When I forget who I am, I remind myself by finding my stride. I remember that I am strong, free, and loved, and that with God's help I can weather whatever comes.
Sentiment: POSITIVE
When you forget everything, there only remains yourself - and that is not enough.
Remembering people is the most fundamental gesture of love and respect. For me, there are people in my life who are no longer with me, who have died, who are with me as much as any living person because I remember everything about them. My great-uncle, who I got a lot of guidance in life from, meant so much to me.
It takes an extraordinary toll on me to re-live my experiences, the horrors of my past and the pain I had to endure. And yet, I believe remembering is the only way to promote healing, to promote awareness and accountability.
I think it's really easy to just get caught up in what everyone else is doing, so I think the most important thing to remember is to be really strong in your own shoes. That is the main thing for me. The one thing that kind of gets in my way sometimes is when I'm a little too aware of everybody else.
I've learned that the perfect picture that I hold in my mind of what my life looks like is constantly changing, growing, evolving. I remind myself that I am exactly where I need to be in my life; otherwise, I would surely be somewhere else.
I come from a family who prided themselves, both sides, on memory. And I was told growing up, constantly, that I was born with a really good memory.
Your memory is a monster; you forget - it doesn't. It simply files things away. It keeps things for you, or hides things from you - and summons them to your recall with a will of its own. You think you have a memory; but it has you!
I make such big efforts to forget things and I can't tell the story of my life because, thank God, I'm still living it.
I would like to be forgotten. What's so good about being remembered?
I've forgotten what it's like to remember. I've lost the mindless confidence that a moment, an idea, a thought will be there for me later, the bravado of breezing through experience in the certainty that it will become part of my self, part of my story.