Ah -- Home Sweet Home

Ah -- the joys of spending a weekend in Columbus! So I thought I'd sleep until noon, then take a nap, then read, then take a nap. Instead I was up before 7 -- which considering I usually am at work by 6:30 was sleeping in.

I had been reading a book and had a bit to go so I curled up and finished that. Then decided to tackle cleaning house -- still have some of the camping stuff laying around from Colorado, some stuff from Europe. Decided to start in the bedroom and go through everything -- EVERYTHING.

What I found is that I have a weird sentimental attachment to -- well everything. Weird stuff too -- I haven't used or touched but I can't bear to part with it. While I don't dislike clutter as much as Kathy does -- I do tend to wig out a bit if I feel trapped in by clutter! But I came across all kinds of stuff, shirts, things I just couldn't bear to part with. Now sometimes I just throw everything out -- but most times I want to keep.

But I think I found out why. You may not realize this but I have very little recollection of my childhood. Really up through adulthood! So most of what I remember are stories, pictures, and things. Those are my memories in place of what my mind can't conjure up. That may make sense so you as I'm probably always asking about this or that.

We all have memories we block out because they are painful. We have memories that we embellish and that seem to morph and change with time -- those are the most fun as I'm sure we become smarter, funnier, stronger, and more popular as the memory grows. We have simple memories, flashes of memory when we weren't quite old enough to totally hang on to them. Memories make us laugh, cry. Memories define our life, shape behavior, give us hope moving forward.

So yes it is a bit disconcerting to not remember things. Places, people, experiences. To you they are a memory -- to me they are pictures and stories, sometimes other peoples memories I re-define in my own head.

There is a good logical reason. I once counted my concussions and came up with around 13. I think 3 or 4 times I was knocked out cold. It got so bad that once I stepped off a curb, it wasn't the height I was expecting so I jarred a bit, and you guessed it -- a teeny tiny concussion. Knock on wood I haven't had for a while - but each concussion bruises a bit of your brain and apparently memories went with it. Also concentrating, remembering facts and figures -- kind of comes and goes.

It was weird at first -- you think perhaps you're going nuts, you have a brain tumor, something is drastically wrong. Then it's frustrating because you can't remember, can't place, can't concentrate. It's kind of like sleeping an hour and a half at a time -- I'm used to it, doesn't really bother me, but it's still there and sneaks up and still gets me here and there.

So if my brain has lost the memory but I have the item my creativity allows me to form a new memory. But I need that thing, that T-shirt, that worthess tshotshke, that picture, to help me remember. Perhaps it makes me feel safe, connected to parts of my past that are as blurry as the Sunday paper without my contacts, parts that connect me to people, places, and things that sometimes I can just barely grasp.

I threw out some stuff, re-organized some others. I have new memories to form (as long as I don't get another concussion they should keep!) and friends and family to tell me stories about those memories that may be buried, in their own words, with their own filters -- for me to re-imagine.