I
lead a charmed life! I am infatuated like a man head-over-heals in
love. Every day I celebrate the wonderful things that happen to me. This
is because of my brain dysfunction. My neurons are awash with a surplus
of dopamine. You've heard the saying, "Every cloud has a silver
lining?" Well, I never see the clouds, only the silver. I turn
everything that happens to me into a positive experience.
What does this have to do with memories?
My
rosy view leaves me with no "bad" memories. I turn them into "good"
memories or forget them. You might think this is useful, might even wish
you had the same ability, but it does have some side-effects.
For
example, it is easy for me to forgive (and forget). It makes me appear
very compassionate. I lent money to a man in need, even though two years
ago I had lent him money which he didn't pay back. I only knew he
borrowed the money two years ago because I have a book of the loans I
make. I found his previous loan when I was looking for a page to write
down his current loan.
Another example, I am very trusting of
people, even if I don't know them. Luckily, in my experience, the vast
majority of all people deserve my trust. But it has also exposed me to
significant risk, times when those around me warn me to be more careful.
Like the old man who warned me that the young man walking behind him
had a gun. In that case, I chose to ignore the “cloud” and see only the
“silver”. Unfortunately, I was proven mistaken as the young man pulled
me into an alley and robbed me at gunpoint. Because of this, I
considered getting a gun to protect myself. But after a couple months I
felt safe without one once more.
Even more disturbing was my
realization that most of my greatest epiphanies may not be so grand as I
imagined. As I survey the piles of papers towering from every
horizontal surface in my office, I see how my rose-colored glasses
combined with my active imagination have held me back. I have kept my
ideas as daydreams, which was safer than risking the judgment of the
rest of the world. There is no applause louder than the applause
imagined!
After
59 years, including several recent years of clinical depression, I have
learned the world is much simpler than I thought it was. The mistaken
complexity comes from my perception, which is all in my head. Though
painfully humbling, my new-found understanding has freed me from
martyrdom. I have found peace in knowing that the world depends on all
of our actions, not just on my own.
Still, I am wracked with
questions. Have I failed to meet my potential? Not given my best? Am I
protecting myself from my disappointment with my life? From the
insignificance of my death? I really don't know. But I do know I have
done a good job at being a human being. If I were to die today, I would
be satisfied with my life and the choices I have made. And others would
say, “He was a good man.” Or is this yet another example of the
conclusions of a selective memory?
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