The older I get, the more I forget.
And I’m starting to think that’s a feature, not a bug.
Recently, I started working on a personal archive project, digging through old journals, photographs, emails, videos, and boxes that haven’t been opened in years. My goal is to capture as much of my past as I can before the details slip away.
At first, I thought I was simply trying to remember. Now I’m not so sure.
Now, I’m realizing that I’m preserving two very different kinds of stories:
Some I want to remember. The friends who became family. The concerts that changed my life. Long conversations over coffee. Museums. Road trips. The ordinary moments that somehow became the landmarks of my life. Those memories remind me that I’ve lived a pretty wonderful life, even during the seasons when I convinced myself otherwise.
Some I want to forget. The heartbreaks. The disappointments. The regrets. The years when anxiety, depression, and grief made my world very small. The conversations I’ve replayed a thousand times, always imagining what I should have said instead.
I’ve carried some of these stories around for decades. They’re heavy. And I’m tired. So maybe it’s time to unpack a few of them and leave them on the page instead of carrying them around on my back all the time.
The strange thing is, I don’t think memory works the way I once believed it did.
It’s less like a photograph and more like a collage. The pieces may stay the same, but the way I arrange them keeps changing.
Every time I revisit the past, I edit it a little. I polish certain moments, soften others, connect dots I couldn’t see at the time, and sometimes assign meaning that only exists in hindsight.
Over the years, I’ve also built a collection of stories about myself.
Who I am, what I’m capable of, what I deserve, etc.
Some of those stories have carried me forward. Others have quietly kept me stuck.
One of the unexpected gifts of getting older is that I no longer feel obligated to believe every story I’ve been telling myself.
Some deserve to be framed. Others deserve to be filed away. And a few deserve to be kicked to the curb. Would you let a stranger talk to you that way?
Yes, I’m preserving pieces of my past. But I’m also deciding which parts of my past still deserve a place in my present and my future.
I can’t change what happened. I can’t rewrite history.
But I can choose what parts of it I carry forward.
Keep calm and tell me something good!
Clint 🌈✌️
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ends 06-30-26
FROM THE ARCHIVES
BORN THIS WAY ON THIS DAY
06-26 = Sean Hayes (1970- ) = American actor and comedian 🌈
06-26 = Virginia “Ginny” Apuzzo (1941- ) = American activist 🌈
MAN CRUSH OF THE DAY
“I am who I am. I was never ‘in,’ as they say. Never.”
Sean Hayes
There are decisions I’ve made in the past that I’m not proud of and wish I could forget. The memory of them sometimes comes back as an intrusive thought, right after (or in the middle of) something I enjoy.
I have learned to acknowledge, accept, and appreciate these memories because they serve as reminders that I shouldn’t repeat those choices, receipts that I have changed, and context for the journey I am on now.
Thanks for sharing your thoughts with us and taking time to make this post today.
I’m cheering you on!!!
https://youtu.be/wC9TvCcH0WE?is=473dFV_35lbTSV1P
And another