For me, memories are a tool. They remind me of who I used to be, of the lessons I have learned, and the unforgettable people I have encountered on my life’s journey. For instance, I remember how it felt to go to the local fair and eat snacks and ride all the rides. These trips were planned around attractions and understanding more about the history of the destination. Now, as I plan trips in my adult years, I find myself looking for an attraction and something substantive between shopping and eating. I enjoy being able to recall experiences that made me excited and nervous, feeling the tingle beneath my skin as I relive the moment. But that is the extent of how I use the tool. Over the course of my healing journey, I have been tempted to reflect on those memories in hopes of a place to escape. Yet I find myself on the other side of temptation with a number of healthy realizations.
Life experiences shape us- who we hang out with, our hobbies, our professional choices, etc.- all provide an opportunity to define (and refine) who we are. For instance, I recognize that I have walls up because I have abandonment reservations when it comes to platonic and romantic relationships. However, just recently I chose to exercise curiosity and pace instead of shutting out a person who could genuinely need a friend. Before, there was no access, no chances, and now I am practically applying tools instead of purposely isolating myself from the idea of friendship. The woman whose choices led to walls is not the same woman who harnessed those memories to evolve.
That shift in perspective is the kind of wisdom I learned from extended periods of isolation. First, those memories are times you miss and yearn for, the “good ole days.” Then, as I chose to become more self-aware and tried to change my default responses, patterns, and habits, it occurred to me. Each small decision made room for the next until I was living as the woman I had learned to affirm and envision—a woman who could be presented with the same choices but likely not make the same decisions.
Among those realizations is that I am not the same woman I see in those memories. This body is the same, but now my nervous system is calmer, my mind is clearer, and I have lived just a bit more life. I encourage you to reflect on your own journey. What memories will you choose to create for yourself today? How can you embrace this moment and fill your story with new experiences and joy?
This woman, though, she deserves her own memories. And as I begin the 39th year of my journey, what rises to the top is how much I believe my future will be even better than moments in my past. The peace, the joy, the breathtaking experiences, and the right people to share it all with—I deserve that. Wallowing in visions of the past robs you of the beauty of the present. And I don’t want to forfeit enjoying this beautiful life I have now to a past I’ve already lived or stressing over a future I trusted God with. I am too busy figuring out ways to get more fulfillment out of this life I was gifted with.
For my birthday, I would be honored if you could share with me a meaningful memory that made a difference in your life, or a lesson you’ve learned that continues to inspire you. And for my fellow Leos, this is our collective New Year celebration, so tell me about a new experience or intention you plan to set for yourself this year.
Here’s to making memories, we’ll one day look back on with gratitude—not because we want to return to them, but because they reminded us, we kept growing.
