I used to think that. Then I realized I was dissociating all my memories away, and that my panic attacks were reality catching up to me. My life’s fairly empty, but things definitely happen, I just don’t remember them. It wasn’t until I started living with someone else that I had someone to remind me of all the things I forget.
But I figure, my brain’s doing it for a reason, right? Guess this is just how I deal with the stresses of life. It has its disadvantages, and I’m no stranger to hating myself for not remembering things, but any other way of getting through life would have its own downsides. Or so I tell myself.