Home > Fire Bug Blog Entrys > We Forget So Easy

We Forget So Easy

I’ve been on a mission these past couple days to clear out my mental clutter. Forgive myself my unfinished projects and long forgotten hobbies and be critical of which to rescue and which to let die. Having no idea where this sudden urge has come from I will say only that it is overwhelming and not bother to manufacture a catalyst where there is none.

Taking inventory of the many different thing I have let pile up over the years I found one major mound, email. I never seem to delete any email, not ever, honest. Not only do I still have a inbox wholly intact from junior high school, I also have multiple copies since for years my hotmail was set up to forward from my gmail which forward to my outlook (or now it’s Mac equivalent).

It seemed easy; login, select all, click delete, success!! Metal space cleared, sense of calm achieved! But no, first of all you could only select one page at a time and 6 years of built up email equates to many many pages, 137 to be exact. Diving into my own digital archives quickly became somewhat of an archeological dig.

Work updates from my years of teaching, reminders i had sent of about meetings for a multitude of different volunteer organization, notes of congratulations for accomplishments both tiny and pivotal. Letters of love and admiration from past relationship, unanswered advances, and the break ups, my god the break ups. As I worked though the mass of once important conversations, and shameless viagra ads I realized I had unintentionally amassed a choppy but relatively accurate personal written history.

Then the inevitable happened, I ran into a few conversations with people in my life who have since passed on. A wonderful caring woman who I knew through her fundraising work who died very suddenly and two others who had killed themselves in the same year. My heart sank when I saw the first of the names and admittedly it was the curiosity that made me search out the others.

I could hear their voices in my mind as I reread the messages about nothing in particular. A story about a run in with an ex, the strange dream they had the night before, a request to show up an hour early to help out, little things.

Having had enough of that, maybe to much, I sifted through a few other more recent messages, recalling how each had once effected me and feeling nostalgic or embarrassed accordingly.

Then I deleted it all. Every last one.

The walk don’t memory lane was nice, but the present is so much more wonderful. It was a calm kind of sadness to lose a document of your own history, the only of it’s kind, in the pursuit of a better, more focused present.

We don’t know what we have till we delete it.

Categories: Fire Bug Blog Entrys
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