The Trapper Keeper

This is where you’ve been, and this is where you could be. It’s a thought I revisit on a daily basis. In terms of my connection style, I am a Seeker, and Seekers are the keepers of memories. We maintain, uphold or transform and create traditions. We understand the rituals of humanity and embrace them with joy. And because I am a Seeker, I like to “keep” these memories in the form of photographs and videos. The advent of social media and blogging was a game changer in my life. No longer did I need to keep shoe boxes of blurry photos from class trips or handwritten notes passed to me in the middle of class. Instead, I could document life as it happened and share it with others almost instantaneously. But every time I’ve gotten a new phone, I’ve maxed out my storage within a year. Eventually, I am forced to sit down and determine what images really matter (the last Christmas before my grandmother passed away) and what can be deleted (thousands of screenshots of memes only relevant for their place and time, and never again). A month ago, I began a serious inventory of my images not because I was out of space, but because I needed a solid reminder of the past. Aging is a blessing, but for me, a person with a chronic illness, it is also more physically painful. Pushing through the pain is not as easy as before. In the thick of a flare up, it is difficult to see beyond my immediate discomfort. Revisiting my photos and videos of the past gives me beauty and happiness. It gives me laughter and comfort. It gives me insight and answers. In truth, it gives me hope.

I like to plan for good days, and looking back reminds me I’ve had many more moments to be thankful for than ones to detest. It makes the act of gratitude more profound, and makes the thank yous of life more accessible.

I like to plan for good days, and looking back reminds me I’ve had many more moments to be thankful for than ones to detest. It makes the act of gratitude more profound, and makes the thank yous of life more accessible. This is where you’ve been, but also, this is who was with you. This is who you hugged, who you kissed, who you cherished. This is who mattered. This is who cared. This is what to value. In the midst of a challenging world or a time of pain, I can recall that it wasn’t always like this, and—most likely—I can recapture the magic again. Today, I poured through images of a trip to Palm Springs and a brief moment when my friends and I stopped to take photos of a giant dinosaur statue on the side of the road. I sent a few images to two friends and created a memory in my Thoughtful app. They laughed in response, delighted by a buried moment from 6 years ago. We’ll always have the past, to cherish in the present, to make plans for the future.