Memories

It isn’t a flood. It doesn’t overwhelm me, or make me want to curl up and cry. The memories are just there. Like they always have been. Just waiting for something to trigger them. Or waiting for me to be ready for them.

I’m grateful it isn’t a flood. I don’t know if I could keep my head above water. But them being there, patiently waiting, is no easier. I still have to deal with them. Examine. Remember. Mourn. Move on?

It’s the letting go that’s the hard part. Not the remembering. The memories help me to remember laughing and playing. They give me distance from the silent months and awkward meetings. The memories are good. But I can’t just let them sit around, for forever. I don’t want to always remember when I play that song, or see an acorn on the road. I have to do something with them.

I don’t want to lose them. Not completely. I’m at a point where I want to keep the good ones. To help me remember the good times. And at least try to let go of the other ones. The ones that make me regret, feel ashamed, make me want to travel back. Or the ones that raise my blood pressure, because I’m readying for a fight. I don’t want those memories around. They’re not healthy.

So I need to sort through the memories, which means subjecting myself to something similar to a flood. They need to be sorted, and sent their separate ways. The good ones to a place where I can access them when I’m feeling nostalgic, or when I need to remember the good times. And the other ones need to float away from me, downstream. To mix with all my other memories that have been dealt with over the years.

I know there are not enough in that ocean; the ones I have let go of. The ones I have moved on from because it is what is right for me. But this is where I am starting. Sifting through, trying to find the ones that make me smile and removing some of the load from my heart.