bekah brunstetter
Bekah Brunstetter I care deeply. About a lot of things. Like really, really deep. Ow
playwright in brooklyn, NY


January 25th, 2013 by Bekah Brunstetter

I heard this story the other day about this woman who would find that every now and then, suddenly, her world would shift 90 degrees. It all started at a birthday party when she was 5, and spun around the pin the tail on the donkey: when she removed her blindfold, she had no idea where she was. North had gone east, east had gone south, etc. She felt like a witch and / or freak most of her life, until, thanks to the internet, she was able to find a name for the disorder, and connect with other people who experienced the same thing. Turns out it’s caused by an  underdeveloped hippocampus which also causes the endlessly fascinating face blindness. There’s no cure, and she’ll always be this way, but still: finding a NAME for what was afflicting her provided a whole lot of comfort.

Which makes me Couldn’t Help but Wonder: is there a name for how I seem to have practically no long term memory except for tiny images and slices of moments? The other day I tried to remember what I did for my birthdays in high school, like ANY of them, and after much squinting all I could see was a Party City vest stuffed in the back seat of my car; sitting cross legged in the middle of someone’s driveway; glittery eye shadow. I wish there was a name for this other than  forgetful avoidance or unable to remember anything ever  or not the sharpest crayon in the box. I wish I could just name it, and then have it be fine.

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