Reading Time: 6 min
Our memory is a more perfect world than the universe: it gives back life to those who no longer exist.”
Guy de Maupassant
Memories.
I was always good at remembering things. I read a book and I could remember it. I read a textbook and I could draw diagrams and tables from the memory. I could recall conversations as if I were playing a recorded reel in my head. I remembered the dates and times of everything that happened to me or around me. I remembered so much. It was like having a superpower. I remembered a lot. I remembered what my parents told me, I remembered what my ‘friends’ spoke about me behind my back, I remembered. I think, except names, I have remembered most of the things I heard or saw.
Then I grew up.
I grew up and I realize how much what I remembered I do not want to. Who wants to remember the face of your bully? Who wants to remember the years I spent without a single friend? Who wants to remember pain? Probably for the first time in my life I wanted to forget things. I should be clear about this though – these were just memories, just silent flashes running through my head at random hours, there were no emotions attached to it, but irrespective of how muted they were they still ran strong.
They say – be careful what you wish for. What most people do not realize is how memory is affected during the acute depression. Everyone knows about weight gain or loss, sleep issues, isolation, intense despair, but memory loss is something no one talks about. You watch a movie and all that you remember would be fuzzy details. You read a book and would struggle to recall even the broad plot points. If you are in a relationship, good luck being able to remember what conversation you had. Yes, I wanted to forget things, but not being able to remember was a bigger curse than what I could hope for. I was losing my power.
There are not good and bad memories. They are just memories. I don’t want to forget any of them. Every picture has colours, the intricate play of light that dazzle us, but a picture can’t just have light and colours; you remove the shadows, and everything appears washed out. I want the whole picture.
I said this some months ago
Things improved. The darkness does not last forever. The weight was lost. The sleep was regained. The friends were earned back. But the memories that were lost, they were lost forever. I was frustrated. When you are in the middle of the darkness, you do not notice this – it is like looking at your life through a grainy screen. But when you step back into the light you realize what you have lost. It was not just the memories; I just could not create memories as well as I did earlier.
It is not difficult to assume that like all things I blamed myself. I blamed myself for not what I was earlier. I walked through a fugue state for years, thinking of myself as something lesser than who I was. Part of me was broken and instead of trying to find ways to fix it I just spent time in useless despair – that I was not as smart as I was.
It was not till this year that I realized what kind of undue stress I was putting upon myself. I had through emotional and mental distress and I expected that I would come back unscathed. No one expects anyone who underwent physical trauma to get back to the exact state by just wishing. My mental wiring was off. Things would not go back to normal and me wishing to be some older version of Soubhagya and not aligning myself with the current version of me was a major reason for the stress.
I started working on my concentration and focus, worked on achieving selective attention, played games testing logical ability and worked actively to improve my visual reproduction. Technobabble aside, I understood things will not be as easy for me and once I accepted that it will not be so, I could actually work towards working on my memory. Things will not be the same, but I am okay with it.
Memories are bliss and curse. I have lived with the bliss and curse of remembering everything and I have lived with the bliss and the curse of forgetting things. Truth be told, some memories are happy, and some are not, whether I remember them or not does it really matter. If some things are worth remembering, I will remember them if and when it matters.
…when pain is over, the remembrance of it often becomes a pleasure.”
Jane Austen
This image was clicked in Venice. Check out more pictures in my Portfolio or follow me on Instagram for more travel photographs.
