Was it April 2nd? Maybe it was April 3rd? Hmmm? Was it on a Monday or Wednesday? Honestly, I cannot remember.
As many of you may know, I was married in 2012, separated in 2015, and divorced in 2016. The time elapsed between date of divorce and present day (four plus years), is now greater than the life of the marriage itself, three plus years. Even so, all week my brain has attempted to make me remember an approaching date it once stored with significance.
I checked my calendar multiple times to ensure I wasn't forgetting a birthday or appointment. (I am not.) I ruminated. Scratched my head. Really thought it out. What am I forgetting?
Finally, it occurred to me that I was married early in April of 2012. Or was it 2013? You all, I do not remember. It feels like that was lifetime ago. How many versions of myself have I discovered since that time? Do I still know that Kechia? Is it wrong to forget?
No.
The answer to my last question is definitely no.
It took me a long time to understand this, but it's okay to forget. In fact, sometimes it is preferable. Every individual and experience does not deserve lifelong mental markers and acknowledgement. Grasp the lesson and allow the minutia to slip away.
It's liberating.
I gave myself permission to forget. More accurately, I give myself permission to forget. Forget birthdays, anniversaries, milestones, particulars, sensations, words, actions, events, emotions, people, places, things, and any and every detail that is incompatible with healing, progression, restoration, growth, peace, and joy.
I used to obstruct forgetting by insistent remembrance...Rehashing and rehearsing details over and over again until they were ingrained in my memories. Because there are details that unworthy of this process, rumination has the potential to be ruinous. Most importantly, I cannot allow my mental storage to reach its capacity with my history when my present and future are so deserving of room.
My Grandma often says "We all forget." Whenever she misplaced or couldn't recall something, she'd assure herself and remind us of the normalcy of forgetting. To that, this day, I say Amen, Grandma. Amen. Let it be so.
