I May Have Forgotten to Title This

I should probably be in bed now, attempting to go to sleep. I am tired as always but actually leaning toward sleepy for once. But suspecting I might be nearing the realm of passing out from exhaustion by earlier this evening, I decided to take a brief nap—meaning three hours long. That’s brief to this body.

So thanks to that, I was able to make it through the rest of the things that had to be accomplished before I went to bed. But also thanks to that, I have a feeling that if I went to bed right now, I would possibly have a similar repeat of last night’s experience, which is now becoming more and more common, and be up by 5:30 AM, like a senior citizen or something.

It’s funny (not really) how the emotions of this unpredictable body rise and fall by the hour. Some hours I feel okay, meaning not crying out of despair at all of this, and think, Well, there’s no reason to write today—I’m actually doing okay. And then give it a day or a few hours and I’m ready to get one more of the countless burdens off my chest. Tonight is one of those nights.

So I sit down and start writing a post on a completely different aspect of this wind-driven life. I get two very small paragraphs into it, leading up to my next thought, and come to a dead stop with the last period.

What was I going to say?

Maybe it’s the fibro fog. That’s very likely, common as it is in my life anymore.

Maybe it’s that the usual memory lapses are being exacerbated by sleeping from 11:00 PM to about 3:30 AM last night and getting up out of pure disgust with the constancy, vividness, detailed-ness, and absurdity of the dreams that enveloped those few hours.

Or maybe it’s actually one of my indicators, rather welcomed lately, that my brain is slowly shutting down, meaning it’s genuinely time to go to bed. The kind of forgetfulness that comes in the minutes before you fall asleep, when you’re amusing the wakeful minutes with whatever thoughts you want and then you forget what you were thinking about. (Am I the only one who does that?)

And then maybe it’s all of the above, the most likely explanation.

Whatever it is, it’s old. Very. Old.

Just three years ago, I was cramming dozens of Bible verses and references into my brain for Bible class, who did what at any time ever in the history of church music, and the most random trivia imaginable to attempt to nail quizzes for a useless (to me) class on Rome’s history. (That class may have driven the last nail in the coffin on my fate with fibro. Maybe.) At any rate, I made it. My photographic memory was overflowing with facts and details, needed and not, all on the way to the magna cum laude diploma.

And now I can’t even remember that, yes, I have tried that family member’s certain dish (thanks to the reminder by my husband). Yes, I did say that once. Yes, I have been to that place before. Yes, I did name that cow Luther (family farm).

And I can’t even coherently pull out of my brain what it is I wanted to say.

So I’ll finish up this ramble instead, and post it. And then I’ll go back and stare at the very empty page again:

What was I going to say??

We may never know.