Best Forgetter in the Family

This morning I pulled a K. Straight. I had an early flight home so I set my alarm with just enough time to throw on clothes, call a Lyft, and get to the airport. No fuss. No extra margin.

All was going as planned until I was headed out the door and realized my wallet wasn’t in my bag. Not in my bag, not in my suitcase, not in the kitchen, bathroom, hallway…really nowhere to be found. I scoured my brain trying to remember the last time I remembered holding it in my hands and everything came back static. Blank. 

My kids have awarded me with the prized title of “best forgetter in the family” and they’re not wrong. I can carry a lot in my mind and multitask like your typical female/working mom pro. I can analyze and synthesize complex information and intuit my way through an ever-changing landscape of complicated human emotions around me. I have an advanced degree from a decent school and I’ve been successful in a variety of diverse career roles. 

But what I cannot seem to do is hold onto my shit. For as long as I can remember I’ve spent more time than most trying to find my things: keys, phone, wallet, you name it. I was the kid who forever forgot one shin guard at home or my jacket at a friend’s house. I’ve forgotten my license more times than I’d like to admit, regularly misplaced my passport, scoured the house for car keys no shortage of six million times, and showed up in another country without my prescription medicine.

It. Drives. Me. Crazy. Like angry, “get your shit together, K. Straight” kinda self talk with a healthy dose of rehashing every time I’ve ever done this kind of thing in the past just to ensure I’ve made myself adequately aware of how chronically unreliable I am in matters of memory and personal accoutrement.

So, that’s exactly where my mind went this morning. Straight to the knee jerk, learned behavior of exacting self talk and reprimand. “How could you lose your wallet when you have a flight you have to be on?!?! Why the actual hell can you not manage your shit? Why do you always do this?” etc. etc. etc. 

Did it help? Of course not. Thankfully I had some of my dearest friends by my side trying to help me troubleshoot and offering the grace I needed but couldn’t seem to allow myself. And that helped immensely. The simple reflection they offered back to me of what it is to be human, nothing more and nothing less. I could suddenly step back and hear the voices screaming everything but understanding inside my head. 

They were right. Humans forget. Sure, some more than others. All our brains are built vastly differently with intelligences as diverse as languages. But we all forget. And when I do again, which I very inevitably will, I’d like to have a different voice in residence. Say, one who can maybe even laugh in the moment about what it is to be a human who can manage a lot but sometimes not that one thing. Cause humans are always gonna human. And I’m probably always gonna lose my shit.

You know, best forgetter in the family. 🏆

P.S. By divine intervention and the kindness of a host of strangers and friends, I made my flight and am now on my way to be back with my kiddos! Even so. xoxo