One thing that bothers me about a belief in the afterlife. If you believe in an afterlife

What I think about when I think about an eternal afterlife is this: what would or could anything still recognizably human do all of that time? One could assume that the afterlife is timeless, or that the nature of time in the afterlife is different from what we know, but as soon as one considers such things, one has to immediately realize that one doesn't really understand what it is that we're hoping for. Everything we know and understand, including the very selves we're hoping to have preserved, is defined in and through the flow of time.

If the experience of afterlife time were anything like our living, mortal experience of time, but simply goes on forever, then think about this:

Imagine your first thousand years in heaven. A thousand years worth of conversations, events, activities, sumptuous meals, concert events singing the Praises of the Lord, thousands of sex acts a piece with each of your 70 no-longer-very-virginal virgins. Would it all begin to just blur together? Would God grant you some special resistance to becoming tired of the same old things, or simply provide such a bountiful variety of experiences we can't imagine it? Is basking in The Presence of The Lord just so wonderful that nothing else matters? Pleasant though it might be, would that really be a life, or just some kind of frozen mental state?

Would your heavenly self have a greater memory capacity than your human self, so that a thousand years worth of memories could be held in your mind at once?

A thousand-year lifespan is already hard for the human mind to grasp. Now imagine that your first million years has passed by, and your first thousand years becomes no more than a tiny sliver of your life. Then a billion years passes, and the first million years takes its place in the flow of your life along with 999 other million-year spans that you pass through. Then someday you reach a trillion years old, and, had you decided to keep something like an ordinary scrapbook of ordinary size, spans of billions of years might be forgotten as unimportant or reduced to one or two photographs.

Then a quadrillion years go by. Then a quintillion, a sextillion, a septillion. No matter how staggering an expanse of time you care to imagine, still greater spans of time always stretch before you, waiting to reduce the incomprehensible magnitude of all you have ever known to a fleeting twinkle.

Could anything that is meaningfully you survive this endless stretch of time? Would your memory keep expanding ad infinitum into God-like proportions so that you could know the fullness of your own life, and if so, would the being that could remember so much be you anymore?