Can a picture paint a thousand words?

I certainly hope so. I’m relying on it.

by Lisa Mitchell-Ross

I’ve lived a great life, full of travel: 13 changes of country with all the cultural sights, sounds and experiences that brings, not to mention numerous holidays in far-flung places.

The blot on this ‘great life’—I struggle to remember any of it. My memory has gone. And I am somehow unable to make new memories.

My daughters no longer ask me ‘what was I like? What did I do as a child?’ as my answer is invariably ‘I can’t remember’. There’s a huge difference between the things I know (because they are family anecdotes or because we have the photograph) and the emotions I must have felt at such times. I cannot remember actually having either of my girls or bring to mind the moment of holding them in my arms that very first time. All those milestone moments—talking, walking, first day of school—are gone and I must have felt such joy and pride in them.

My husband and I have been married for 28 years—I can’t remember our wedding day. Again, there are loads of photos and I know it was one of the most wonderful, exciting days of my life but I cannot put myself back in the moment. He has a brilliant memory and is constantly able to tell me about holidays, trips and many, many special moments we have shared—all of which I know I enjoyed. I feel like shouting out ‘I have loved my life!’ because every time he or anyone else asks ‘Can you remember…?’ the answer is invariably no. Perhaps I should insist on that being my epitaph.

My childhood growing up in Africa and Australia is gone.

I have lost both parents (to an accident and an illness) and know only that they were wonderful people who I loved dearly. I struggle to bring any particular moment with them to mind.

I don’t know when I first realised that all these memories have gone but the more I have become aware of it, the more it has upset me. I now feel as if I am living on the edge of my life—witnessing and recording it rather than as a true participant.

I didn’t seek professional help until it occurred to me that we had a once-in-a-lifetime family holiday looming and our eldest daughter’s wedding just eight months after that; both of which I wanted to be able to remember in the smallest detail possible.

My GP was very sympathetic if somewhat baffled that it was my long-term memory which was failing me when short-term recall was fine. We went down the route of MRI scan and testing for dementia—I got to see my brain and to my huge relief, it was declared very healthy with absolutely no signs of imminent dementia. The specialist concluded the issue is psychological and suggested I may have suffered some sort of trauma which has blocked my memory. He and the other specialist in my life—my sister—both suggested that the loss of both parents may have triggered this blockage. Perhaps I am too matter-of-fact but tragic as these events were, I don’t consider them to be a trauma but rather a sad fact of life that happens to people the world over—we all suffer great losses along the way.

I have been referred to a psychiatrist but, almost a year on, am still awaiting an appointment. In the meantime, I am making the effort to live every moment as it comes, the phone is constantly out taking photos and I am filling in a diary more religiously than I have ever managed to do so before.

Needless to say, the wonderful holiday has been and gone—I thoroughly enjoyed it and know I did so because we have a multitude of fantastic photos. But ask me what we did and I can’t tell you without referring back to my diary and that collection of photos.

And the family wedding? We had all those exciting months of dress-fittings and planning for it all to come together seven months ago in the most magical of days, full of love and joy. This I know. But I cannot bring back that feeling inside me of the moment we walked the bride down the aisle as a family. I know I felt the emotions because in practically every photo of me throughout the day I am struggling not to cry!

I suppose we don’t really think about it when all is well but it seems to me now that our memories are linked heavily to our feelings and our emotional state of being rather than just recalling facts—and I know I am an emotional person, there’s just something stopping me from reliving all these precious moments.

And my greatest fear? If anything should ever happen to my husband, daughters or closest family and friends… would I be able to remember them?

I’m going to go and chase up that appointment. ■