One of the things I can honestly say I miss the most about being young is my brain.
It used to be better than a Sham-Wow at absorbing any and all types of information, no matter in what format it was presented in. Going to show me a demonstration, got it; watch it once, I can repeat it. Gonna tell me about it, ok, I used to be able to see the final outcome or predict the next step before you said it. I would read and read and read, hours on end. Even to this day I am surrounded by books, some still in hard copy, a lot in the electronic version. But somewhere between the ages of 45 and 46, something changed.
Before I considered myself a multi-tasker because while someone could be telling me a story, I could walk off, perform a task, and come back to ask them an appropriate question about what they were informing me of. I was particularly good at honing this skill since Scooter was diagnosed as ADHD at an early age. So, with him, one need to master this ability quite quickly if you were to prevent a disaster from occurring.
Yet, there was one habit that followed me through all the years of my life: unfinished projects. I could get my interest peaked about learning something, say, crocheting. I got some yarn, watch my Granny as she showed me the stitches, and I would practice. I perfected a single chain, double chain, etc. But somewhere in the throes of the back and forth repetition, I lost interest. Eventually I ended up with lots and lots of long, thin, scarves consisting of about 10 crocheted rows. Next, I tried making granny squares and that kept me going for a little while; trying to perfect those square corners always seemed to elude me. But soon, the oddly shaped squares I could never seem to get to match up just right, ended up tossed in a box.
One day I visited a cousin, she was cross-stitching. She had made me a piece with a girl in a graduation cap and gown. She told me all about it and gave me a copy of a pattern for a castle. She would be thrilled to know, I still have that pattern, some 30 years later, and the castle still isn't done.
But it seemed to me, that throughout my life, I have had various "unfinished" things. Those which, if I wasn't required by law to do, then my attention was lost and the project/learning/job went by the wayside. Heck, I didn't even finish either of my pregnancies by going through labor of my own accord: Zex, refused to exit the womb despite massive doses of Pitocin, so, he was a C-section, and well, Scooter, he tried to and successfully refused to stay in the womb, so, he was a 6-week preemie.
Now, that I am at the age where it is wise for one to reflect back on her successes and failures, I am forcing myself to accept that I am definitely in reverse mode. Somewhere around the age of 30, I was able to conquer the inability to finish a task by completing my first degree. I was able to harness whatever it is that is hiding itself from me now and use it to forge out a career. But it took me another 10 years to decide to do the second degree and once again, I was able to corral my brain into behaving and staying on task. I completed that when I was 45.
Yet, it's only 2 years later and whatever the magical cure was seems to have left. I still have the desire to learn, but I can't sit still long enough to concentrate. I'm interested in all kinds of information but I hate to have to sort through bloated amounts of material to try to glean the pertinent facts from it. I have videos, I have webcasts/podcasts, I have books, I have schedules, and I have Adderall; all of which I have tried in vain to find what is the missing piece.
Was it a chemical change? Did the part of my brain which I so desperately need to use finally decide it had had enough abuse and has now vacated my skull? Is this a normal part of the aging process? Is it due to too many artificial sweeteners, carbs, pesticides, etc?
Or have I simply lost my mojo? Have I gone the way of Austin Powers in "The Spy Who Shagged Me"? If so, then I definitely need a time machine to go back and find it.
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