06/12/24

Where do forgotten memories go? Moments and pieces in the middle of a black out. We swore these were the times we’d remember forever. Instead we come to the next morning still drunk or maybe hungover. We are left to put the pieces together trying to make sense of the night before. A night that started off with the saying oh you’ll just have one. Knowing full well just one was never enough. But that’s honestly a true thought you have. Every time you picked up and stepped out. 

Fortunately if you’re lucky you have some people around you who will explain the dumb shit that was both extremely hilarious and sometimes embarrassing. This may create a flash back and suddenly it’s all right there. Like it wasn’t forgotten at all. What about the memories from when you are little? Before the alcohol. Before you even knew what an alcoholic was let alone that you’d become one. Before the numbness from a bottle is what you yourself began to chase. Or a simple high to make life livable. Enjoyable. 

Back when the only thing you feared was the shadow in the closet or the sound you swore you heard from under the bed when the lights were turned out. Where did those good memories go and why can’t you remember them now? Overthinking and obsessive mind. Trying to search the mind for one. There’s a few. You stumble across. Nothing complete. Are any of these even true? You’re  open to the theories people have. Open to the suggestions people may come up with. The trauma of a deja vu moment. Forcing you to, if only for a split second, remember the pain. I’ve wrote before about my belief that our bodies remember the feelings better than our minds remember the memories. Still we remember the anger or frustration that came with those type of memories. 

The memories of I’m busy go play. When all you wanted was a hug. From someone who was suppose to love you. The memories of needing those hugs fade and a resentment forms in its place. Before you know it the hatred is alive and feeds off your raw emotion. Because you were never taught to heal so you pick yourself up. Move on. Who needs a mother anyways. 

I’ve gotten off topic and the purpose of this has shifted. I apologize. I write what I write so now a rant begins…. 

You spend your life searching for a replacement in every person. Every person you wish you had as a mother. Jealousy builds inside the friendship whose mothers were or are a complete 180 compared to yours. You don’t want to hear anymore about she did the best should could.  what non one wants to talk about is… What if maybe her best just wasn’t good enough? Everyone tells you just forgive her for yourself not for her.

…and than do what?

You have these days when you feel like you have. Then moments when you get frustrated and your back at the beginning. You say you healed. You forgave. But did you really?

Are you suppose to forget the feelings just like those forgotten memories? One memory you’ve never been able to shake….you’re probably about maybe 5 or 6. A 103 or 104 fever has you sick sick. All you remember is that thick itchy orange and blue quilt. Hot as hell. You remember she scooped you up. Wrapped up tight. The more you fought the tighter she held. That’s all you remember about a night you’re not even sure is real. But maybe that’s the reason you have it? Reminding you of a time she did cared. Maybe she still does? You think back when her hugs made everything feel better. There’s pieces of you that you think will never fully heal. She will always be one of them. Then you stop as a thought comes across your mind. Maybe that memory from when you were sick sick was all along suppose to be a forgotten memory.