In my recent past (probably since about June) I really started to make a conscious effort at being more …. well, conscious. Really taking to heart the term, “being present.” Before June, I found that my memories were lackluster, and hard to recall. I’m too young for this, I thought. Aren’t my recollections supposed to be colorful, and easy to trace back and relive as if it just happened yesterday?
I came to realize that the reason for these mundane memories or lack thereof, of things that were supposedly great, was because in those moments I wasn’t really there. I was abruptly made of aware of this by my last boss. (Random, right?) It was during my annual review, as I’m reading feedback from my fellow coworkers and supervisors that I had this epiphany. One of the common threads amongst my “constructive” critiques was that they were always surprised when I came through with a project because I always seemed so out of it, unable to recall decisions, and forgetful of conversations all together. This was because, although I may be having a conversation with you, fully engaging, asking questions, and maintaining eye contact, I’m not really there. My mind is off thinking about a thousand other thoughts, trying to remember the task I was trying to complete because often times I was interrupted, whilst trying to have this conversation…..that I will not recall in a day, a week, let alone 20 minutes later. I thought that I needed to see a doctor….how could someone so young suffer from memory loss? But that wasn’t it at all. It was because I wasn’t actually present to make the memory at all.
I ramble on about this because well, I learned my lesson. Hard. Every time I found myself in a place, or time, that I knew I would love to look back on later, I made myself present. So present in fact, that in the moment, I was almost infatuated with that moment. The way the air smelled, the way the person I was with smiled, the way the sun looked or the trees. I tried to take in every intricate detail, because I knew, this moment, was one worth remembering. Now, let’s be honest. In no way did I apply this to things such as office conversation where I knew that I wouldn’t mind forgetting. But on things such as vacations, or time spent with people I didn’t want to take for granted would always be around. Beautiful sunsets, and holidays, and things I wanted to draw upon from my very new but ever growing file cabinet of memories later on.
I never thought this “being present” would somehow bite me in the ass. Because now, all the smells, sounds, feelings, associated with particular moments with particular people, burden me. Those people I didn’t want to take for granted that they would always be around? Those people would be mostly men I knew may or may not be there with me in a day, week, month from that moment I was sharing with them. So now, I remember, in vivid and intricate detail every beautiful moment we spent.
The song playing when we stopped at the street corner to steal a kiss…and the one in the bar…and the one on the porch that Sunday morning. How the world stopped when you took my hand and we danced in the garage and you picked me up and walked me out. Lying on the beach watching the sun rise and how the clouds and sky looked like a picture perfect water color. Feeding ducks at the dam until dusk, and then watching the fireflies come out, and that one particular dumb thing I said but we both laughed, because we knew exactly what I meant.
It’s bittersweet. I’m so glad to have the memories, and to have them in as much detail as I do. But I never knew just how much harder it would be to set those memories aside at night so that I can drift off…and try to not think about them. I will continue to be present, and to make vivid memories, because the pros far outweigh the cons. And I’m glad I have the memories I do, the reason I made myself so present for those moments was because somehow I just knew they wouldn’t last. Hopefully laying them down in writing will help me to let them go temporarily in order to sleep at night. Goodnight world.
