Depression robs us of memories. Well, not all memories because we can all probably recall some of our bad times after we begin to feel better. I have taken medications which made me out-and-out stoopit—those are the memories I have chosen to forget.
Anyway, I have been making an effort to recall my good memories and not focus on something rotten I did in the past. My entire past isn’t riddled with guilt, anxiety, or depression–even though I used unsavory tactics to ignore, or hide my illness. Those incidences were not who I am, they are what I did, and it’s time to move on.
I screwed up. I learned from it. I must let it go.
Therefore, I try to recall more of the fond memories when I start replaying the old films in my head. Most of my memories are triggered by looking at old photos.
Maybe we’re all this way, but I was seriously beginning to think I had no memories, unless it was a bad memory. I was brain damaged due to depression 😀
I have found that I have fond memories I can recall….
I told my dad a joke when I was pretty young, then forgot about the joke. See—my bad memories have always plagued me.
When I was a teen, family dinners were a bit hit and miss. All of us kids had various evening jobs, and we weren’t always together at the nightly dinner table.
In our younger years, we had assigned spots at the table. My dad always at the head, my mom stuck between the two youngest–or maybe my middle sister sat next to my dad.
Anyway, as we all reached the terrible teens, I claimed the chair next to my dad–because I could–because I was the oldest of the girls, and I was mean to my sisters. I love my dad.
One night, as we were eating dinner, we were having an average conversation of various topics. Nothing too funny. But, then my dad seriously asked me if I knew how to catch a polar bear. I’m sure our conversation was leading up to this question, because it didn’t seem like an odd question out of nowhere. No, I couldn’t recall that I knew, and had never heard of such a thing.
To catch a polar bear, you trek out onto the ice, poke a big hole through the ice. Place peas around the hole, and wait. When the polar bear comes to take a pea, you kick him in the ice hole.
Some of you may have heard this joke. My dad drew the joke out by using a bunch more words, building up to the punchline—like it was an actual true lesson. He had my full attention–then he hit me with the punchline.
I started laughing until tears were running down my face. The snorting kind of laughter, which made my dad and mom laugh even harder.
I finally gained my composure and asked him where he heard that joke. His response was that I told him.
batting my eyes over and over Wut? I did? Hungh!
And the laughter reignited.
Silly April was always silly.