All of my life I have struggled with memories, be they as long ago as the recollections of childhood games, days in school or dinner conversations or even as simple as what I fed my face for lunch yesterday. Nothing seems to come as readily as I would like it to.
It is difficult to know who you are when you cannot recall the things that guided you on your journey. I believe I have chosen to repress them all out of fear, convincing myself that they are not worth the thought, but every so often a moment in time is dredged up from the repressed depths of my subconscious by a laugh, a story, a flicker of remembrance. It is in these moments that I am able to catch a glimpse into the path that led me to the place I am today, a place of self-doubt, confusion, anger, frustration and a little bit of hope.
Life is a difficult journey for most, the most difficult part being that many are not able to see past their own experiences, both the rights and wrongs and thus lose sight of their relation to and part in the larger world around them. Empathy, the ability to not only put oneself in another's shoes but to also understand all of the feelings that wearing those shoes evokes is, seemingly, a difficult character trait to come by these days. Too many people get caught up in what shoes to wear that they lose sight of those who don't even have the choice. It is in these empathetic moments that hope arises in me.
It is extremely sad, I realize, that the thoughts of all of the wrongs done around this world: the kids who no longer have parents, lost to some angry mob or taken away at gunpoint by some unjust government; the families that cannot walk through their neighborhood without having to be constantly cautious of gunfire; the soldier who lost both legs in a pointless, endless war on a soil not their own who has been abandoned by their own government, forced to work through the mental anguish and physical pain alone or with minimal help, are the things that bring me hope.
It is not the thoughts of all the suffering, rather the realization of how my own pain stacks up. I have come to understand life is in constant flux and can always be changed, for better or worse. This realization has been long in the making and is nowhere near fully actualized, but I have come to understand that no matter where I am in or what I feel I am stuck doing can always be changed, it just takes work on my part.
It is this work that is the hardest part of life. Can we convince ourselves that the doubts we have are justified and see the change needed to alleviate these doubts and then can we actually grow enough, believe enough, be strong enough to start the wheels in motion to take that risk and chance knowing full well that it may not go as hoped, that we may have to work harder, that we may still fail.
Most memories are fleeting, some stick, some are lost before the event that spurs them is even finished. The biggest question in life, at least for me, is, can I create memories that I want to keep? Can I find a path and a direction that I believe in, that makes me happy, that makes me feel like, as idealistically as it may sound, I am actually making a difference, not only in my own life, but also in those around me?
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