I’ve been told something about myself more times than I can count—that I don’t remember things.

Places I’ve eaten.
Places I’ve been.
Moments that others can recall so clearly… somehow fade for me.

For a long time, I believed it was just how I was wired—this selective memory of mine. Maybe even a flaw.

But recently, I’ve started to see it differently.

Because it’s not just memories of places…
it’s also memories of hurt.

All my life, I’ve never been able to stay upset for long. Even when I felt wronged, even when I knew something wasn’t fair—I just couldn’t hold on to that feeling. It would pass. Quietly. Naturally.

And now I find myself wondering…

What if this was never a flaw?
What if this was protection?

Maybe God, in His own way, made me forgetful—especially when it comes to things that could weigh me down. Not to make me unaware… but to keep my heart from carrying more than it was meant to.

But that doesn’t mean letting go is always easy.

There are moments where I feel the weight.
Moments where I know I’ve been wronged… and part of me wants to hold on to it a little longer. To make sense of it. To justify it.

Letting go isn’t always natural in those moments.
It’s a choice.

A quiet one.

One that doesn’t always make sense in the moment… but over time, it brings peace.

“A person’s wisdom yields patience; it is to one’s glory to overlook an offense.” — Proverbs 19:11

“Above all else, guard your heart, for everything you do flows from it.” — Proverbs 4:23

Maybe this is how my heart has been guarded all along.

I can see how that might make me seem easy to cross. Like things don’t affect me. But what I’ve come to notice is that when those moments do happen… somehow, it always works in my favor.

Not because I ignore it.
But because I don’t carry it.

Through this journey, I’ve felt a shift in me.

I feel calmer.
I feel lighter.
Even… happier.

Things that used to frustrate me don’t seem to have the same grip anymore. It’s like I’m learning what deserves my energy—and what doesn’t.

And with that comes a deeper question that keeps returning:

What is my purpose?

If our time here is limited… I don’t want to spend it holding on to things that pull me down. I want to spend it doing something meaningful.

Something that serves God.

“Teach us to number our days, that we may gain a heart of wisdom.” — Psalms 90:12

This realization has been changing me.

It makes me want to be better—not just for myself, but for others.
More patient.
More kind.
More understanding.

I feel a different kind of energy lately—one that makes me more open, more friendly, more empathetic.

And maybe that’s part of the answer.

Maybe purpose isn’t always something far away or complicated.
Maybe it’s found in the way we live each day…
in the things we choose to let go…
and in choosing peace over pride.

I may not remember everything… but maybe I was never meant to carry it all.