I am too embarrassed to come here. I would have to tell you about a moment I was at work, holding the hand of a young child. I looked down at him and his name was gone. From my brain. I had just asked his teacher less than two minutes ago what his name was. I can’t keep walking to the photographer to take his picture without knowing his name. I walk him back to the classroom, and ask the teacher again what his name is. She looks astounded at my stupidity and tells me his name. I repeat it over and over in my brain as we walk down the hall; I am chasing away all the other overwhelming thoughts in my head so I can keep his name right there.

But it’s not the first time. The day before, I walked a young girl down the hall and lost her name from my brain as I approached the photographer.

“Name?”

I stammer. “um. um…” trying desperately to recall, but nothing comes to mind.

“That quick, huh?” The photographer says.

Yes, I think to myself. I forgot her name that quick.

Why does this happen to me? It must be either my medication or my anxiety, or a combination of both. But the photographer does not know I am bipolar. That I have trouble with my working memory and short term memory. The one thing she does know is there is something wrong with me. I am dim witted. I am slow. I don’t walk through this world with grace.

Two of my photo sessions get cancelled. Is she edging me out? Why am I only working twice a month instead of every day? She said the work was seasonal. It didn’t occur to me to ask what exactly that means, I was just so happy to have a job.

I am now one of them. The bipolar person that goes from job to job. I understand now why that happens. I used to think I was just more responsible than other people. Not as sick. It aches in my heart to know that I was so misguided. So judgmental. And sicker than I realized.

I am doing daily brain exercises to see if I can improve my memory. I am looking for another job. I am still trying. I won’t allow myself to get depressed. That’s a dangerous way to think. Let’s try again. I will keep an eye out for signs of depression. Maybe I will never walk through this world with grace. But I’m not going to stand still unless depression tells me to. I may struggle with my memory, but I remember what to do when the darkness comes.