The Ramblings of a Mental Meanderthal

Whatever I'm doing when I'm at home, it feels like I'm carrying a box of rocks around. Each rock is something for me to remember: a task to do, an appointment to write down, a medication to take, a timer to set. I walk around worried I'm going to forget something before I get the chance to accomplish it, or at least write it down. I am very easily distracted, and I forget stuff a lot. I walk into my parents' view, and it's like they think I blinked into existence just to do things for them. Don't forget to do my laundry. Since you're up, get me an ice cream sandwich. Have you emptied the bins yet? Go look in my bottom drawer for [thing] so you can clean it; I need it on Friday. The reason I emerged from my room was to do something that would lighten my own load a little. I finish a task so one of my own rocks will vanish, but every task they unload on me is another rock. I ask them not to unload it all on me at once because I will forget not only their s

This is not a dissertation or even a proper essay, just getting some thoughts out. Babbling, really. The women's chorus I sing in is working on a song with lyrics penned by Anne Frank. (Edited, I think, but pretty close to her original words.) The piece we're singing includes the words, "I lie in bed at night after ending my prayers with the words, Thank you, God, for all that is good and dear and beautiful , and I'm filled with joy." I've had that part of the song stuck in my mind most of the evening. (I've had possible good news, but other factors have still coaxed me into anxiety. I'm still trying to look on the bright side until I know more.) I've also thought about a book by Rabbi Naomi Levy. She has written (possibly also edited) prayers for people to utter in certain situations, like success on a job hunt, the death of a child or spouse or parent, a difficult diagnosis, the birth of a baby, or success in a specific endeavor. I was raised to