Epiphanies come and go in life. What feels profound in one moment can be forgotten in the next. Sometimes, however, we see something we can never "unsee" and our view shifts irrevocably.
For much of my life, I have been labeled as forgetful. It used to bother me because I did not feel that I was forgetful. Consistent accusation that I am, by numerous individuals with no connection, did eventually convince me that I was forgetful. For much of my teenage years and in my twenties, I was resigned to having a bad memory and if someone said I was remembering something wrong, I often just assumed they were correct and conceded outwardly, but rarely internally. Internally I was simply confused at how this kept happening, and why I was so certain that I was not incorrect.
During this confusion, I was failing to realize a significant error in this theory. By measurements that were objective, I seemed to have an amazing memory, and exceptional recall. Despite most people around me dismissing me as forgetful, those same individuals would openly marvel at some of my abilities to remember things. It was only by the subjective standard of my memory being compared against another person's, without a way to verify either side, that I was always automatically judged to be wrong.
Why did none of us reconcile this inconsistency? In tenth grade, I memorized the first 55 digits of Pi in one night because someone bet me at school that I couldn't. Then it was stuck in my head for 15years. I can solve a Rubik's Cube in about 60 seconds on average. Not because I'm "figuring it out," per say, but because I'm performing an algorithm that I memorized to compete with my brothers. I've simply never forgotten it. I could remember preposterous details from shows I had watched. Each of these things were at times a requested performance, as some found it amusing and would ask me to do it for the group. With the TV shows, my older brother liked to randomly spring challenges on me to see how small of details I could recall in a moment, without warning.
If things that can be verified typically prove in my favor, what is the actual likelihood that I am always wrong when it cannot be definitively settled? There is a lapse in logic. The only evidence available for confirmation makes a strong argument for the opposite. However, it cannot be ignored that so many individuals that have no relation to each other always come to the same conclusion.
Life has a way of continuing to move forward. Something can be occurring in a way that seems obvious in retrospect, but it is invisible in that moment. In each particular instance the moment took precedence over introspection. If someone you're close to insists you are remembering wrong, and you've heard that consistently throughout life, the contemplation of the moment involves wondering why you cannot remember things. Wondering how you can make amends to the person you care about who you have irritated. The accused lapse of memory has become so accepted that it has shifted the thoughts of that moment. I am only questioning the recurrence of the perceived failure. It was not until recent years that I had begun an introspective evaluation of the claim.
So, for much of my life up until now, my mind had not landed on the thought to dissect it. I'm not sure if it is good that I have, as the result is an existential crisis.
Analyzing the Patterns:
This experience feels like the climatic culmination of years of confusion and desperate searching for understanding. In the past year, I have finally made progress on this idea. Frustrated with the life long and ongoing issue, I had become determined to improve. In recent years I had made great strides in many areas. I was confident that I could make progress so long as I applied effort and intention. The first step required deep introspection.
How do I get in front of the problem? How do I develop a plan to gradually progress? First, I must understand the problem as much as I possibly can. So, I devoted a lot of daily thought to examining the issue from both past experiences as well as any relevant instances in day to day life.
With the assistance of notes, videos, photos, and other resources used to capture moments, I have been able conclude that my ability to remember is actually exceptional. Which was a perplexing realization after having accepted for most of my life that I was forgetful. With that being realized, I began a futile crusade to set things in order that lasted years.
I had spotted the inconsistency and came to the conclusion that the heart of the issue must be how I communicate. My experiences only have myself as the common element, so common results logically place the cause of the misalignment at my own feet.
I had heard throughout my life that the way I talk is a bit "different." I was told the way I think is "different," which I cannot argue with. The explanation must be that I am failing to properly evocate the thoughts I am trying to convey to others. Perhaps I am using words incorrectly? As anyone can attest to, reading something that simply is in English, but being significantly removed from the time and culture, does not guarantee understanding. It is common for people to read older works and feel like they cannot make heads or tales of it. I began a journey to speak more clearly and more like others. To more intentionally mirror social behavior, in hopes this would rectify the issue. Despite what I considered to be solid effort, it did not prove to change anything in practice. There seemed to be a deeper fundamental issue, but still could not comprehend what, and I was still not seeing the forest for the trees.
