“遗忘”并非是失去，而是一种前行

很多人都害怕“忘记”。我们从小被教育要铭记过去、吸取教训、记录成长。然而随着年龄的增长，我越来越相信，有些遗忘其实是一种需要。

我大学毕业后的第一份工作，是在中美合资企业施格兰酿酒公司担任行政秘书。虽然听上去只是个秘书的职位，但在九十年代初，能在外资企业担任总经理秘书，其实是很不容易的事情。这个工作对个人的素养、能力以及教育背景都有着极高的要求。

由于当时的总经理常年驻扎在香港，我几乎成了他在上海办公室的“代理人”。我的工作范围也远远超出了传统意义上的秘书职责，几乎涉及了公司运营的方方面面。

那时我年纪尚轻，面对这样的工作强度常常感到压力山大，尤其是在处理人际关系方面更是摸不着头脑。我常常分不清在什么场合该跟哪位领导说什么话，哪些该说、哪些不该说，总是小心翼翼却又难免出错。有一次，一位善意的领导私下对我说：“你这人挺聪明，就是在人情世故上，还是个小糊涂虫。”

那时的我经常在脑中回荡一个声音：“这就是成年后的生活了。” 从前无论是高中还是大学，虽然也有学业压力，但那种压力与职场带来的是完全不同。于是我开始感到恐惧，也格外怀念校园生活。那时我一度以为，大学那段日子将会是我此生永远惦念的最美好时光。

然而几年之后的某一天，我忽然意识到：自己已经很久没有再想起大学时光了。说不清是从什么时候开始的，也不是因为工作变得轻松无压，而是一种悄无声息的心理转变自然发生了。全职工作的节奏不再让我感到有压力，每周五天工作、两天休息，成了生活理所当然的一部分。我不再刻意去怀念校园生活，那段时光似乎已经静悄悄地从我的心里淡出。

现在回头看来，也许正是这种情感上的“断联”，能终于让我平静地面对当下的生活，也就是说，遗忘成了我督促自己成长的适应机制。

随着我年龄渐渐变大，我也在不断地经历着与“过去的自己”渐行渐远的过程。进入四十岁，有了家庭与责任，我开始渐渐忘记曾经那种说走就走、自由闯荡世界的洒脱；步入五十岁，又慢慢记不起当年可以连续工作一整天却不觉疲惫的精力与冲劲。但是尽管我已无法真实地回忆起那些过往的感受，但也不再渴望重返那样的状态。

我们总说“时间能治愈一切”，其实这其中的本质就是“遗忘”。遗忘是康复的条件，是转变的开始，也是宽恕的前提。

美国著名思想家 Lewis Hyde 在《遗忘入门》（A Primer for Forgetting）书中探讨了遗忘和记忆之间的共生关系。他说，遗忘并不是记忆的对立面，反而是它的辅助者。他在研究口述文化时发现，那些靠口口相传来保存知识的古老社会，会“主动丢弃那些与当下无关的记忆”，以保持最佳的精髓，他把遗忘看作是一种赋予“想象自由”的人类基本能力。

这本书是在我家先生的督促之下，我稍微快速地浏览的。在书中，Hyde还大量引用了许多伟大的思想家，如尼采（Nietzsche）、海德格尔（Heidegger）、本雅明（Benjamin）、弗洛伊德（Freud）等的观点。比如尼采将遗忘视为一种“积极的压抑能力”，一种对心灵保护的过滤器。普鲁斯特说“只有曾被遗忘过的记忆，才有可能带来救赎的力量”。美国著名作曲家约翰·凯奇（John Cage）说，“我们必须遗忘，才能让头脑对未知的可能性敞开”。

另外在书中，Hyde还提出了“遗忘但不抹除”的概念，他称之为“主动遗忘”，就是一种有意识地放手，而不是否定过去。

“主动遗忘”其实经常出现在夫妻之间的关系里。两个人在长期关系中，难免会有误解、争执，甚至伤害。即使事情得到了表面上的解决，但真正的“走出来”，往往需要一种内在的放下。那种选择不再一次次翻出旧账、不再固执于“你当时为什么那样对我”的执念，本质上就是一种“主动的遗忘”。

