Nature's Cognitive Steroid
For the Low-Energy, Brain-Fogged, and the gals who think they have dementia. (not a joke)

I need to tell you about my grandfather.

Not because it’s a happy story. It’s not. At least… not at first.

See, my Pop-Pop started forgetting things when I was fourteen. Small things. He’d walk into the kitchen and just… stand there. Eyes blank. Like someone unplugged him mid-thought.

“What did I come in here for?”

We’d laugh. He’d laugh. No big deal, right?

Then it got worse.

He’d stop mid-sentence… reaching for a word he’d used ten thousand times before. You could see it in his eyes. The word was RIGHT THERE. On the tip of his tongue. But his brain just… wouldn’t hand it over.

Then he forgot my name.

Then he forgot his own.

I was twenty-two when we buried him. And for the next three years, I carried something I never told anyone about.

Shame.

Not for him. For ME.

Because I was doing the same things.

I’d walk into rooms and forget why I was there. I’d stare at my laptop, work I’d done a thousand times, and my brain just… wouldn’t engage. It was like thinking through sand.

And the words. Gosh, the words. I’d be mid-conversation, and the simplest word would vanish. Just… gone. “Can you hand me the… the… You know, the thing you cut with?”

Scissors. The word was scissors.

The guilt ate me alive. Was I disrespecting his memory by comparing my foggy brain to his disease? The grief would hit in waves. Then apathy. I stopped caring about work. Stopped trying.

Then came the fear.

The real fear. The one that wakes you up at 3am with your heart jackhammering against your ribs.

What if this is Early-onset dementia?

I was 35 years old. And I was convinced I was losing my mind the same way he did.

So I went to the doctor. Ran every test. Got every scan.

And she looked me dead in the eyes and said 8 words that changed everything:

“Don’t worry. You most definitely don’t have dementia.”

Then she said something that hit even harder:

“Chances are, there’s nothing seriously wrong with you.”

And I should have felt relieved.

Part of me did.

Then why can’t I THINK?

Because the fog didn’t leave with the diagnosis. I still couldn’t find words. I still walked into rooms like a ghost. I still sat at my desk staring at work my brain refused to do.

The doctor said I was fine. But I didn’t FEEL fine. Not even close.

And that gap between “nothing is wrong with you” and “something is clearly wrong with me” is what sent me down a rabbit hole I never expected. Exposed me to research I never knew existed. And eventually led me to a discovery that changed not just my brain…

…but my entire life.