Betrayal From The Brain: The Untold Story

Betrayal from my brain is becoming worse each day. This post is a symbolic struggle of losing important cognitive abilities. It’s not meant to make you feel sorry for me.

The first time I noticed it, I was mid-sentence, talking like normal, and then my mind went quiet.

Not peaceful quiet. More like someone yanked the power cord out of the wall.

I stared at the person in front of me, blinking like I was buffering, while my cheeks got hot. I could feel the panic rise because I knew I should know what I was saying.

Yet the point was gone. I laughed it off, but inside I felt this sharp, private betrayal. Not from a friend, not from family, not from work, but from my own brain.

Since then, it’s happened in small ways and in scary ways. I don’t know if it is a specific med (so I’ve been told), or if it might be early-onset dementia (my mother had dementia).

In this post, I’m going to put words to what it feels like, how certain medicines might play a role, why it can feel so personal, and the practical things I’m doing to steady myself and improve. Not overnight, but for real.

The saddest thing about betrayal is that it never comes from your enemies”-Unknown

When My Brain Betrays Me in Real Time: Losing Concentration Mid-Thought

Betrayal doesn’t always look dramatic from the outside. Sometimes it’s just a tiny slip. Still, to me, it can feel like stepping onto a stair that isn’t there.

It happens while I’m reading, when my eyes keep moving but nothing lands. It happens while I’m cooking, when I turn around to grab one thing and forget what it was, even though I was sure I’d remember.

Also, it happens at work, when I open a tab for a task and then start three other things because my attention “snaps” and skitters away.

What makes it worse is the timing. It loves to strike when I’m trying to sound competent. So, I’ll be explaining something, telling a story, giving directions, and then I lose the thread.

My mind reaches for the next word and comes up empty. Meanwhile, the other person waits, and that waiting feels loud.

Under the hood, attention and working memory are doing a lot of heavy lifting. Attention is the spotlight. Working memory is the small mental notepad that holds the “current thought” long enough to use it.

When I’m stressed, short on sleep, or overloaded, that spotlight wobbles, and the notepad gets smudged. If you’ve ever felt foggy after a bad night or a rough week, you know what I mean.

The Cleveland Clinic’s overview of brain fog symptoms and causes describes it in a way that matches what I’ve lived, not just forgetfulness, but slowed thinking, trouble focusing, and feeling mentally “off.”

Emotionally, though, it doesn’t land like a neutral symptom. It lands like a character flaw.

I’ve felt shame because I worry people think I’m not paying attention. I’ve felt anger because I’m trying, and it still happens.

Also, I’ve felt fear because once you notice your mind can drop a thought without warning, you start scanning for it. Then, ironically, the scanning makes it easier to blank out again.

The moment it happens: the sentence disappears, and I freeze

Here’s the most honest version of betrayal by my brain.

I’m talking. I’m fine. Then I feel the click, like a latch slipping. My eyes go slightly unfocused. I stop moving my hands. My mouth stays half-open because my body expects the next word to show up.

Sometimes I do a “helpful” thing and rush. I fill the silence with filler sounds. That usually makes it worse.

So, lately, I’ve been practicing a slower recovery:

So, I pause. I inhale. I say, “Give me a second, I lost my thought.” Then I repeat the last line I remember, like backing up a car. Often, that gentle rewind brings the sentence back.

And if it doesn’t, I don’t punish myself for it anymore (or at least I try not to).

Why it feels personal: what I tell myself after I blank out

Right after I blank, my inner voice starts grabbing at meaning.

“Am I getting worse?”
“Is something wrong with me?”
“What if this is permanent?”

Even when nothing huge is happening, fear makes the moment feel dangerous. Then my body responds like it’s under threat. My heart speeds up. My breathing goes shallow. As a result, the thinking part of me gets even less room to work.

In other words, the blank moment becomes a loop. I blank, I panic, and then I blank harder.

Naming that loop has helped. It doesn’t fix everything, but it gives me a handle to hold.

