the news and he was as broken up as I was. Luckily, my Godfather's partner's email address was on my his obituary. I emailed Jorge my condolences. Here was a man who I had only heard about on paper but seemed so alive through my Godfather's descriptions of him, I felt like I knew him. He immediately sent me a response apologizing for the oversight of the funeral. My Godfather passed from leukemia and it took him very fast.
After our exchange, I hoped to have some closure but I felt even more sad. Whenever someone passes, you always ask yourself the question "What if?" and go back to the "We should do this more often. I'll see you soon!" statement you made a few months prior. Days later, I received another email. Jorge had found a folder with all the letters and exchanges I had with my Godfather over the years, over 13 years of correspondence! He told me how proud he was of me and how he loved me. While I would have rather heard this when he was alive, this has given me exactly what I needed-to know that he saw me, that we did know each other, even though from afar. Today, he is on my mind. The first day of Hannukah marks the day I would have sent him a handwritten Holiday card. Perhaps I will send him an email. Even though I know I won't get one back, it doesn't feel right to break from tradition.
I don't want this to sound like a hold your loved ones close and be thankful post and maybe it doesn't but hold your loved ones close and be thankful. You never know when the time will come when you can't say what you always wanted to but thought, it's ok...next time.
My Godfather passed away in April. I only have one memory of how he looked. We met when I was 21 years old, newly graduated, in a Starbucks in Lincoln Center. He was in from Vermont where he lived with his partner. He was wearing a three piece grey suit and greeted me with a smile I can still see if I close my eyes. My Godfather was an amazing man-a professor beloved by hundreds of friends (literally), a writer, and an accomplished concert violinist who spoke 6 languages! I heard much of this from hearing stories my Father told me of how he met him and how close the families were. When I was growing up, I always wondered why he didn't reach out to me, why I hadn't seen him or spoken to him on the phone but I didn't linger on that thought, I had stories to keep his memory alive. When I turned 21, my Godfather sent me a typed letter apologizing for his absence and suggested we meet in person for a long overdue hug. Since then, we sent each other cards, mine always handwritten, his always typed and signed with a fountain pen. I sent pictures and drawings over the years and provided him with news about my Dad and Grandmother. Whenever my Dad was in NY, he would call my Godfather's NY apartment in the hopes that Godfather might be visiting and they could catch up. Then, he started to email me. Oh technology!
One day before Superstorm Sandy, my Grandmother passed. I sent him an email. Rather than respond via that, he sent his last typed letter signed with that same fountain pen. Because of the weather, I missed the funeral in Grenada. Godfather's letter was one of the only things that comforted my Father and I during that sad time. He wrote about her so beautifully citing memories that seemed so crisp they happened yesterday. This summer, I sent him an email but he didn't respond. In my head, I imagined that he was on a European tour with his partner Jorge, or on an adventure somewhere he would tell me about in his response but, no email came. I started to think about the inevitable, his passing, but I couldn't bring myself to google his name right away. The thought of losing this man who I basically communicated with through letter and email most of my adult life scared and saddened me.
I found out Godfather passed away in April of this year. I was so angry with myself. Why didn't I send an email earlier? Why didn't I reach out? More importantly, why wasn't I told or able to go to the funeral to say goodbye? It seemed that even in death, I wasn't even given the chance to see him in person one more time. I gave my Dad the news and he was as broken up as I was. Luckily, my Godfather's partner's email address was on my his obituary. I emailed Jorge my condolences. Here was a man who I had only heard about on paper but seemed so alive through my Godfather's descriptions of him, I felt like I knew him. He immediately sent me a response apologizing for the oversight of the funeral. My Godfather passed from leukemia and it took him very fast.
