Amnesia

Standard

I was feeling left out. As I scrolled through my twitter time line, I saw post after post about what went wrong in 2012 and what was going to be better in 2013.

Things went wrong in 2012?

I’m not saying that to brag. I just had, as far as I can remember*, a pretty damn good year. Granted, I say that against the backdrop of 2011. The year of the illness that defies diagnosis. The year I lost my job. The year of the break-in. The year of heartache in more ways than I care to remember, but just can’t seem to forget.

2011 was the “bad banana with a greasy black peel” of years.

When I wrote about grudges back in August, I mentioned briefly that I’m much better at, and much more likely, to hold a grudge against myself than anyone else. One of the reasons that’s true is because I tend to forget bad things.

My wife would say that I tend to forget everything, but let’s stay focused.

When uncomfortable or hurtful things happen, I become Dorie from Finding Nemo. Twenty seconds after the event I’m swimming in circles, completely clueless about who it was we were trying to find.

Ok, twenty seconds is an exaggeration and I don’t look anything like a Blue Tang, but you get the idea. Time is my magical elixir. Mere days after a fight or misunderstanding, I’ll have no idea why there was any problem at all. And because the odds are much better that I’ll find something to talk to you about long before I remember our ethereal disagreement, my grudges are nearly non-existent.

Well, unless it’s a grudge against myself.

As I said back in August, I can remember things I did over 20 years ago, and still flush with the same embarrassment, chagrin or anger that encompassed me then. Time, an elixir for everyone else’s transgressions, rarely heals my own self-inflicted wounds.

That changed in 2012.

Not completely, of course. There are ugly or unfortunate parts of 2012 that will likely stick with me long after they should. But I have also forgotten things that would have continued to haunt me in previous years because I have finally offered myself the gift of forgiveness.

I have begun forgiving myself for being imperfect and human. I have begun accepting my best instead of demanding the impossible.

I have caught amnesia.

* So perhaps 2012 wasn’t any better than 2011. Perhaps it’s just the amnesia talking when I say that it was far superior in at least a dozen ways. Perhaps looking forward to “more of the same” is a foolish way to start this new year.

But you won’t do a very good job convincing me of that. I feel stronger and more sure of who I am than I have in the last 10 years. I have a positivity about the future that has escaped me for far too long. I can now look forward to the memories that I make instead of dreading them.

May all of our New Years be filled with memories to cherish and may amnesia protect us from the tribulations that should be forgotten. Happy 2013!

Now where did I put my cell phone…

Advertisements

One response »

  1. I can completely relate to this.
    Which means, regardless of my husband’s opinions and my mopey phases, we are both optimists, and forgivers, to the core.

    I would much rather retain friends than hold a grudge too. But… I’m such a follower that i someone else holds a grudge against me, i wont be able to let myself off the hook until they do.
    I’m reminded of a specific instance in high school, when I, as a naive fifteen year old, thought I was doing the right thing by telling my mom when a friend called me to ask for help before she tried to kill herself. To this day, this person pretty much hates everything I do, and blames me for the medication she will take the rest of her life.
    I type this all “out loud”, because I’ve never before talked about it, and I still feel guilt.
    Less than before, but it still stings to have lost a friend over this.

    If you find the magic elixir for self- forgiveness, buy me a bottle, would you?
    🙂

Share your thoughts

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s