I’m back at last … back to how I was before I lost my mind. Sitting in the tranquil Daintree Rainforest in Far North Queensland, I roll a ball of black sapote ice-cream around my mouth, feeling all the terrible anxiety I’ve carried for the last year melt away – just like this delicious rainforest fruit ice-cream melts in my mouth. Travelling alone up to Cape Tribulation, Kulki country, to the most beautiful place on Earth – the northern tip of Australia – has been my ultimate test.
It’s been quite a journey because, you see, on Sunday, March 1, 2020, I lost my mind. Not just for a minute, but for an entire day. Gone. I have no memory at all of what took place – and I never will. What happened, and why, remains a total mystery to me. I only know what those people close to me told me about what happened. I’ve only got second-hand memories of the day when my brain froze.
What is memory exactly? I’d never asked this question until I lost mine. One minute mine was there, just as it always had been, like a well-worn, much-loved suitcase at the back of the cupboard. It was reliable (well, mostly) and it could always be dialled up at will. But in an instant, my memory was gone. I had no recall of anything I’d been doing on that Sunday. None.
Consternation set in. Not just mine. I phoned some friends four times in 10 minutes to check on a dinner date that evening, saying, “I’m a bit confused. Am I coming to dinner tonight?” “Yes,” they said. After my fourth call, they rang my daughter, Lola. “We’re worried about Dasha,” they said.
Esta historia es de la edición June 2021 de The Australian Women's Weekly.
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Esta historia es de la edición June 2021 de The Australian Women's Weekly.
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