I have this wonderful self preservation/defense mechanism, I forget the vast majority of unpleasant things that happen to me in life. The more fragile I am in the present emotionally and mentally the less memory I have, and when I’m seriously stressed and at my lowest peak, I forget even the simple things, my phone number, my address. But those are the dark dark days of the worst times, which I seem to be out of now. Though my memory impairment is still pretty substantial.

But I’m thinking tonight, mostly of my long past memories that have been buried, not the recent past, not the couple of years ago when I was in and and out of rock bottom suicidality and had to dig my way through my tears and my haze to struggle to remember who I was where I lived, and what numbers I came with, sometimes successfully, sometimes not. Depression is an evil illness.

My long past memories…
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