Most people dismiss early memory lapses as “normal aging” while secretly panicking about what they might really mean.
That was me. I started forgetting shit constantly these days, and it began to freak me the fuck out.
The constant anxiety of wondering if I was genuinely slipping away created a self-fulfilling prophecy of more forgetfulness, but I did it anyway. The anxiety made me question my sanity when it took 20 minutes to find my car keys in the pants I wore—only to discover they were in the other pair of pants I wore. That anxiety forced me to confront the possibility that my brain might be following the same treacherous path as my parent's, who now salutes me like a fucking cadet because all he registers is “CHINESE MALE LIKE ME” (which, if I'm being honest, isn't that far off from our pre-dementia relationship dynamic).
Understanding the difference between normal forgetfulness and concerning patterns is my…
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