I’m sipping my coffee and thinking about brain damage. Specifically, one of the consequences (for me, of mine) and the way I have (and do) cope with it – poor memory. It’s not that the memories don’t get into “long-term storage” at all, it’s more that “my file system is corrupted” and I have difficulty retrieving them – or recognizing they are still available. Having an object or photo associated with an event has long been my preferred strategy for dealing with that. Handling something as mundane as a rock picked up on a beach can do so much to help me recall that day, that beach, that memory… Without the rock? No recollection. Same with pictures; a picture of a particular dewy rose brings to mind that specific spring morning, a walk after a rainstorm, the scents of the flowers all around, the feel of the sunshine in that moment – and even the thoughts I was thinking at the time. No picture? No memory. This coping strategy, unfortunately, has a noteworthy downside. Clutter. Mementos that are meaningless to anyone but me, and lacking in any intrinsic value.

Yesterday evening my Traveling Partner delighted me with a (second) new earring rack for all my many (many, soooo many) pairs of earrings, so that they can be more organized, and available at a glance. So convenient. It’s too much to put them all in the bathroom, though. So… casual fun 3D printed earrings are right there in the bathroom by the mirror – great for every day. The second rack? In my bedroom, with my somewhat less casual semi-precious gemstone earrings, and earrings of great sentimental value or a bit more worth. My best/fanciest earrings are safely tucked away in my jewelry box for “occasions”. Seems quite tidy, which I enjoy. Getting to that point, though, brought me up close and personal with the clutter that had definitely been accumulating in my personal spaces on this whole other level since my partner’s injury last fall, and the dust… omg, the fucking dust. I’ve been letting my spaces go to shit because I just don’t have the energy to keep up with every-fucking-thing all the damned time. It’s hard. I’ve failed myself in a number of small ways that, initially, don’t matter as much to me and feel more negotiable…but… I have gotten to that place where the clutter and untidiness (and the fucking dust) are unhealthy for me. It’s been on my to-do list for a while now. Yesterday I just felt pushed to do some small thing about it.

…I managed to tidy up one entire wall of my bedroom, including 3 bookcases (13 shelves, many dozens of books) and all the miscellany that had accumulated on their shelves. Knick-knacks, bits of things, scraps of paper, just… junk and crap and whatnot to deal with. So… I mostly dealt with it. Meaning to say, I grabbed a small box and anything I couldn’t figure out “where it goes” at a glance (to put it there immediately), I dropped into the box. (I dusted as I went.) At the end of this process, once the entire room is thusly dealt with, I’ll go through the items in the box one by one and probably throw a ton of that shit out – or put it where it obviously belongs, because by that point it should become clear. It felt good to get some of that done, and to have a strategy. I had my Traveling Partner’s support and he didn’t grief me over not hanging out – having that encouragement and emotional safety to do the thing needing to be done helps make it doable at all. Now I just need to keep at it.

One of the challenges is that this process involves touching a ton of little items that evoke memories. Some good. Some less so. It can be an emotional process, and I’m less skilled at making it less so. The way out is through; there are no shortcuts on emotional journeys. I say something about it, generally, to my Traveling Partner, and he comments that perhaps some of these memories are not worth keeping, or working so hard to keep, maybe. His memory works very differently; he struggles to let things go, and remembers too well, too long, too easily. That’s a struggle of another sort, for sure. I’m not saying I’d rather have that one, either, it just means we have a very different perspective on memory and memories. Useful, actually. That rock I handled while I took things from shelves and placed them in the box? The one that reminded me of that very blue sunny afternoon when I lived at #59, feeling alone and unloved, lonely not solitary, mired in despair? Finding that whimsically painted rock in the fork of a tree on my rather sad walk that day really lifted me up, but when I handle the rock now, I remember finding it, yes, and the joy that came of that moment, but I also remember that very blue afternoon, and how heavy my heart was. It’s a visceral memory of sorrow and aloneness. Do I need to keep that one? Is there value in feeling that feeling just because I handled a rock?? My Traveling Partner’s observations with regard to memory are, even now, quite thought-provoking for me.

I make some notes for later. Things to do to get ready for camping. A note to remember to go to the store for some essentials. Lists and notes and reminders are another way I cope with the consequences of brain damage (and PTSD). They reduce the likelihood I’ll forget some time-sensitive task, which is definitely a thing I am prone to. All the bills are on auto-pay, where that’s available – just another strategy for coping with poor memory. Effective.

Is the strategy effective?

Is the outcome useful – and intended?

I sip my coffee and consider strategies – and brain damage. It’s been a lifetime. Some of my strategies were formed before I understood what I was coping with in the first place. Some of my strategies have been less than ideally effective. Some of them even had problematic unanticipated other results. This too, has been a journey. I breathe, exhale, and relax. It’s a lovely sunny morning, and there’s work to be done. I have that moment of amusement that I often do when I take notice of “how easy” work often feels compared to life – and in this particular moment I realize it’s likely because the strategies are purpose-built, and often built on foundations of many people and processes over long periods of time, tested and refined and reviewed and analyzed. Of course that feels easier; I’m not making it up as I go along. lol Something to think about.

I sometimes borrow work strategies and try them out in my life (sometimes they work very well). That’s okay, too – it’s just another strategy. What works, works. I try not to continue practices that don’t work, and try to avoid relying on strategies that are not effective. My results vary. I keep practicing.

I smile at the blue sky beyond the window. It’s a nice day to begin again. I’ve got a strategy in mind… and that’s a good place to start. 😀