OUR MEMORY is a fickle thing. It always remembers the end, sometimes the beginning, but never really the in-between.
Going into college, I made it my mission to take every opportunity thrown my way, adamant to start strong and set a precedent for the rest of my time in the University. I think that was why I couldn’t seem to accept that glaring C+ that already greeted me in my first semester.
It was tough luck, I would say, but only after I’ve already beaten myself down a thousand times. Always disappointed with how I could’ve done better, I find it easier to blame myself for not trying hard enough, believing that I had simply not done my “best.” Yet, maybe, all of these are simply excuses that I tell myself because I didn’t want to swallow what I thought was the truth—that my best was not what I thought it was.
It’s easy to think that the concept of “best” is something that is stuck in time—unchanging regardless of contexts and new experiences. Thus, throughout my life, I find that I taunt myself whenever I make a mistake or fall short of my own expectations. I can’t help but wonder: “Why couldn’t have I done better?”
Unknowingly, deep inside, I knew the answer, I had just forgotten. It came in fading colors of memories that I have unconsciously suppressed, thinking that these were things I should never put in words—fearing they would come off as excuses, as I should have still done well all the same.
Yet, by doing that, I forget to acknowledge the challenges of daily existence. I forgot that, amid everything I was doing in school, I was also adjusting—to college, different blocks, and my daily commute.
While everyone shares some struggles, there are also some battles that only we can give ourselves credit for. For me, it came in the form of loss—the stress of taking on the responsibility of the “eldest” and the grief of watching a loved one grow slower, thinner, and weaker every day until they grew too tired to fight much longer.
Memory is a tricky thing. Because life moves so fast, it becomes harder to slow down and ingrain moments into my memory. Over time, however, I came to realize how unforgiving I have become for not performing as I hoped— forgetting the situations that were integral for me to forgive myself.
As difficult as it may sound, I have to give myself that leniency because there is peace in knowing I did the best that I could with the cards I was dealt. In such cases, maybe survival is enough. Perhaps true growth is dictated by how many times I’ve pushed myself to overcome an insurmountable obstacle that I never thought I’d survive.
With another academic year coming to an end, it’s easy to box how the year went for me in the flashing digits of my academic performance. Thus, I have to constantly remind myself that maybe, sometimes, I forget.
The challenge now lies in grounding myself in the moment so that when another chapter closes, I’d have footnotes to remember where I’ve been, what I’ve faced, and how it all made me feel.
Nicole is a third-year BS Psychology student with a minor in Data Science and Analytics at the Ateneo de Manila University. With her commitment to research and journalism, she leverages the power of storytelling in improving discourse on mental health, championing underrepresented communities, and driving genuine change.
Editor’s Note: The views and opinions expressed by the opinion writer do not necessarily state or reflect those of the publication.
