The Aftermath

Some people wear the scars of the past on their face; lines and indentions, chiseled reminders of their hardships. Others, after having walked through the fire, suffer a malady; an outward sign that the body's reservoirs have run low. And then there are those, like me, who after emerging on the other side of tragedy have to work diligently to remember all the things once known, but now forgotten.

When the mind is continually bombarded and called upon to operate at peak levels for years, like any machine, it eventually shows signs of wear and tear, ranging from the frustrating yet benign: standing in the grocery store aisle for countless minutes trying to remember what in bloody hell prompted the trip to the store in the first place (only to remember it later, once home), or to the more serious: forgetting a critical appointment. Nothing turns a smile upside down faster than a phone call upon which one is asked where they are, then informed that everyone’s waiting.

For me, simple names, locations and other fun factoids (things once easily recalled), have now either been buried under deflating, mental grunge or have been simply erased; my mind’s effort to find more space for more mental grunge; useful in so much as its information needed while in court or selling assets of a corporation; useless in so much as its information tied to circumstances that carry only treacherous memories. Much like a country thrust into war, my mind decided to cease production of all creative thoughts in lieu of producing thoughts necessary to battle.

During one of my most mentally grueling moments, my mind was so overwhelmed I parked my Jeep in the garage just to discover hours later that I never turned it off. There it sat idling patiently, awaiting my return. My hope is that now the legal battles have all been fought and won, my mind will begin the process of sweeping away the debris and shrapnel; loose mental fragments, no longer needed.

After a thorough cleanse, my mind will need a period to rebuild. Like a cork, my mind was pushed down by the forceful hand of a near endless divorce, financial catastrophes and the hellacious deeds of a wayward soul. My hope is that soon it will buoy up, and bobble once again on the water’s surface. Time will tell. But for now, you won’t see me winning at Trivial Pursuit or standing proudly on Jeopardy. No - I will be the one trying to remember how to spell the simplest of words or searching for my check book or standing bewildered at the market.

Sane