The Slow Fade of Short-Term Memory: What It Feels Like Day to Day

Short-term memory problems aren’t always a dramatic blackout. More often, they’re daily glitches that steal time and confidence in tiny bites.

I’ll walk into a room and forget why I’m there. I’ll set something down “for one second” and then spend ten minutes hunting it.

Also, I’ll meet someone, hear their name, repeat it politely, and lose it anyway, almost instantly. While each one is small, the pattern is what scares me.

Because the slow change messes with my sense of who I am.

I can handle a mistake. I can’t easily handle not knowing if I can trust my mind. That’s where the betrayal feeling grows. It’s not just forgetfulness, it’s the doubt that follows me around afterward.

When I need a reality check, I look at more grounded guidance about what’s common and what deserves attention. Mayo Clinic’s page on when to seek help for memory loss is a steady resource because it keeps things practical, not alarmist.

“Betrayal is never easy to handle and there is no right way to accept it.” – Christine Feehan

Small glitches that add up: the daily patterns I started noticing

These are the signs that made me pause and pay attention (not a diagnosis, just my lived list):

I walk into a room, then stop, because the reason vanished.
I re-read the same paragraph three times, yet it still won’t stick.
I repeat a story because I truly don’t remember telling it.
I lose my keys even when I “always” put them in the same spot.
I forget a new name right after hearing it, even when I care.
I open my laptop for one task, then forget what it was (work gets messy fast).
I start cooking, then realize I’ve skipped a step I’ve done a hundred times.

I used to shrug these off. Now, I track them because patterns tell the truth better than panic does.

The hidden cost: how memory problems change my choices

Over time, I noticed I was adjusting my life around the glitches.

I avoided jumping into fast conversations, because I didn’t trust my recall. I stopped volunteering for certain tasks, because I didn’t want to look unreliable. Also, I double-checked everything, which sounds responsible until you realize it eats up your whole day.

Masking is its own kind of exhaustion. I’ll smile, nod, and pretend I’m fine, while my brain works overtime behind the scenes. Then I get home and crash, not only from the work, but from the performance.

Could My Medicine Be Part of the Betrayal? Memory Loss Side Effects to Know

I didn’t want to consider this at first. I wanted a simpler story, like “I’m just tired.” Still, the more I paid attention, the more I had to admit a hard truth: some medicines can fog up memory and focus.

That doesn’t make them bad. Many of them help people function, sleep, breathe, heal, and survive. However, side effects are real, and sometimes they look like “I can’t think straight.”

Recent health reporting and reviews up through late 2025 keep pointing to the same usual suspects, especially with higher doses, long-term use, mixing sedating meds, alcohol, or in older adults.

This overview from Health.com on common medications that can cause memory loss matches what I’ve heard echoed by pharmacists and clinicians: it’s often about the class of medication, not one single pill.

In plain language, here’s what can happen in the brain:

Some meds slow signaling, so thinking feels thick and delayed.
Some block acetylcholine, a key chemical for memory and learning.
Some can make it harder to form new memories, even if you seem awake.

Also, there’s a safety line I take seriously. Sudden confusion, getting lost, near-misses while driving, falls, or symptoms that keep worsening deserve prompt medical advice.

Medicine types linked with brain fog and forgetfulness (and why)

I keep this list as a “review with my clinician” guide, not a self-diagnosis tool:

Benzodiazepines (alprazolam, diazepam, lorazepam): These can calm anxiety, yet they can also cause sedation and short-term amnesia by boosting GABA, a slowing signal in the brain.

Anticholinergics (diphenhydramine, the antihistamine in many “PM” products): These can dry you out and make you sleepy, while also blocking acetylcholine, which can affect memory and attention. BrightFocus has a helpful explainer on medications that can mimic dementia-like symptoms, and even if the topic is scary, the point is hopeful: sometimes the cause is reversible.

Statins (atorvastatin, simvastatin): Some people report memory issues. The research is mixed, but it’s worth discussing if timing lines up for you.

