Losing Things.

So many things escape me. Like little moments of clarity that light up my thinking, to only slip away in the next breath. The realization that I can choose to behave or respond in whatever way I want. That my path is not destiny or fate, but manifest in the decisions I make. Of course there are factors beyond my control. Everything about my life is about not having control of any of it, except for what I do in the face of it all, what I decide to do with what comes my way. I do get to choose. I can choose to act, not act, lie, cheat or steal...to tell the truth or act with morality. But I seem to be losing myself. Losing the continuity of the distinctive weave of who I am...the predictability of my actions or choices.

I worry. It seems I can't follow a thread of thought, hang on to it, or come back to it later because it's simply too fugitive. Dementia is my fear. A slow loss of my faculties, a loss so slow that it goes unrecognized by most. Today, I had one of those slips where I said something clearly so off track that the man I spoke the words to just looked at me trying to decide where I was going with this nonsense coming out of my mouth. What scared me is that I knew what I had said made no sense, not because I recognized my mistake, but because his expression told me he was confused. I wasn't sure what part was nonsensical because I couldn't recall what it was I had said.