I see the same concept all over the internet . “One day you won’t remember this sadness”. “One day you won’t remember how hard this was”. “One day this season will feel like a distant memory”.

Am I crazy?

Like is this true for most people?

This seems so, completely opposite of my experience so far in life.

Idk about you but for me, I actually only remember the sadness. I only remember the dark. It’s the good I forget. The moments that make it all worth it.

I started keeping a photo album of Polaroids. I take a camera with me most everywhere I go. I call the album, my “reasons to stay alive” book.

I have to have tangible reminders that things aren’t always so dark.

And even in that album, are photos of people and places that represent grief that I will never forget, without ever having to lay eyes on them again. Slow dancing with a friend I thought I’d have forever, the treehouse, the ocean we watched swell and break where we started our ten day pact, selfies with friends that are now strangers. Some I’ll admit were moments where I didn’t recognize my own face, that it wasn’t me in the photo… I threw those out.

I surround myself with evidence of good memories in every room, just as a reminder that I have been happy. That I do have friends. That I really can still feel the gratitude of my heart still beating. I have tattoos that say things like “we are the ones who live, I’m with my friends, I promise to never leave myself, and have you ever been in love”. If I didn’t actively have these visual reminders, I really would forget.

I don’t keep reminders of the bad intentionally because I know they wont fade.

Those reminders live in me. When a memory flashes through my mind unannounced like a bird that flies in front of your windshield, or in every single song I shared with someone, or in places that feel unsafe or hold beloved memories turned bitter, in seasons coming and going without the same people to celebrate with, in furniture I’ve cried on, been held on, in my bed that’s too big for me, the ink on my skin, or in my dreams, I remember.

It’s not even remembering. That’s not the right word because I never, ever forget.

The challenge for me is that it’s the good I can’t grasp for long. It slips through my fingers. It’s the darkness that puts out the light. Not the light that puts out the darkness.

Is this reversible? Is it a matter of just not letting go like I’ve been told?

Or is it just reality. That some people will spend their whole lives having to remind themselves why they should get out of bed, instead of reminding themselves in their joy that things weren’t always easy.

Idk.

It’s not that one is harder. It’s not that I’m envious of seeing things differently. It’s just foreign to me.

Maybe some of us really are just prone to the dark, as others are to the light.

I’ve always been a night owl anyway.