My teenage daughter and I have a running joke these days. I start to tell her something when we're driving somewhere together or settling down to dinner and ...
"You told me that already," she'll say. We both laugh.
It's true, my memory ain't what it used to be. It's not so much that I'm having what you might call "senior moments" as that I'm just so overcommitted (and overtired) that I can't keep track. Did I tell her that I ordered the purple "galaxy leggings" she needs for Spirit Week? Did I tell her about the nice thing one of the mothers at the stable told me about her? Did I tell her that she needs to send a "Thank You" note to her aunt?
Who knows? I'd better tell her again.
"You told me that already." And so it goes.
Once in a while, she'll repeat something herself and then we really laugh. "Like mother, like daughter." Ha ha ha.
The problem is that memory (or the lack thereof) is not selective. We don't have a choice about what (or whom) we remember. Or what (or whom) we forget.
It seems a waste; there are so many things I'd be happy to forget. Like ...
• Most of the men I dated the year before I met my husband. Oh, I have some fond memories too — my wonderful college boyfriend, a sweet medical student. But by and large? A bit of amnesia would be welcome.
• My haircut in 2009. (Shudder, shudder. Enough said.)
• The time I was performing on tour in a musical and it was the biggest number in the show and I was in the front row at the edge of the stage and the entire cast turned left ... and I turned right.
• All of the Twilight novels.
• When they ran out of tortellini at my wedding. (How could that happen? Sure, there was plenty of other food, but ... HOW COULD THAT HAPPEN??????)
There are things (like tortellini) that can still make us cringe when recalled later. Mistakes made. Lessons learned. Something said in jest that sounded cruel. I've hurt people's feelings, made bad decisions, publicly humiliated myself. Not just as an adult either. I had to miss a kindergarten assembly (with a puppet show!) for some 5-year-old transgression and I was yelled at by a favorite teacher in front of the entire fourth grade.
And, I somehow remember each of those incidents — in high relief — years or even decades later.
So, why is it so difficult to remember whether or not I've already reminded my daughter to call and confirm her babysitting gig?
"You told me that already."
Okay, okay. But, have I told you the one about the tortellini?
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My teen daughter had a friend sleep over last night. I'm not sure how late they stayed up (my husband and I were out long before they were), but rousing them was even more difficult than usual. I had to go in twice and ended up losing whatever cool I thought I had (which, trust me, ain't much). The girls are acting as junior counselors at the riding camp at their stable, and their eager little protégés would be there waiting at nine. We had to go, like ... "Now!" Finally, they came downstairs, looking puffy and rumpled and more than a little pissed off.
On a small post-it note by the door, I had written "H2O." My daughter looked at it quizzically.
"It's so I remember the bottles of water I put in the freezer for you to take," I explained. It's been hot this week and the girls need to stay hydrated. Had my daughter been less tired, she might have made some remark about how lame it is that I write myself notes. Sometimes fatigue is a good thing.
That's what I do, more and more these days. I write myself notes. You see, if I don't, then I almost certainly forget to remember whatever it is that I needed to remember but forgot.
Some say it's middle age. Some say it's stress. I personally think it's because I am always trying to do five things at once. Something's gotta give.
A yoga teacher of mine (a particularly serene and lovely yoga teacher), explained that we should all try to do just one thing at a time. This, she explained, would help us live in the moment. I've tried, really, but my "to do" list is simply too long. At the same time, I recognize that I'm probably not saving any actual time.
For example, if I spend ten minutes trying to do five things simultaneously, each action item is only getting twenty percent of my attention. This means that any given task is going to take five times longer than it would if I focused on it and it alone. If I did the five tasks in sequence, but only one at a time, I would end up with everything completed at the same time as I would if I did them all together. And, I would be calmer, wouldn't I?
Oh sure, it all makes sense (especially if, like me, you were once on the math team). But that's not how my brain is wired. We talk about multitasking as thought it's an enviable skill. I think it's a deplorable necessity. And one that is robbing me of my short-term memory as well as my beauty sleep.
Thank goodness for post-it notes!
I would worry about my memory loss except that I hear all of my peers complain about the same thing. Doctors actually say that people with real cognitive impairments (like early onset Alzheimer's or dementia) complain less than people who are simply overworked, overtired and overstressed. They also say that the type of forgetfulness we experience indicates whether we need to worry. For example,
You don't have to worry if you go to the grocery store and forget to pick up sugar.
You do have to worry if you go to the grocery store and forget how to get back home.
For now, at least, I'm not so worried. Annoyed, irritated, inconvenienced ... yes. But, not worried. Nevertheless, I will probably mention it to my doctor when I have my next annual checkup. I'd better write myself a note so I don't forget.
Now, if only I can remember where I left those post-it notes ...