Anticonvulsants (gabapentin, pregabalin, topiramate): These can be lifesavers for seizures and nerve pain. At the same time, they can slow brain activity, which can show up as word-finding trouble or poor concentration.

Opioids (like oxycodone): Pain relief can come with mental clouding, because these drugs can blunt alertness and memory formation.

PPIs for reflux (omeprazole, esomeprazole): Some long-term use concerns exist, and they can also relate indirectly to cognition through nutrient issues in some people, like low B12.

Sleep meds (zolpidem): These can help with sleep short-term, yet they can also affect memory, especially around the time you take them.

Again, none of this means “panic.” It means “review.”

Ways I Try to Stop It and Cope With the Betrayal

I wish I could say I found one magic habit and everything snapped back into place. Instead, what’s helped is a mix of basics, scaffolding, and emotional honesty.

First, I work on the body stuff because my brain lives in my body. Sleep, movement, hydration, and real meals don’t cure everything, but they do give me a fair shot. On days I skip them, I pay for it.

Next, I build external supports so my brain doesn’t have to hold every detail alone. Harvard Health’s practical suggestions for fuzzy memory strategies line up with what I’ve learned the hard way: simple systems beat willpower.

“Betrayal can be extremely painful, but it’s up to you how much that pain damages you permanently.” – Emily V. Gordon

Practical tools that catch me when my memory drops

These are the tactics I actually use, because they work even when I’m tired:

One notebook system: I keep a single small notebook for tasks and notes, so I’m not chasing info across five places.
Phone reminders for time-based stuff: If it needs to happen at 3:00, it goes in my phone, not in my head.
Sticky notes in one location: I use one spot only, otherwise sticky notes turn into wallpaper.
Saying tasks out loud: “I’m putting my keys in the bowl,” sounds silly, yet it helps the memory “stick.”
Essentials in a single home: Keys, wallet, glasses, and earbuds live in one bowl by the door.
Checklists for repeat routines: Groceries, packing, and shutdown lists keep me from forgetting basic steps.
Reducing multitasking on purpose: I finish one thing before starting the next, even when I want to sprint.
Short breaks to reset: Two minutes of water and breathing can pull me out of a fog spiral.

I don’t do all of these perfectly. Still, when I use even two consistently, my days go smoother.

Rebuilding trust with my brain: coping when I feel betrayed

This part is quieter, but it matters more.

When my mind blanks, I feel grief first. Then anger. Then fear. So, I try to meet those feelings with a slower pace instead of more pressure. I remind myself that symptoms aren’t a moral score.

I also use honest scripts, because hiding makes it heavier:

“I lost my thought, give me a second.”
“Can you repeat that last part?”
“I’m writing this down so I don’t miss it.”

If the fear keeps tightening, I consider therapy or support, not because I’m broken, but because I’m human. And when I look for proof that I’m still me, I focus on what’s working: my instincts, my kindness, my ability to problem-solve, my sense of humor, my care for other people.

Improvement can happen. Even when it’s slow, a life can still be good.

“When you betray somebody else, you also betray yourself.” – Unknown

Sum It All UP: Naming the Betrayal, Then Choosing the Next Step

If you’ve felt betrayal from your own brain, I get it. The embarrassment is real, and so is the fear.

Still, these symptoms are common, and they don’t automatically mean the worst. Sometimes the cause is stress or sleep, and sometimes medicines are a hidden piece of the puzzle.

I can’t just switch meds, because it’s the whole class of meds that affects memory. And it’s the only med that has been able to fight against my unwanted thoughts. It’s keeping me sane.

I keep one rule steady: I get medical guidance, and I don’t stop meds suddenly or in secret. My brain deserves safety, even when I’m frustrated with it.

One day, I won’t be able to write anymore, and that will be a sad day for me. But I must move on and find my peace with wherever my life takes me.

I’m choosing patience, even when I don’t feel patient, and I’m learning how to trust myself again.

Cindee Murphy
“One voice whose mind is creating new pathways to endure life’s struggle.”

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