My Mind is Like a Steel...Sieve

There's a running joke in my family. We call it "Cindy" disease, after my mom, who constantly misplaces items and forgets things. I've shown signs of it throughout my adulthood, but now it's getting serious. And frankly, scary. I'm only 39, for Christ's sake. Why do I feel like I'm elderly where my mind is concerned? 

I tend to write myself notes all the time. I even email myself when I am laying in bed at night and I remember that I need to do something, because I KNOW I will forget if I don't. I write notes on the bathroom mirror in transparency marker, so I see whatever it is I need to remember when I wake up and brush my teeth, because sometimes the email isn't in front of my face enough. I have to put reminders in my calendar to call my boys every other Friday when they aren't here, and to write this blog, and to send update emails monthly to one of my manufacturers. 

I need to find ONE place to write notes, because I find myself at my desk, my notebook in my purse or work bag somewhere else in the house, and I need to write something down. So I grab any piece of paper... And then promptly forget about it. Just yesterday I found a note that I was supposed to send a designer a sample. I had even emailed Eric to see if he could do it when I was in Kansas City last Friday, but he didn't get the message until late. I remembered when I got home that I needed to do it, and even went downstairs to look for the sample and found that I was out of that one. I promptly forgot all about it until I noticed a note buried in a legal pad yesterday while I was on a conference call. So this is now a full week after the sample request. And of course, THEN I remembered that I had more of that particular sample in the small "new collection" sample boxes we are to distribute, just not in my normal sample set. Why had I not thought of that the week before? And why, between my trip from the basement to look for it initially, and coming upstairs, did I completely forget about my task? 

This past Wednesday I went to Target to get a few items, ultimately ending up in the electronics section for a little gift for Eric, and since I was done shopping, I decided to check out there instead. I realized when I opened my purse, that my billfold was back home on my desk. Why was it there? Because I don't like to bring my whole purse to volleyball, and just take my billfold so I have my license and money in case I need it, and put it on my desk when I came home the night before instead of in my purse. At least I remembered where it was. It was better than the time I decided to let the dogs road trip to Target with me, and in getting them in the car, left my purse on top of the car and drove off. Luckily some Good Samaritan found it and put it in between my front doors. That was the LONGEST drive home ever. I've also gone all the way to Des Moines and only had my license in my purse, because I had gone on a bike ride, and put my license in a small wristlet wallet and proceeded to put only that in my purse, not my whole billfold. Luckily I still have a credit union in Des Moines that knows me and let me take out some cash because I needed gas. And lunch. And I was there for a hair appointment. 

I got up from my office chair the other day and made it the six feet to the doorway before I paused to try to figure out why the hell I'd just gotten up. I had to go back to my desk, and scroll through open browser windows before I figured out that I had gotten up to go to the kitchen to figure out whether the avocados on the counter were ripe enough to put in the fridge. This happens more that I'd like to admit.

I got a tax form in the mail 2 weeks ago. The last place I remember seeing it was on the dining room table. It's missing now. Along with an earring that I last saw in the kitchen, a scarf that I last saw in the coat closet and 1 each of 2 pair of fuzzy slipper socks that were last seen in my bedroom or laundry basket, so now I wear the 2 mismatched remainders together. I did, however, find the packing tape I've been looking for for 3 weeks, on the bookcase in the living room. Why? I have no idea. 

I give presentations for work and I can't think of the words I want to say. It's no longer a fluid presentation. There are many pauses while I think it through. And they are always simple words like "mold" or "pattern".  I'm given lists of discontinued items to pull from binders at the beginning of the year, and yet continually find old products in binders that I had already been through, because new product binder cards were in those binders. From several new launches. How did I miss pulling the old stuff on 3 separate occasions? And it's at multiple clients' so it's not just some intern pulling stuff out of a trash bin and replacing it. It's clearly me. Forgetting. 

Almost a decade ago, when I started a carpet rep job, I was told to go to Minneapolis to shadow the rep up there. I packed up my suitcase and ran an errand. I realized I had forgotten my shoes, so I went back home to get them. I got to the hotel in Minneapolis, opened my trunk, and THERE WAS NO SUITCASE! I had walked right past it in the hallway on my way to get my shoes, but it never registered. I drove all over looking for new clothes for the next day, along with some pajamas, make-up and hairbrush, ultimately just getting everything at Target. I was happy I had my shoes with me though, because at that time, it was really difficult to find size 11's. Since then, I am incredibly worried that I will do that again. I've stopped the car midway to a destination to pop the trunk and double check.

I was told by many people at my 20th class reunion this past summer that they had wonderful memories of playing flashlight tag at my house in junior high and high school. I don't remember most of them playing with me. I had one classmate tell me I rode around in the trunk of her car once. I don't have any recollection of that either. And I have no idea if I can trust the memories I DO have. Hell, I remember being good acquaintances with Eric in high school, but he says we really never talked except one time when we were developing pictures for yearbook. I didn't even remember he was in that class. 

People tell me their life stories. And they aren't just acquaintances. They are really good friends. But I forget. And I'm too embarrassed to ask again. I can't remember why one friend doesn't talk about her dad. Had he passed away? Did he take off when she was a kid? Was there ever a relationship between them? I have no idea. I can't remember. And most of my clients are designers. Some of them went to UNI, like I did. Some of them shared the same horrible professor I had, and we chat and we bond over our experiences with her. Then a year later they say something about UNI, and in my head I think, "She went to UNI?" 

It seems that more and more often, something happens that makes me question whether something is truly wrong with my brain. Sometimes it's small things like not remembering how to spell words that I have spelled a thousand times before. Other times it's big things like leaving my purse on top of my car. It's bright red. How did I miss it from letting the dogs in the back seat to turning around and me getting in the front? Regardless, it's happening much more frequently than before. 

Today will be spent making list after list, and checking them again and again, because I am going to Minneapolis tomorrow with a friend. And if I forget my IKEA gift card at home, like I did the last time I went, I will be mad. If I forget the IKEA bags to take home all my goodies, and have to buy new ones, I will be mad. If I forget my pajamas or toothbrush or fresh socks or heaven forbid my purse or cell phone, I will be mad. And not just mad in the general sense, but mad at myself for forgetting something so simple, especially when I had a note, SOMEWHERE reminding myself to pack that item. 

None of my immediate family has ever had Alzheimer's. But my worry is growing nonetheless. I am just glad I have a reminder in my calendar to write this blog, so I have something down on "paper" of my life, for when I am sure to forget it all.