The first time I forgot my own phone number, I laughed. I thought I was just tired.
Then I forgot why I walked into my room. Then I burned beans I had cooked since I was 12. Then I missed a deadline for work and couldn’t explain why.
The shame was worse than the forgetting. People said I was “lazy.” I started to believe them. I would sit with my phone in my hand, trying to remember who I wanted to call. My brain felt like TV static.
I didn’t know this was called “brain fog.” I didn’t know depression could steal your memory. I thought I was losing my mind.
If you’re reading this and you’ve forgotten simple things lately, I want you to hear me: You are not broken. You are not stupid. Your brain is tired, not dead.
Brain fog from depression is real. It happens when your mind is so busy fighting sadness that it has no energy left for remembering. It’s not your fault.
The day I learned this, I cried with relief. I wasn’t lazy. I was sick. And sick people can heal.
This chapter is for that moment — when you realize the fog has a name. Naming it is the first step to clearing it.
Click on this link to get full access to my book.
Loading comments...
