Forgive Yourself For Forgetting

Forgive. Yourself. Right. Now.

It’s okay.

You’re forgiven. I forgive you.

We give ourselves so much crap for all the things we never did because we forgot.

You forgot to read? You forgot to write? You forgot to blog?

Forgive yourself for forgetting. For everything.

Please. 

I think I’m incapable of cutting myself any slack, even though I have no problem doing so when it comes to everyone else. In that regard I’m nicer to other people than I am to myself.

I will continue to lament that I forget stuff because I’m old. And getting older with each passing day, with each blog post published.

I’m a human being. I forget. I mess up. Five year old Herminia probably made fewer messes than nineteen going on twenty year old me. 

Yes, I refer to my past self in the third person. No, I won’t stop referring to my past self in the third person.

That girl had a memory like no other. She could remember everything. She had nothing to forget.

Which is why I never learned to forgive.

Clearly, I also have no concerns about broadcasting my age to anyone who will listen. Or in this case read.

I shouldn’t beat myself up when I’m down. But I do.

I don’t forgive when I forget.

I forget but then I remember that I forgot. And I don’t forgive myself for forgetting.

By the way, I felt inspired to talk about forgiving yourself when you forget because I nearly forgot to write a blog post, and this is what I ended up writing about. 

Life, huh?