I’ve debated since this afternoon about the addressees for an email I want to write, and have finally decided to make this a blog entry, instead. I will be asking Micah, Mandy, and Daisy to read it, but I’d like my sisters to read it, too – and Sheri, because it might be particularly relevant to her at some point. Then I realized Tiff might find some value in it because of her brother. And Beth has expressed wanting to learn about health in the family, to help protect her children. So, I figured I’d post to the blog so that [1] it’ll be available to anyone in the family at any time and [2] it won’t take up room in your individual computers.

I was so very surprised to find myself being really snappy at Allen this afternoon. The subject was so trivial; after Jenni found out that I was watching the Ohio State/Indiana basketball game, she called to tell me that Paul and Doug had driven down to Columbus to meet Tom and Tiff. Doug had come into possession of court-side seats. Jenni told me where we should look to see them at the game. I couldn’t get their location across to Allen, whom I felt was being obtuse and not listening to what I was saying – and I really snapped at him. This is so out-of-character for me in our relationship.

When I cooled down, I realized, because all of a sudden this entire week suddenly became very clear to me, that once again, this damn unbalance of chemicals in my brain has been affecting me – and, once again, I was entirely unaware of it until something trivial happened to unleash my emotions.

I’m convinced some of you think that I have ended up using this “condition” as an excuse for losing my temper. I KNOW that others of you understand that my displays of temper/emotions and/or lack of logic are a RESULT of the condition of an imbalance of chemicals in my brain. As I have said so many times now, the medication I take allows me to stand back from many things that used to irritate or excite me and react to them as “normal” people do. But it isn’t a strong enough dosage to totally remove me from the consequences when an episode is a particularly strong one. And even those episodes are so sneaky they surprise me when I finally figure them out.

I am writing this tonight for three reasons: 1] I really want to illustrate, especially to my offspring, but maybe to myself, too, the frequency of these episodes. If I write about them and track them this way, I will be better able to judge whether or not I need to ask Dr. Baxley to increase my dosage of my medication – or even if, perhaps, I have progressed to the point that this particular medication is no longer as effective as it used to be, and if I should be trying something else; 2] an added feature has been added – a severe case of lack of short-term memory, as illustrated by the fact that, as of the moment, I can’t think of the third reason I had in mind when I started this paragraph. That’s not meant to be a joke. It’s the truth. If it comes back to me as I write, I’ll insert it then.

It really IS the short-term memory thing that made me decide to write. In fact, I was going to write about it, anyway, before Allen and I “had words” this afternoon and I found myself reviewing the week in a context I hadn’t thought of before that moment.

But when I realized that I have been listless all week (feeling that I have absolutely no “reserves of energy” to rely on), but can’t go to sleep at night, yet fall asleep in my recliner while reading the newspaper or a magazine, and just a lack of inspiration or interest in much of what I’m doing – well, it’s hard to explain. (But it never occurs to me that it’s building to a climax that will allow me to recognize it. I NEVER think “Oh, I’m suffering depression/anxiety right now.” It’s ALWAYS – “oh, yeah, that’s how it feels” – after something happens that’s out of character.) I wish I could explain it better.

I had told Allen yesterday that I was concerned about the short-term memory thing – after he had asked me, while I was in the kitchen, to get the pie he hade made out of the refrigerator – and then realized 45 minutes or so later that the pie was out on the counter, and it hadn’t been I who had taken it out of the refrigerator. I told him about the other incidences of this lapse that have happened this week – still not relating it to an episode because that realization wasn’t until today. I told him, in all sincerity, that I hoped to keep a sense of humor about the frequency of short-term memory loss, and that if he knows I haven’t followed through with something as simple as taking the pie out of the refrigerator to remind me, again, to do it – mainly so I am AWARE of the frequency of the lapse, because I need to see if THAT’s increasing, too. I’m not embarrassed about it, but I AM concerned about it. – Knowing now that I have been experiencing an episode of increased imbalance is just adding to that knowledge that I will share with Dr. Baxley when I see him next. If I remember! (THAT, folks, was meant to be a joke.)

