LOSING MYSELF, FINDING PEACE POST 6

ECT MEMORY LOSS

ECT caused extensive memory loss and stopping ECT didn’t make the memories return. Some memory gaps were significant. One day I was flipping through my calendar and noticed an entry: Bible Study Thursdays, 1:30. It didn’t say where and I couldn’t remember. I couldn’t tell you where it was held or what we were studying, I didn’t know who else was in the group. It was all a blank.

I asked my spouse, “am I in a Bible study?”

She said, “yes” but she didn’t know details.

I texted my best friend, “Am I in a Bible study?”

“Yes,” she said, “you go to a Bible study on Thursday afternoons. It’s at a lady – the leader’s house. I’m not sure where it is.”

I messaged my pastor, “Do we have a Bible study group that meets on Thursday afternoons? I have it on my calendar but have no memory of it.”

“Yes,” she texted back. “The Purpose Driven Life” study at Gene and Sue’s house. 1:30pm on Thursdays.”

With that prompting I could picture their house and one other couple but that was all I had. Fortunately, Sue, the leader, was able to fill me in. She told me who else was in the study and that one of the women and I usually met for coffee afterwards. She gave me the reading assignment for the next session. As she talked, vague memories began to fill in.

On another occasion, I was on Facebook when I noticed a “suggested page” for “Adaptive Counseling”. It triggered a memory of my having a counselor. Back to my calendar I went and, sure enough, I had a counseling appointment the week before. It was in the calendar as “Linda Counselor”, so I looked in my phone’s address book and found “Linda Counselor” as one of the entries. I called her and she was very nice. Yes, she was my counselor, I’d seen her for the last several months. “Tuesdays at 10:00!” popped into my mind. I had a hazy image of a woman, slightly older than me in an office. I’m not sure I would have been able to pick her out of a crowd, but I suspected I’d recognize her when I saw her in the office. I remembered the office.

Those were the big memory losses, but the little ones were just as bad: wandering around my kitchen trying to remember where the glasses were. Needing an address to mail a card and not remembering where addresses were kept. The first thought was the little notebook I kept passwords in. I had used that earlier in the day. Did I keep addresses there? No. Oh yeah, I have an address book. Where do I keep that? Oh, I remember now. It’s on the bookcase. I can’t express how hard, how frustrating, how depressing losing your memory is. Sometimes the memories come back and sometimes they don’t. Sometimes they’ll come back and then be gone again. As I read these words, I don’t remember all of them. I don’t even remember not remembering. I wonder about what I’ve lost that I will never know.

What started as a painful and oftentimes devastating experience – ECT – has proven to be a blessing. I never thought I’d think of memory loss as a good thing, but it’s become a gift. Silly things have been forgotten. TV shows and movies renew themselves. It takes about a year to forget a series, but when I do, I get to watch my favorite shows all over again, just like new.

It’s brought healing to my relationships and my own mental health. Back in my twenties, I used to keep a journal, but I stopped writing because it kept depressing me. I was so bitter and all I ever did was complain. That’s not me anymore. I don’t remember all the animosities I felt. I don’t concentrate on painful memories and regrets. When I do remember something, it’s like it happened to someone else. I don’t remember the strong emotions that went with that memory, so it holds no power over me.

There is sadness at some of the losses. I don’t remember the birth of my children, and I remember watching the video of my wedding rather than the wedding itself. As I watched my daughter giving birth, some of the memories came back. I hope other memories that have been shut away will come back. I get frustrated sometimes when people will tell me something I should remember but don’t. I’ve found old files of writing decades ago that I don’t remember. So, I just keep writing with what I’ve got.

Ultimately, the ECT didn’t help me with my schizoaffective disorder, but when I really think about it, I don’t regret it. I lost my memories but kept my intelligence. Learning is much harder now – I rely heavily on notes rather than memorization – but I was able to complete certification as a Behavior Technician to work with children with autism. It took me about 120 hours instead of the stated 40 hours, but I did it. And I’m proud of that.

The deep, abiding, invasive bitterness is gone. I used to be very jealous in a mean way. Even those I was closest to I resented. And maybe I even resented them more because I saw their blessings up close. But I never thought in real world terms. I never remembered that they had hardships in life too. I didn’t give them credit for the fighting they had to do and obstacles they had to overcome to get where they were. And I blamed others instead of doing the work to succeed myself.

As bad as the mental illness is, as bad as the consequences of ECT are, as frustrating as the side effects from the psych meds are, I’ve been offered a gift. I don’t remember the pain! Sometimes, as I review my work, I find myself learning my own story. There are parts that are revelatory to me. But I’ve found forgiveness. ECT was the beginning of the memory loss journey not the end but as bad as it was, as much as I would still struggle, I learned to put the pain into the past.

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Photo by Kelly Sikkema on Unsplash