After our exchange, I hoped to have some closure but I felt even more sad. Whenever someone passes, you always ask yourself the question "What if?" and go back to the "We should do this more often. I'll see you soon!" statement you made a few months prior. Days later, I received another email. Jorge had found a folder with all the letters and exchanges I had with my Godfather over the years, over 13 years of correspondence! He told me how proud he was of me and how he loved me. While I would have rather heard this when he was alive, this has given me exactly what I needed-to know that he saw me, that we did know each other, even though from afar. Today, he is on my mind. The first day of Hannukah marks the day I would have sent him a handwritten Holiday card. Perhaps I will send him an email. Even though I know I won't get one back, it doesn't feel right to break from tradition.
I don't want this to sound like a hold your loved ones close and be thankful post and maybe it doesn't but hold your loved ones close and be thankful. You never know when the time will come when you can't say what you always wanted to but thought, it's ok...next time.
Wednesday, March 20, 2013
Daddy's Girl
My mind is still in vacation mode because I just got back from a trip to Grenada. He lives there and I LOVE going to visit him because it's Daddy daughter time. This was the first trip I took to Grenada by myself post stroke where we really had one on one time together. Before I left, I tried to plan everything out in my mind of what we would do if he took enough time off work from trips to the country down to what I wanted him to cook for dinners at home (the man could be on Iron Chef). Throughout the trip, I was very tickled by everything he did because I saw myself in him, especially with things pertaining to memory. He would always say things like "Remind me of this..." when I'm not likely to remember and I would say the same to him. This might make someone sad but it did just the opposite for me. This was an AWESOME bonding experience. Here is someone who I didn't have to tell to not turn the knobs tight because I wouldn't be able to open them or that I couldn't speak much at times because I was too tired to sound proper. It was unspoken and understood and just wonderful. Thanks stroke for bringing me closer to my father.
I continuously find small little things to thank the stroke for and this is one of them. Is that kind of messed up? Shouldn't that not be the case?! It has to make me laugh, you know? Right now, I wish I could sound more coherent about this experience but the only way I can express how much of a profound effect this trip had on me is to just tell you to look at the picture above. My face says it all.
I love my Dad. :)
Thursday, February 14, 2013
Valentine's Day Post
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| Chocolate Covered Strawberry From My Dog |
Not quite a stroke post but considering the day, I thought I would share a few of my Valentine's Day memories of years past.
Growing up, my Father was my first Valentine. Every year, no matter what, he would always make me feel like the most awesome person in the world. Flowers and chocolate every year and sometimes a stuffed bear. As I got older, he could have chosen to take a backseat but still remained ever vigilant at making sure I knew that I was his girl. Today he called me bright and early this morning to wish me a Happy VD. Even though he doesn't live in this country anymore, he still manages to make me feel just as special.
Growing up, my Father was my first Valentine. Every year, no matter what, he would always make me feel like the most awesome person in the world. Flowers and chocolate every year and sometimes a stuffed bear. As I got older, he could have chosen to take a backseat but still remained ever vigilant at making sure I knew that I was his girl. Today he called me bright and early this morning to wish me a Happy VD. Even though he doesn't live in this country anymore, he still manages to make me feel just as special.
I went to an all girls High School so Valentine's Day was interesting to say the least. I would look out the window from the 5th floor at around 12 and see at least 50 guys waiting patiently dressed in red and holding flowers, candy, stuffed animals, for their sweeties to come down at 2:30pm. They would all stand behind the police barricade heavily guarded by nuns and make small talk with each other. First off, why weren't these boys also in school?? Anyway, I digress.
I never was one of the girls who had a sweetie waiting outside the school doors on V day but it was just interesting to watch the reaction of these girls. They squealed and jumped on their boyfriends but...again, why aren't you in school??? I even recall some girls getting flowers delivered to classes. That definitely got shut down by the Mother Superior and we received a stern warning over the loudspeaker one year.
It's times like these when I wish digital cameras existed. I would have loved to have a record of all that went on those days.
Anywho, Happy Valentine's Day! I'm glad I still have those memories locked away in the old hippocampus to share. :)
Monday, February 11, 2013
My Thought For Today
But what can you do? I can't hold onto the past. I can just learn from it. Thank you again for reading and being a part of my journey.
