I Forgot What I Knew — And Found It Again

Abstract image of a pale full moon rising or setting over soft teal ocean waves, evoking a sense of calm, rhythm, and emotional ebb and flow.

Because clarity isn’t always sharp.

TL;DR:
I used to think forgetting meant failing.
But sometimes, forgetting is just life asking us to remember differently.
This is what that looked like for me.

There was a time I could hold it all in my head — meetings, messages, tasks, dates.
I’d joke about “mum brain” or “midlife fog,” but deep down?
It scared me.

Not remembering things didn’t feel like a glitch.
It felt like a crack.

Like I was slipping.

What It Looked Like in Real Life

There’s a particular memory I can’t shake.
I was meeting a former colleague — someone I hadn’t seen in years.
As we chatted, I asked — not once, but three separate times — whether she still played sport with her mum.

She gently corrected me each time. And only later, on the drive home, did I realise:
I had confused her with someone else.
Her mother had died just six months earlier.

I blamed perimenopause. Stress. Sleep. And maybe all of that was true.
But the real shift was this:
I no longer trusted my own mind to hold me.

And when you’ve built your value around being sharp, quick, capable —
that kind of forgetting cuts deep.

What Helped Me Shift

I stopped fighting the fog.

Because it wasn’t just about hormones or overwork or aging.
It was about bandwidth.

My mind wasn’t broken.
It was overloaded.

And instead of doubling down, I slowed down.

I wrote more things down.
I made visual lists.
I spoke reminders out loud — yes, even in the car, like a weird podcast to myself.

And I reframed what memory actually means to me.

Not just recall.
But connection.
Not just facts.
But feelings. Anchors. Associations.

I remembered songs. Colours. Smells. Stories.
The kind of memory that isn’t sharp — but deep.

And Today?

I still forget things.
I still lose track.
But I don’t lose me.

Because remembering, for me now, isn’t about performance.
It’s about presence.

When I feel foggy, I pause.
When I feel scattered, I anchor.
And when I forget what I knew — I return to the things that help me remember who I am.

Your Gentle Next Step

If you’ve been forgetting more lately — and blaming yourself —
you’re not broken.
You might just be full.

Try the Memory & Mood Tracker— a free visual tool to help you notice what’s shifting and track what supports your clarity.

🧭 Download it here

What This Series Is For

This post is part of Here’s How I Do It — a personal blog series sharing the real-life rhythm behind the Beaming Bernie pillars.
Not just the structured ideas. The lived ones.

What’s Coming Next

Next time, I’m sharing a story that has nothing to do with data — and everything to do with moving forward (literally).

🚶‍♀️ My 10,000 Step Journey (With No Science Behind It)
A post about consistency, fresh air, and finding steadiness in motion — even when nothing else felt predictable.

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