None of the experiences of memory lapse have created huge problems, but I want to illustrate how strong this has been. I have colored sticky dots on my calendar on the dates I have doctors’ appointments, have Broadway Across America shows to go to, Ballet performances to go to, when I need to change the litter in Blue’s box, when I need to give her flea medication, etc.

I had planned early this past week that I had such and such to do, and that on Wednesday morning I would do this and that, and then Wednesday afternoon I would trim my hair and take my shower before I went to see The Drowsy Chaperone. Even Wednesday morning, before I got started on whatever it was I had planned to do, I looked at myself in the mirror and told myself it would be good to trim my hair before I went to the performance.

The day went by. I had dinner and puttered around a little bit. I had to urinate, and when I entered the bathroom I glanced in the mirror and said to myself, “Darn, I’d wanted to trim my hair BEFORE I WENT TO THE SHOW!”

I looked at the clock. It was already after seven. Curtain time is 8:00, and while it really doesn’t take much more than 15 minutes to get to the theater from here, I was going to have to really rush to take a shower and get dressed to get there in time. And I was so listless and yes, anxious at myself for forgetting that I was supposed to do that (i.e., vulnerable), that I made the immediate decision that I couldn’t/wouldn’t put myself under the pressure of trying to do that.

I decided instead, to call Broadway Across America to see if I could exchange “tonight’s” ticket for the next evening. The answering message at the 800 number reminded me that it was answered only during regular business hours. So I sat down at the computer and fired off an email to the “Contact Us” advice on their web site, saying that “something had come up” and I wasn’t going to be able to attend the evening’s performance and could I possibly exchange the ticket for Thursday night.

Obviously, it turned out O.K. Because The Drowsy Chaperone was not a sell-out (pity, it should have been, but I was REALLY glad it didn’t), Broadway Across America “overlooked” the fact that I didn’t comply with the 48-hour request window for ticket exchanges (they were obliged, I suppose, to remind me (chide me? – yes, in the anxious environment I was in at that time), and allowed me to attend Thursday’s performance.

But the fact that I’d forgotten something like THAT so easily, especially after thinking about it in the morning and with a reminder on a calendar that I see every time I exit the kitchen really bothered me.

Another instance, although it involved both longer-term and short-term memory had to do with a library book that kept showing as coming due for return in a couple of days. I’d borrowed another book since then, and had checked my account on their web site and was surprised to find that one I had returned the week before still showing as checked out. I fired off an email to the circulation department, telling them I’d returned the book. – To make along story short, I found the book in question in the tote bag I ALWAYS put the books I return to the library in when I went to use it for something else yesterday. I have NO idea why I didn’t look in the tote bag to begin with when I saw that the book was still showing as due to be returned.

I DON’T LIKE LIVING THIS WAY.

By now, I’m guessing that some of you who are reading this are thinking, “Boy, she’s really beating herself up for some pretty unimportant things.” I’m not. I used to, but that was before I identified my condition. I KNOW myself. Besides the fact that I am a very intelligent person, I have a memory that a lot of people have envied over the years. I did well in the jobs I held because of that. I do well as president of the Association because of that. Yes, I forget words I want to use a lot more often than I used to. I don’t worry about that. That’s part of living and growing older.

As I’ve aged, I’ve implanted the cues I’ve needed to – the types of things I mentioned about the calendar, for instance; if I’m sitting here at the computer and think of something I feel I need to do tomorrow, I make a note of it so that I’ll see it when I sit down at the computer then. Even when I was still working, if I thought of something I needed to do at home, I’d call my number and leave a message on the answering machine (and vice versa). If I need to take something with me somewhere, for years I’ve left it on the floor by the door so I’d remember it when I left the house. All those little tricks some of us are fortunate enough to think of when we realize it’s time to do it.

This is different. That’s why I want to share it/inform you of it. I may be confusing cause and results of this past week, but I’ve learned a lot about my self over the past ten years or so, and I don’t think so.

You may get tired of reading stuff like this from me. But I’m writing it, again, to help myself track it a little more closely, and I’ll rely on YOU, whoever is reading this, to tell me if you observe that I’m writing more and more often of these things (denial is something we all suffer from; I’m asking for your help by doing this).

And I still don’t know what that third thing was. If it comes to me, I’ll blog.