The Futility of Being Understood:
Sisyphus had the impossible task of pushing the boulder up a hill for eternity. I similarly tried to be heard and understood. I cannot be certain how difficult his impossible task was, but I would wager we made comparable progress.
When situations would arise in which I was accused of remembering incorrectly or forgetting something, I was determined to show evidence to refute the claims. I have always had issues with obsession, and it is impressive what can be accomplished when you lack the ability to let things go. I would search for any evidence I could find. Texts. Emails. Photos. Videos. Notes. Anything that could corroborate or validate my memory to the other person. The mere fact that I was able to recall where evidence could be and find it supported my belief that I was not remembering things incorrectly, nor forgetting things. In some ways, I felt like my desperate attempt to be understood and feel sane was overlooked as being stubborn pride or arrogance. The impression from others of my behavior was that I just had to be right, and could not accept being wrong. This added to the madness. Desperately explaining that was not what was going on, explaining why I couldn't let it go, why it mattered; these attempts were brushed off as disingenuous attempts to keep the topic open, instead of just admitting I was wrong.
In response to this, I tried further adjusting how I presented things. I removed insistence that I was correct, and reframed my opposition to appear more like an idea I had, but not necessarily confidently. “I do understand what you're saying. I'm a bit confused though. I remember _______ happening. Wouldn't ________ support that?” The effort done with a tone of curiosity and pondering. While that does result in friendlier responses, rarely does it change the outcome.
I have been light on sharing real examples as the problem is something that exists outside of specific anecdotes. The nuances of each instance can be picked apart and subjectively rationalized. I do want to give at least one example for the sake of making the issue I am referring to more clear.
In a recent instance, a coworker insisted I that forgot to tell them something. I calmly and politely stated that I did indeed tell them, and referenced how I had told them in our inter office chat, and they had responded directly to what I said within one minute. She insisted that I was remembering wrong and she was very openly mad at me for it. The accusation was that I had never informed her of something, and as a result, she had not taken action due to never being told. So, I just responded in our office chat with a screenshot that irrefutably showed I was correct, and she was who immediately responded to me and acknowledged it. What we were referring to was only from two days prior. I presented it kindly, and just expected the topic to be over, and the situation resolved, at least in the sense that I clearly was not at fault. However, I did not care about fault. I was hung up on the accusations that I forgot and was misremembering things. That is all I cared about, and I was at peace when I sent it believing that I had unquestionably proved myself. She responded to that screenshot by simply responding, “Nope.” She just dug her heels in, regardless of my flawless proof.
I was not angry about it. If someone thinks something is my fault, and I know it is not, then I am not losing sleep over it. I was mostly just in disbelief. Why is this not enough? The interaction had began with a verbal confrontation. I was not thinking about this thing from days ago and was focused on much more pressing issues when I was interrupted with this. Despite that lack of preparedness or time to mull it over, I was able to immediately cite where I had told her, that she replied, and nearly verbatim the words used. Then, upon producing proof of what I had said, I still am written off. This did not affect her or anyone else in the office's view that I am forgetful and dropped the ball here.
The Apathetic Abyss:
As the cycle repeated, I gained mounting evidence and anecdotes proving my memory to be stellar. Unfortunately, each one was accompanied by an anecdote of being unheard, dismissed, or told I was wrong no matter how much evidence I brought to the table.
This experience had an effect of shattering my view of the world around me. My efforts to prove any point fell off sharply. Why bother? I had become disillusioned to reality around me. When situations would arise of this nature, I began to just refuse to engage in the debate.
I was disinterested in defending my point or resigning my position. When being accused of failing to remember, or remembering incorrectly, or forgetting things, my response simply devolved into various versions of “Okay. Now what?” Why concede to their assertion if I'm certain I am not wrong? Why argue when I know I won't be heard? Let us just skip all of it and proceed to whatever comes next.
