Memories….I Have Them

Lately, I’ve been thinking about how memory works. As I get older, I am intrigued by what I – and others – remember.  I want to hold on to those memories and keep them safe.
I am terrified of losing them.

My mind is something I hold dear. I can see daily, through my grandparents especially, how keeping an active mind will allow me to stay sharp, capable, present. I have also seen what can happen if that activity wanes, or is hindered by too much medication. That life, a life where the real and unreal intertwine and confuse, terrifies me.
Part of that fear stems from the fact that, as of right now, I’m looking at old age alone. That may sound like a negative attitude, but it isn’t. I’m just saying that, at this moment, I don’t have a significant other, I don’t have children. For me to wait on those pieces, or to plan as if I’ll have them, is, well, dumb. That’s why I don’t mind going places alone. Sure, it can be more fun with others, and I’m fortunate that I have great friends who go with me…sometimes…but if I waited to do things with others, I’d not get to do a lot of the things I want to.
You’d be surprised at how many people think that my going off alone is impressive. It’s not, really. It’s just how it has to be. I refuse to let opportunities pass by because I’d have to go at it alone. I am alone (to a degree – again, amazing family and friends. I’m sure if push came to shove, they’d go with me).

Back to memories. The bad thing about going alone is that there isn’t someone to share that memory. You have it. It’s there in your beautiful brain – filed away for future viewing – but that’s the only place it’s located. That’s part of the appeal of Facebook and Instagram to me: memories in permanent storage. Once its online, it is online…right?

Well, I’ve made a decision. I am going to start writing down my memories. I’m going to start with my first memory and just write as many down as possible. When someone shares a memory that has become hazy to me, I’m going to write it down. Before with journals/diaries, I’ve written down how I was feeling about people, things, moments and I believed that where I’ve failed in keeping up with those endeavors. No one wants to hold on to bad feelings and, unfortunately, I was really, REALLY, sad for quite some time. Looking back at those notes, I don’t recognize that person that was so hurt, that felt so unloved, that they were willing to accept that chronic melancholy in order to not be alone. No wonder I stopped writing in them. They are as depressing as Hell!
Thank (deity of your choice) that I snapped out of it. Nothing is worth that…nothing…life is too much of an experience.

So, for myself, I am going to open my River Song journal (an awesome Christmas gift), and start writing. I’ll put them all in there – good memories, bad memories, as many memories as possible. It will be full of memories big and small! I’m looking at this as an exercise for this beautiful brain of mine. I jog, lift (tiny) weights, to make my body better, why not make a regimen for the grey matter?!

Let’s get started: Bobby and I are playing under the dining room table when he hit his head. Guess who got blamed?!

image Hello, Sweetie

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