For almost a month now, it has felt as though there is a damper over my “normal” abilities.
Tru here.
I know cognitive fluctuation.
I have lived with it for years.
Abilities disappear. Sometimes dramatically.
Then they come back.
Maybe not completely. Maybe not for long. But there is movement. There are better hours and worse hours, better days and worse days.
That is part of the rotating weather I have learned to live within.
But this doesn’t feel like that.
There are still variations within my days. Some hours are better. Some tasks are easier.
But for nearly a month now, my abilities have not picked back up.
And I am SOOoo tired.
Not simply sleepy-tired.
Tired of trying to accomplish things with what feels like a damper over the abilities I normally depend upon.
What happens when the window doesn’t open?
A few weeks ago I wrote When the Window Closes.
I wrote about recognizing when I had reached the edge of my capacity. I wrote about letting unfinished things wait.
And I reminded myself:
The rest can wait.
Your window will open again.
Except—
it hasn’t.
For almost a month, more and more of my life has been put on the back burner.
Working on my books.
Connecting through words with online friends and care-partners.
eMails.
Tutorials.
Watching my grandson’s sports events.
So many things.
And these aren’t merely tasks waiting to be crossed off a ToDo list.
They are pieces of my life.
I have been putting them on hold because I expected my abilities to pick back up.
That made sense.
When abilities fluctuate, sometimes the best strategy really is to wait.
Don’t force it.
Don’t use precious cognitive energy fighting a brain that isn’t capable of doing something today.
Put it aside.
Come back when the window opens wider.
But how long do I keep waiting?
At what point do I holler UNCLE?
At what point do I stop treating this as something I am waiting out and begin making stronger revisions to how I do things?
Not simply postponing tasks until I am better able to do them.
Redesigning them for the abilities I actually have right now.
That is a much harder decision.
Because postponing says:
I will get back to this.
Redesigning says:
I may need a different way to live this part of my life.
And I don’t know yet which one I need.
And time itself has become part of the problem.
Every little task seems to consume it voraciously right now.
Getting a cup of coffee.
Signing a picture.
Saving it in the right place.
Things I have done hundreds or thousands of times.
I make a mistake.
Then I need to correct the mistake.
While correcting it, I lose track of where I was.
Then I have to figure out how to get back to what I was doing before the mistake happened.
One small task becomes three or four tasks.
This isn’t entirely new.
Mistakes, losing my place, and needing extra time have been part of my brain changes for years.
But suddenly it feels doubled.
And there is a cost beyond the minutes on the clock.
There needs to be time to console myself.
Time to cry sometimes.
Time to cuddle the dog.
Time to recover enough emotional energy to try the next little thing.
Meanwhile, time is being consumed voraciously.
Not by the things I wanted to do with my life—
but increasingly by the effort required simply to do them.
And while I was writing about this, it happened again.
I lost which browser had my blog open.
Finding where I was writing became another task before I could return to writing about how every task keeps becoming more tasks.
Then I couldn’t seem to copy and paste what I had already written.
I know how to copy and paste.
But apparently I wasn’t pushing the correct buttons.
Another tiny task.
Another interruption.
Another place lost.
Another piece of time consumed trying to find my way back.
… THEN i forget how to attach a Link. i dont remember how, and i do not remember how to find out so i give up on it.
This is what I am trying to describe.
And sometimes I want to cry.
There are things on that back burner that matter enormously to me.
My books are among them.
Right now, I don’t see how I can finish them unless my abilities increase again.
That is difficult enough to acknowledge.
But these books don’t contain only my words.
Other people have entrusted some of their words to me. They are looking forward to seeing those words in print.
And sometimes I think about what happens if I cannot get us there.
They will be disappointed.
I will be disappointed.
And that possibility hurts.
I am not saying that I won’t finish the books.
I don’t know that.
But right now I also cannot confidently say that I will.
That uncertainty is part of what I am grieving.
I don’t know whether this damper will lift.
I don’t know whether some of these abilities will come wandering back tomorrow, next week, or next month.
And I don’t know whether this is something different that requires a more permanent redesign.
I simply know that waiting has consequences, too.
While I wait for my abilities to return, pieces of my life are waiting with them.
And while I spend more and more time correcting mistakes and finding my way back to what I was doing, there is less time—and less of me left—for the things I was trying to do in the first place.