Over time, this refusal to engage opened the opportunity to focus elsewhere. I was no longer expending great amounts of mental energy to prove myself. Unfortunately, I was no better at letting things go. Instead, I would just observe as much information as I could. As we all know, listening with the intent to respond can have an effect on what you hear. Or what you absorb, rather. When you observe without intention you are able to focus more on what is actually happening. The nuances that surround things. You can analyze the tone of the speaker. Analyze the subtle cues in where their eyes look. The nearly imperceptible body language that is overlooked for the obvious body language.
Some observations in the Apathetic Abyss were previously overlooked, and in some ways relevant. I began to see more clearly that people became emotionally attached to their assertions. Refutations were taken more as an attack than an appeal to logic. In no way is any of this new information to anyone, but in a real sense, it finally clicked. Knowing something most of your life is one thing. The pieces of understanding finally fitting together is something else.
I am obsessed and focused with cold logic. That simply is not how most people think. I believe that I persist in arguing because I truly become consumed with a need for mutual understanding. Even if it becomes blatant that the other person is becoming angry, I become blind to the social dance. I must find a way to convey understanding. Or at least I thought I must, until I realized that most people were not trying to listen nor understand. You can lead a horse to water, but you cannot make it drink.
How often do I play the part of the person not trying to understand, but failing to realize it? I think it comes most easily when we are defensive. You feel attacked, whether rightly or wrongly, and become consumed with the need to defend your own honor. Realizing these things, in recent years I have tried to make a conscious effort to resist when I recognize feeling defensive.
I try to evaluate, as quickly as possible in the flow of an interaction, what the underlying context could be. When I am able to pull back and analyze, it becomes easier to hold my tongue. My instinct may feel defensive, but is the person likely to be intending to criticize me?
I first started realizing this when someone would comment in a way I did not like about my art. Painting, writing, wood working, metal working; the medium is irrelevant. While I kept my thoughts internal, I recognized long ago that I was very sensitive to any comments about my art. Perhaps it is a manifestation of insecurity, but any comment, even a compliment, would induce a gut reaction of offense. No one even has to say anything negative. That compliment focused on the wrong part! The absurdity of it all became apparent in my quiet reflection of those moments over the years. Different parts of life started connecting mentally, and this realization laid foundation for later realizations. I don't need to feel defensive, I'm projecting intention that I have little to no evidence for. Independently, I began to have realizations on other interactions that I did not see as connected at the time. I worked for many years in security and code enforcement. A negative interaction was generally an assumed part of the day. While that does wear on you, those with experience keep reminding you that it must be water rolling off a duck's back. Various moments of coaching, training, and lecturing led me to realize the root of what I was being told. The understanding others were trying to get through to me, that I wasn't hearing. That is that it really has nothing to do with me.
The person cursing you out about a ticket is mostly influenced by the other factors in their life, and you are simply the catalyst to unleash their frustration. A verbal punching bag that most people understand they can berate with little chance of any consequence, and little chance of judgement by others. Countless pieces of advice came together and taught me the best way to mitigate hostility was to listen. You do not need to agree, they just need to feel like someone hears them. It was not uncommon to receive an apology and explanation of what was really getting at them in life if I could succeed in letting them feel like someone could hear them.
I also began to realize that this same thing was something I felt was lacking in my own life. Can anyone hear me? Truly. Many people listen and engage with me, but so often I am met with comments that remind me that I may be speaking a different language, in a sense. Comments such as, "You think really deep." "Do you always think this much?" "Why do you have to make everything so complicated?" "Why can't you empathize with others?" "I don't like to think about those things."
