What If I Didn’t Remember?

Contemplating the memories I don’t have—and how my life might change if they existed—was recently sparked by discovering family memorabilia. (See here.)

Contemplating the memories I do have—and how my life would change if they didn’t exist—started years ago after I read a book review.

I forgot the title and author, but I never forgot the circumstances. A man lost his memory and had to continue his life with a blank slate.

What would it be like for me to lose memories—and not just any memories—but the ones I believe hinder me? Once, it seemed like something I might want to try.

What if I didn’t remember the unkindness?

What if I didn’t remember the betrayals?

What if I didn’t remember the unmet expectations?

What if I didn’t remember the failures?

And much more.

As the years have passed, I have come to a different conclusion than I had originally. I might be more successful or braver or happier without the negative memories, but I would be less.

Less kind.

Less loyal.

Less realistic.

Less encouraging.

Less helpful.

Less me.