I’ve never really figured out this ‘living in the now’ thing.
For the first 25 years of my life I lived in the future. I’ve hoped, and imagined, and ‘rode through’ the parts I couldn’t quite handle until I could reach the next stop.
Now, I mostly leave in the past. The hopes have left, so did the strength look for new steps and beginnings to jump to. Instead came the flashes of suddenly being transferred into some location I walked many years before, and very likely won’t ever have a chance to set my foot in ever again. I can smell things, I can taste things, I can see myself standing in the places that are probably long gone from the face of this Earth and I wish they weren’t. I have hardly any memories of things that happened, of things said and done, but I can walk the places I haven’t seen for almost 20 years with startling clarity.
Last year, I actually went and printed off my whole ello blog with the intention of re-reading it from the beginning.
At first I thought that it was because it’s a thing I do when it’s Spring, and my birthday (and trip back to Europe) was near
and my memory is shit (also because I just did a similar thing with someone else’s blog).
But actually reading it, I understand that it just falls in with the stage of looking back and reconsidering things I did and said with my new understanding of my diagnosis. It’s a little staggering… to see it everywhere now. To see myself describe compulsions, patterns, sensory overload problems, and never examine them, never see them for what they were, until now.
Whenever I get too tangled, too overwhelmed with everything that clings to me and tries to drown me, I tread back.
I may not have enough memories,… but I still have music I listened to 15 years ago. I have series I used to watch over and over, alone in the world.
I cling to the feeling of ‘back then’ that comes back with the old stories I re-read.
So I put them on the background and try to rewind my mind into that state in the past. When the air was clearer and my bones were lighter.
And, just maybe, then I’ll have enough clarity to deal with the present.
My brain likes very much to form some curios sensory memory pathways (while often vigorously refusing to form most procedural ones).
Usually, because I almost constantly ‘do something while doing something else’, some kind of random association will cement itself in my mind. I will remember in every detail what kind of soup I ate while playing at what place in what game and while watching what movie some 15 years ago every time I eat that soup, or remember that game or movie. I will strongly associate a certain episode from a show with a certain kind of candy I ate while watching it for the nth time. Or a song with a specific chapter in a book and a memory of a stranger’s apartment or a hotel room. I have a specific perfume of mine I now associate firmly with Bloodborne.
This is significant for me because I have memory problems and usually remember shit about my own life, unless I happen to smell something that will bring me back to some place in the past. Or like the only New Years Eve from ages 0-14 that I can remember is the one when there was Die Hard on the tv while we were getting ready to go out.
The thing is, for more than a year now I keep reading fanfiction on certain set of characters (don’t ask me why I refuse to say ‘fandom'(
not only because I misspelled is as ‘famdom’ before)) for an hour every night before I sleep and every morning after waking up (because it’s short, I can check tags, and it’s written by many different people with many different bats in the belfry perspectives), and after first few months it reached that point where I start to feel like stepping into the world of those characters the second I walk into my own bedroom. Which opens some interesting writing possibilities… if I had any more freedom about what I can read and when.
Incidentally, this is also the only routine I’ve been able to keep for this long. Or for any significant amount of time, really.