DIARY OF A FIERCE WOMAN 10/10/2026 THE DAY MY DREAMS DIED

From September 2017- February 2018 I underwent electroconvulsive therapy (ECT) for schizoaffective disorder two to three times per week for six months. Memory loss is common with ECT and I got hit hard. It severely impacted my memory, but all the doctors said it was temporary. It was not. We waited for it to get better. By 2019, it was clear that it wasn’t. It started with holes on the day of my treatments. Then it spread. By August 2019 it was clear it was sticking around and I underwent my first four-hour neurocognitive assessment. It showed Mild Cognitive Impairment (MCI). In 2024, I had worsened considerably so I underwent my second neurocognitive assessment. The assessment revealed it: I now have Major Neurocognitive Disorder/Frontotemporal Dysfunction.

I know the day my dreams died. It was September 13, 2024 over Zoom. It was the day I received the results of the second neurocognitive exam. My wife and I were vacationing in our fifth wheel. I was on the call in our bedroom. I wasn’t sure what I thought the doctor would find. I knew something was wrong. There was a reason I had sought out treatment, but I didn’t think it was that bad.

As I sat on the bed talking to the doctor, her words shocked me. As I heard the diagnosis, I was stunned. The shock drove her words into the background. “Significant worsening. . . blah, blah blah. . . Major Neurocognitive Disorder. . . blah blah blah. . . frontotemporal dysfunction.” I sat there, staring at the screen, striving to understand what she was saying. Then she told me to apply for Social Security disability. This was real.

After the call ended, I turned to Dr. Google. (ChatGPT wasn’t common yet, I would turn to that down the road. Once I started using it, ChatGPT became my best friend.) I looked up Major Neurocognitive Disorder and saw it was an umbrella term for dementia. Dementia. My mother had passed one year earlier. I thought she had dementia which made her very angry. All I could think was Karma is a bitch!

It’s been two years since that life-changing Zoom call. My processing, executive function and memory are affected. I now have swallowing difficulties. I “forget” how to swallow. My automatic swallowing is impaired so now I choke on saliva that has pooled in my mouth. Frontotemporal dysfunction causes behavioral changes as the part of your brain that regulates inhibition is impaired. I have instances of pure rage over trivial problems. Most of the time I’m apathetic, unable to be motivated to do anything. My world is shrinking as my abilities dwindle.

I can’t read a book or watch a sermon as I can’t hear (or see) information, analyze it and respond. I’ve given up driving as I lack the ability to multitask. I can’t rotate through the different tasks: watching the road, my speed, signs and pedestrians. I had to step down from ministries – the most important part of my life – as I can’t remember everything that needs to be done to lead properly. I can still write and speak but I rely heavily on notes and speak from the heart rather than providing in depth summaries of theology based on commentaries. Even those modifications grow harder as the weeks progress, but I haven’t given up yet.

When I first started writing on Substack, I planned on self-publishing the book I had written but decided not to for personal reasons. My second plan was to write a second book specifically about my cognitive impairment but that is no longer possible. I can’t read my words and edit them in the way a book is written. I decided instead to post directly to Substack and my website.

I recently posted my mental health journey. This next series will be on my experience dealing with cognitive impairment. I will write my thoughts in the form of a diary rather than a lengthy, organized book. I’m not sure if I’ll ever “finish” it but I hope my words find an audience, and it helps people in some way. I will write what I can for as long as I can.

I battle illness after illness. Gastroparesis leaves me in pain. Psychosis rolls over me, wave by wave like water on a rocky beach. Cognitive impairment frustrates me as I forget or struggle to make sense of my world. People call me, “strong”. I hate it when I’m called that. Strong just reminds me of all the crap I’ve gone through in my life. Instead, I claim the word, “FIERCE”. Strong makes me feel like all I’m doing is coping successfully. “Fierce” is not passive. Fierce acknowledges the fight, the struggle, not just enduring but overcoming. I am FIERCE! I am a fighter, and I won’t give up. I am here for a reason. I can define my purpose. I can live; I can thrive.

 I hope you find this journey interesting and if you find my writing thought provoking, consider subscribing to my blog on Substack: https://jasmineraysymms.substack.com/ 

All previous posts are available on Substack and my website.

Photo by Bro Takes Photos on Unsplash