Yesterday was a lot harder than it had to be.

When I left the house, I was feeling pretty good.   All of my homework was caught up.   I met the neighbor, which is odd cause I never meet the neighbors.   It was a gorgeous 80-degree day.  The road was beneath my feet.  I felt pretty satisfied with my Angel v. Ferri blog.

Went through the hours waiting for Jason to get off work.   He said something about Chipolte.   While standing in line, I discovered that the wallet wasn’t in my pocket.

My world melted.

Literally, I think a sheet of white feel before my eyes.   I could feel my hands double and triple check my pockets.  I pulled myself out of line and just froze.

For a solid five minutes, I was blank.   The mind stopped processing and rebooted with a feeling of dread, shame, and panic.

The situation was resolved.    Jason picked me up on my death march back to the house.   I found my wallet, on the kitchen cabinet, under the electric bill.  He was late for class, but he didn’t care since he got out of a book review discussion.

Happily ever after and all that, but I don’t know why I acted like that.  It felt like a panic attack, but not a panic attack.    I didn’t feel like I was jabbing a dagger into my heart, but more along the lines of self-doubt about my memory and, by extension, sanity.

No, I’m not kidding.

It’s easy to brush off.   Everyone forgets something sometime, but my wallet.  It has my money, my credit cards, and my identity.    If something happened to that, I don’t know what I would do.

But, beyond that, that wallet is a symbol of what is important to me.   I wouldn’t say the most important, but definitely in the top three – security.  My license proves who I am.   Money and credit provide me options should something bad happen.

Much like Linus, I felt like I stopped functioning and my body went on auto-pilot.

Looking back, it’s just hard to comprehend.
It’s unfathomable that I would forget something that’s so important and vital to me.

Should I ask for my Prozac to be increased when I get back?
Is this early-onset dementia?

Sure, I could be reading too much into this.    I get that, but it took me hours to calm down.    Like the rest of the night.   Four, five, six hours.    That is so early similar to the panic attacks.

I would emotionally and uncontrollably detonate and could not become myself until I had effectively killed some piece of my soul.

Then, as kind of a follow-up, I was doing my thing today – cleaning up the yard.   I was getting into the nooks and crannies that are usually ignored.  Think like between the shed and fence.   Slugs and decaying leaves live there with spiders and a couple of bees.

Anyway, I had decided what I was going to do to finish filling a bag.  Stopped.  Drunk some water.    And for five minutes my mind was blank.   I had lock-stock-and barrel what I was going to do just a moment before.

It was like that white sheet from before.

Not enough to become upset over, right?

Just, being an INTX, I’m always thinking.   It’s so disturbing to just become blank.
To not think about what I thought or could think.
To forget what is important.

I don’t get it.