The Secret to Happiness Is Having a Bad Memory

We spend an enormous amount of time in our own heads. Replaying the past, rehearsing alternate futures, and analyzing what could've been. But here's the truth: no amount of thinking will change what's already happened.

Yet we keep doing it. We revisit old memories not just out of nostalgia but often out of fear, trying to avoid repeating mistakes or relieving pain. In that sense, memory becomes a defense mechanism, a filter that tries to protect us. But protection can also be a trap.

When you live inside your memories, you disconnect from the present. It's like watching a movie with dark sunglasses on—you're there, but not really. You miss the brightness, the detail, the emotion. Memory, when overused, becomes overprotective, like putting on sunscreen and never going outside.

The paradox is that happiness isn't something you can plan for. It's always unexpected. It arrives unannounced; sometimes in a smile, sometimes in a smell, sometimes in a moment so ordinary it almost slips by. However, to catch it, your mind must be clear. Your eyes have to be open, fully embracing the present moment.

That's why having a bad memory might be one of the greatest life skills. The ability to forget, to move on, and to leave both pain and glory behind creates a liberating space for the new. It frees you from the weight of stories that no longer serve you.

When I was a kid, I watched a lot of Highlander. I still remember the Queen song that played at the beginning of every episode. Back then, I thought it would be amazing to live forever—immortal, sword in hand, fighting off villains. Now I realize that immortality is actually a curse. Imagine remembering everything: every mistake, every loss, every person you've ever loved and lost. A few decades of memories are heavy enough. Centuries would be an unbearable weight. Duncan MacLeod wasn't just immortal—he was in hell.

Some people believe that selective memory is the solution. Keep the good stuff and forget the bad. Sounds nice. But it doesn't work that way. Who you are today is the sum of all your experiences: the joy, the guilt, the missed chances, the lucky wins. You can't just cherry-pick meaning from a few things.

The real challenge is learning to let go of both the good and the bad. Accept that those moments shaped you, and now they're over, gone for good. To live this moment free from any memory.

This ability to forget may feel more relevant now than ever. We're storing everything: texts, photos, audio, videos. Every conversation, every memory, every passing thought, backed up to the cloud, forever searchable. The internet has become a never-ending afterlife. We can't move on because nothing ever disappears. Is that what we want?

Maybe we were designed to forget.

Perhaps we forgot that (the irony), and we are trying to remember everything forever, building our own infinite hell.