Here I sit, my laptop open on a new blank document and a haze of confusion filling my head. I know I opened this to try to write a blog post on living with FND but I can’t remember much else. I know I’ve been trying to for a while and keep forgetting what to say and what to do. I panic about not having figured out a WordPress website yet. Or I don’t have the energy to even open my laptop. Or I can’t see well enough to use my computer. Or one of countless other unpredictable symptoms will incapacitate me and derail my attempts at starting up. So despite the haze of confusion I will push on wards and write.
Once I would read long, multi book sagas set in elaborate fantasy lands and have no problems following along and comprehending, but my mind has lost that ability. I can’t keep track of much in my mind anymore and have had to say goodbye to spending many hours reading. I miss it. I thought for the longest time that it was just me becoming the lazy and entitled person that I was told by society I was. It’s only been in the past six months that I have stopped blaming myself. How many other people right now think that they are just not trying hard enough.
It’s not just the ability to read that this has taken from me, I have a large number of cognitive issues that overlap with dementia. If for example, I am going to another room to get my drink because I am thirsty, I will have to keep saying “drink drink drink” to myself or I will forget. I forget words often and use synonyms that don’t actually exist. I forget to finish tasks halfway through and leave partial projects everywhere that I don’t know are mine. I am the person in the commercials that won’t stop buying lemons and milk.
It’s now been three days since I sat down to write this essay and even attempting to read what I have written is proving near impossible. I simply cannot understand and read past the first word or two before it turns itself into nothing more than blurred lines. I can do little more than hope that it makes sense. I suppose I could ask a friend to proofread, but I already ask for so much help. I do not want to bother someone for the umpteenth time and then make them feel bad for my inability to do things as I once could.
It’s not all bad though. I have a fantastic home with a fantastic chosen family. So much time treating this as a mental illness instead of neurological has allowed me to tackle the mental issues that have been plaguing me. My overpowering suicidal tendencies and my crippling depression are no longer an overwhelming monster that I am always attempting to save myself from. I have learned to love myself and admire my own work. I’ve finished my transformation from who I was with my dead-name to the Alex of today. And now I get to finally enjoy life as so many others.