Maybe that is where I am today.
Not ready to declare a new normal.
But no longer quite able to organize my life around the assumption that the old normal will be back tomorrow.
Somewhere between waiting and redesign.
That is a much harder decision.
Because postponing says:
I will get back to this.
Redesigning says:
I may need a different way to live this part of my life.
And I don’t know yet which one I need.
I don’t know whether this damper will lift.
I don’t know whether some of these abilities will come wandering back tomorrow, next week, or next month.
And I don’t know whether this is something different that requires a more permanent redesign.
I simply know that waiting has consequences, too.
While I wait for my abilities to return, pieces of my life are waiting with them.
Maybe that is where I am today.
Not ready to declare a new normal.
But no longer quite able to organize my life around the assumption that the old normal will be back tomorrow.
Somewhere between waiting and redesign.
This one (painted 2022Feb22) is titled “As Abilities Slip Thru my Fingers”.
Associated LINKS on my own Blogsite:
My personal Facebook profile is under the name “Truthful Kindness,” and you can find more about me on this blog under the “About” tab (although that page was posted long ago and also needs updating). >> https://truthfulkindness.com/about/about-me/
i was going to add Link to my entry “wHEN THE wINDOW cLOSES” … BUT CANNOT REMEMBER HOW. AND I AM GETTING SO FRUSTRATED WITH FINGERS THAT WILL NOT COOPERATE. BUT I AM DONE NOW.
Attached Picture: TenderlyHeld 2026
Created from a combination of three of my own paintings plus my Mother’s Day bouquet, then reworked into this exploration of movement, entanglement, softness, and light.
Contact Options:
Other contact options are FaceBook and “X” (aka Twitter), both under “Truthful Kindness”. On Reddit, i am at “TruthfulKindness” in groups “r/dementia”, “r/lewybodydementia”, and “r/alzheimers”. i dropped my LinkedIn membership quite a few years ago. If requesting “friend” status for any form of Social media, please send a private message explaining that you are a reader of my blog. …
* Admin Notes — This entry began 2026Sep16 … and is by Truthful Loving Kindness (my full legal name) for https://truthfulkindness.com/. For comments or questions, please use that website. The subscription box is now located at the bottom of each blog entry. i also write and publish under the shorter name Truthful Kindness. My current formal diagnosis remains at the stage of Mild Cognitive Impairment, although my Primary Care Physician and several other medical professionals consider it some form of dementia; my PCP records currently state “Dementia without behavioral disturbance, unspecified dementia type.” In recent years, my PCP, my husband/care-partner, and I have jointly decided to discontinue specialist consultations, as the distance and emotional strain of repeated evaluations are not worth the cost to my well-being. My symptoms most closely resemble Lewy Body and vascular dementia patterns; however, SPECT and PET imaging show the most significant brain changes in the temporal lobes, creating overlap with the logopenic variant of Primary Progressive Aphasia (PPA), a subtype within the frontotemporal dementia spectrum. Nothing in this blog is meant as medical, legal, or service dog advice; what I share here comes from lived experience—an attempt to design around decline and make daily life more workable—so please use your own judgment and consult professionals who understand your specific situation. Text Copyright © Truthful L. Kindness, 2026Sep16. You can learn more about me under the “About Me” tab (note: that page is due for updating). Comments are welcome—please filter them through truthful loving kindness toward all concerned. As of 2026, I use ChatGPT as an editor, which improves readability and reduces the time I spend in the writing process. I do not mind re-posting of my work; however, if you do re-post, you must clearly indicate that the writing is not your own, prominently identify my authorship as Truthful Kindness, and include a clear link to my website so that questions and comments can be directed to me personally: at http://www.truthfulkindness.com.
*** categ: Journal, Symptoms, Dementia Symptom Tips, vascular . *** tags: cognitive change, cognitive decline, cognitive fluctuation, dementia, fatigue, loss of abilities, Persons Living with Dementia, redesign, vascular dementia, waiting . *** Add to Pgs/ *** S&S Categ Fatigue, Cognition/Thinking, Coping/Adaptation
PS of Ai short summary: Living with a prolonged loss of cognitive capacity, and facing the difficult question of when waiting needs to become redesign.