I'm almost at 20,000 hits. Thank you for helping to spread the word about preventing strokes!
Monday, November 26, 2012
I Get Frustrated When...
I get frustrated when I say I can't remember something and someone says "I remember things when I was a little girl and you can't remember something from 3 years ago?"
I respond "It's not my fault. I had a stroke."
The person's response is always "There you go with the stroke."
It's not an excuse, it's MY REALITY. I get sick of people saying "There you go with the stroke." I can't remember!
I think it's sometimes hard for people to accept that I am a changed person and that certain things don't come as easily to me as they would to others especially for those who didn't go through recovery with me. I know it can be difficult to accept that a person who you have known your whole life has gone through a brain injury but, it's just as hard for us to not have our feelings hurt when you say things like that. It's enough that I have moments of private pain from this, I don't need friends or family saying things like that to cause more.
I guess what I'm trying to say is that I wish some folks were a bit more sensitive, that's all.
This is my gripe for the night :)
Thursday, November 8, 2012
I Am
And can't remember
Because my brain shorts out,
Sometimes,
Think, think, think,
To no avail,
I can't remember
That person's name,
Sometimes,
Please don't get mad,
I forget,
Sometimes,
And mean no harm,
It's not that you were easy to forget,
It's that you were easy to remember
At the time but
Sometimes,
I can't recall anything,
Don't think me dumb,
I just can't put my finger on it,
Sometimes,
Even though I try
Very very hard,
That grey cloud covers the answer,
Sometimes,
But it's still me,
Just sometimes forgetful,
Still me,
Still here,
Still me.
Sunday, February 27, 2011
Just One Of Those Days?
Yesterday was a particularly bad day for my memory. I forgot a slew of things.
I went to the ATM and forgot my pin and stood in the bank for about 20 minutes trying all types of combinations. I stopped after the 4th time for fear that cops or something would show up and arrest me for suspicion or something. I still can't remember my pin.
Earlier in the week, I ordered tea after dining with a friend and two seconds later, couldn't remember what flavor I got. I was very surprised when the waitress brought me peppermint.
I left my phone at home. I never leave my phone at home. When I realized I didn't have it, I panicked and thought I lost it and was pretty much nervous for three hours until I got home and saw it in the charger.
I forgot to make an important call. I forgot about something my Mom told me. I just plain left my brain somewhere else yesterday and everyone is telling me that it happens to everyone, that everyone has a day like that once in awhile and normally I wouldn't think anything of it but I had a stroke, I had a brain injury and I get scared. I'm scared now. What if it's not just one of those days? What if it's a sign of something else? Am I losing myself? I feel like it...but I could just be getting nervous over nothing. All I know is that I feel pretty low about forgetting all those little things. Today should be better, right? I mean, I remembered to write it all down today...that's good, right?
I went to the ATM and forgot my pin and stood in the bank for about 20 minutes trying all types of combinations. I stopped after the 4th time for fear that cops or something would show up and arrest me for suspicion or something. I still can't remember my pin.
Earlier in the week, I ordered tea after dining with a friend and two seconds later, couldn't remember what flavor I got. I was very surprised when the waitress brought me peppermint.
I left my phone at home. I never leave my phone at home. When I realized I didn't have it, I panicked and thought I lost it and was pretty much nervous for three hours until I got home and saw it in the charger.
I forgot to make an important call. I forgot about something my Mom told me. I just plain left my brain somewhere else yesterday and everyone is telling me that it happens to everyone, that everyone has a day like that once in awhile and normally I wouldn't think anything of it but I had a stroke, I had a brain injury and I get scared. I'm scared now. What if it's not just one of those days? What if it's a sign of something else? Am I losing myself? I feel like it...but I could just be getting nervous over nothing. All I know is that I feel pretty low about forgetting all those little things. Today should be better, right? I mean, I remembered to write it all down today...that's good, right?
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