It is a common idea for people to feel lonely in a room full of people. We all have our catalysts and our moments in that feeling. It feels quite different to experience the depth of loneliness that accompanies suddenly feeling like while you are in the same world with everyone, you are not on the same plane of existence as most of those around you. Why can no one seem to see what I am seeing? Why is evidence insufficient and overruled by consensus that does not seem to have any, nor concern with finding any? Let the reader understand, I am by no means weighing my experience against others'. I am making no argument as to what is better. It is all subjective. Hypothetically, if I could instantly convert someone's thinking to more closely match my own, I would never say "you're welcome." I think I could only say, "I'm sorry." Acceptance, as it Currently Manifests:
When talking to others, they seem to have a general and common misunderstanding of events. A rolling amnesia. Proving myself correct holds little value and changes no minds. What had felt like intentional gaslighting now seems to be a genuine forgetfulness of reality, and adamant adherence to it. In the end, it leaves me feeling insane. Alone in a world, where I can prove what I'm saying, but am dismissed anyways.
I now believe that I am not actually forgetful. Instead, it appears I am one of few people who remembers well. What is interesting is that there seems to be consistency in which others remember incorrectly. It makes me wonder; if I am “neuro-divergent” as I am told I am, then is there something common in the thought patterns of “neuro-typicals” that explains any of this? Anything would explain both the consistency of how quickly things fade from the mind, and also why there seem to be patterns amongst how the blanks get filled in. That is rhetorical speculation as I do not believe it is possible to truly answer such things. A decent amount of it can likely be attributed to social behavior. Needing to fit in with the group, many subconsciously tend to adjust as to not be an outlier.
Awareness of the disconnect between myself and others brings no peace of understanding. The more the awareness creeps in, the more alone I feel. A significant event will happen in my life, and I struggle to enjoy the moment because I am watching those around me. Wondering what they will remember, and if it will be accurate to what is occurring. Wondering if I can deduce which details will be overlooked entirely. Which will be observed by all, but forgotten within moments. Which may be communally remembered incorrectly.
In a way, it feels like continually observing everyone watching films, while being positive they are not paying attention. In the past few years, I have had numerous people introduce themselves to me and greet me as if we had never met, even though I have been in and around their life for nearly seven years. We have talked on many occasions. I could instantly prove it true with personal details they have shared with me or near me. To what end though? What could be gained? I am a ghost in my own life. I am interwoven into all of it, and with all those I interact with, but at the same time struggling with the inability to successfully communicate and be heard.
Having the fourth wall broken when you are deep within something entertaining is unpleasant. Having the fourth wall of reality around you broken brings a mix of emotions
Freedom to hold tightly to my own principles and morals. The social pressures that make some decisions difficult melt away when you realize that you are the only one who will remember what happened.
Calm in knowing that regardless of how I react to a situation, only I will remember.
Loneliness in realizing why I struggle to connect with others is in part because while there is no definitive “right” or “wrong,” there does seem to be a distinct difference between the reality I am experiencing, and the reality most others seem to be experiencing.
Frustration with the awareness that no matter how factually or logically correct I am, it is irrelevant. If a vast majority agree to a different and consistent reality, then functionally that is in fact reality for all intents and purposes... And for the most part, I cannot seem to see it.
I find some solace in reading old philosophy. Perhaps it is a form of coping. My perception is not by any means unique, nor something new to our generation. It just is something that some experience. Some people are burdened with curiosity and question life until they open a door they cannot close. It is irrelevant to time, language, or location. If I could open that door for others, I would not. It would be nicer to be in the reality they are living in. Less lonely, at least.
Even if I were to get this message to someone, because I have at times with several individuals, by the next day they will remember only the vaguest idea of it. A few days go by. Then nothing at all. I remain utterly alone. With the burden of being aware of it.
Sisyphus had the impossible task of pushing the boulder up a hill for eternity. Just as Sisyphus continued his eternal task to hopelessly try to achieve something impossible, I similarly feel obligated to adhere to putting in the effort, even knowing I will most likely never make any progress.
One of my all time favorite movies has been Groundhog Day. I have watched it probably one hundred times in my life. In this moment it occurs to me that there are an uncomfortable number of parallels. Questioning reality, feeling like you're going insane, desperately trying to get through to anyone, deep depression, observing as much as possible around you, and in the end just trying to do your best despite being aware of the futility of it all. Perhaps it always brought me comfort because it in some way always resonated within me. If reading this has felt unsettling to you, don't worry. You'll forget it entirely very soon.
