The Memories We Forget to Return To
There is a version of you that already did the hard thing. Crossed the stage. Said yes. Finished what you started when everything in you wanted to stop. That version is not gone — but somewhere between the busyness of daily life and the relentless forward pull of what comes next, we stop visiting them. We move on so efficiently that we leave behind some of the most useful evidence we have about who we are.
Most of us are better at remembering what went wrong than what went right. A stumble from three years ago can feel more present than a triumph from the same period. This is not a character flaw — it is, in large part, simply how the brain is wired. But it means we are often navigating our days with an incomplete picture of ourselves.
What We Carry Without Knowing It
Autobiographical memory — the collection of personal experiences we carry through life — is not simply a record of what happened. It is also a resource. Psychologists Jefferson Singer and Peter Salovey described a particular category they called self-defining memories: vivid, emotionally significant recollections that sit at the core of how we understand ourselves. These are not just moments we remember — they are moments that tell us who we are.
What makes them powerful is their emotional texture. A self-defining memory is not a neutral entry in a mental diary. It carries feeling — pride, relief, love, the particular exhaustion that follows something genuinely earned. And that feeling, it turns out, is not just sentimental. It is functional.
The Evidence We Overlook
Psychologist Barbara Fredrickson at the University of North Carolina has spent decades studying positive emotions and what they actually do. Her broaden-and-build theory, supported by substantial research, proposes that positive emotions do more than feel good in the moment — they expand our capacity to think, connect, and act. Over time, they build what Fredrickson calls personal resources: resilience, creativity, social connection, and a clearer sense of what we are capable of. Her research, published in American Psychologist, suggests that regularly accessing positive emotional states — even briefly — contributes to long-term wellbeing in measurable ways.
This does not mean forcing positivity or pretending difficult things are not difficult. It means that our cherished memories are not indulgences. They are data. Returning to them is less like nostalgia and more like consulting evidence.
Why We Stop Going Back
If these memories are so useful, why do we visit them so rarely? Partly because daily life does not create much space for it. We are oriented toward what is next — the task, the deadline, the problem to solve. Reflection can feel like a luxury, or worse, like falling behind.
There is also something subtler at play. For many people, revisiting a proud moment carries an undertow of vulnerability. What if things are not as good now? What if that peak was the peak? Sitting with a cherished memory sometimes means sitting with the distance between then and now — and that distance is not always comfortable.
But here is what that discomfort often misses: the person who achieved that thing is still you. The capacity that got you there did not expire. It may be quieter right now, or less visible, or waiting for the right conditions. But it is not gone.
Small Returns, Real Effect
We tend to think of confidence as something we either have or we don’t — a fixed quantity that arrives or fails to arrive on a given day. Research suggests a different picture. Confidence is, in part, a relationship with our own history. When we lose touch with our past successes, we are not just being forgetful — we are subtly revising the story we tell ourselves about what we are capable of.
The good news is that the revision can go the other way too. Returning to a cherished memory — even briefly, even just in the mind — can reactivate the emotional tone of that experience. Not to live there, but to be reminded. To let that version of yourself speak to this one.
My Fyrst draws from an understanding that emotions are not interruptions to daily life — they are signals worth paying attention to. The ancient Indian framework of nine essential emotions that sits at the heart of the programme includes Vīra — a quality of courage, steadiness, and quiet confidence. It is not the loudest emotion. But it is one of the most sustaining. A cherished memory, revisited with intention, can be one of the places where that feeling lives.
A Question Worth Sitting With
The next time you find yourself doubting what you are capable of, it might be worth asking: what is the evidence on the other side? Not to silence the doubt — doubts sometimes carry useful information too. But to make sure you are consulting the full record, not just the parts that are loudest today.
You have already done things that once felt impossible. That is worth remembering. Not just once, and not just when things are hard — but regularly, as a quiet practice of knowing yourself a little more honestly.
If you’d like to hear Fredrickson explain this research in her own words, her talk Positive Emotions Open Our Mind — hosted by the Greater Good Science Center at UC Berkeley — is a clear and accessible introduction.
My Fyrst is a personal practice, not therapy or clinical support. If you are going through a difficult time, please speak with a qualified mental health professional. v