“主动遗忘“并不是否认发生过的事情，而是有意识地对过去的情绪体验松手，允许自己和对方继续向前走。这种遗忘，不是逃避，而是一种情感上的宽恕与成熟，是为了守住两人当下关系的一种温柔选择。

因此，成长不只是不断记得什么，更是懂得什么时候该忘。那些被我们主动放下的片段，不代表它们不重要，而是我们已经走过、消化、并赋予了它们意义。记忆会渐渐褪色，而真正值得被记住的东西，会以另一种方式留下来。而那些被遗忘的，也终将为新的体验腾出空间。

Sometimes, “Forgetting” is about moving forward

Many people are afraid of “forgetting.” From a young age, we’re taught to remember the past, to learn from our experiences, and to document our growth. But as I’ve grown older, I’ve come to believe that some forms of forgetting are not only inevitable, they are necessary.

My first job after graduating from university was as an executive secretary at Seagram China. While the title might sound modest, being a general manager’s secretary at a foreign company in the early 1990s in China was no small job. The role demanded high standards in competence and educational background.

Since the General Manager was based in Hong Kong most of the time, I became, in many ways, his stand-in at the Shanghai office. My responsibilities far exceeded the typical duties of a secretary and touched nearly every aspect of the company’s operations.

At the time, I just graduated from the university and often felt overwhelmed by the high pressure of the work. Navigating office politics was particularly challenging; I never seemed to know what I should or shouldn’t say to different people in different situations. One Board member once pulled me aside and said, “You’re a smart person, but you’re still a bit clumsy when it comes to dealing with people.”

Back then, a voice often echoed in my head: “So this is standard adult life.” Sure, there had been pressure in high school and university, but it felt completely different from the pressure of working life. I began to feel anxious and nostalgic for the simplicity of campus life. At one point, I truly believed that my university years would forever remain the most cherished period of my life.

But then, one day a few years later, I realized something unexpected—I hadn’t thought about university in a long time. I couldn’t pinpoint when this shift occurred, and it wasn’t because work had suddenly become stress-free. Rather, it was a subtle psychological transformation that happened naturally over time. The rhythm of full-time work - five days on, two days off - no longer felt burdensome. It simply became a part of life. I no longer clung to memories of campus life; they had quietly receded from my heart.

Looking back now, I realize that this emotional disconnection was exactly what allowed me to settle into the present with peace. In other words, forgetting had become a necessary adaptation, a tool for personal growth.

As I’ve grown older, I’ve continued to experience this gradual distancing from my former selves. In my forties, as family and responsibility took center stage, I began to forget the carefree spontaneity of youth. In my fifties, I could no longer recall the stamina that once allowed me to work 24 hours straight without exhaustion. And yet, even though I can no longer vividly remember how those moments felt, I no longer long to return to them either. As the “old me” slowly fades, I find myself more at peace with the life I live now.

We often say that “time heals all wounds,” but in truth, the mechanism behind that healing is forgetting. Forgetting is what makes recovery possible; it marks the beginning of transformation, and often, it’s the precondition for forgiveness.

In A Primer for Forgetting, the American scholar Lewis Hyde explores the symbiotic relationship between memory and forgetting. He argues that forgetting is not the opposite of memory but rather its partner. When studying oral cultures— those that pass down knowledge through storytelling — he found that people would intentionally discard memories that no longer held relevance in the present. Forgetting, in this view, becomes a fundamental human function that grants “imaginative freedom.”

At my husband’s urging, I skimmed through Hyde’s book, and was struck by the many philosophers and thinkers he quoted, Nietzsche, Heidegger, Benjamin, Freud, among others. Nietzsche once called forgetting a “positive faculty of repression,” a protective filter for the psyche. Proust believed that “only forgotten memories can become redemptive.” The American composer John Cage said, “We must forget in order to open our minds to possibilities beyond what we remember.”

Hyde also introduced the idea of “forgetting without erasing”, what he calls active forgetting: a conscious release, rather than a denial of the past.

In fact, “active forgetting” often plays a key role in close relationships, especially in marriages. Over time, misunderstandings, disagreements, even emotional wounds, are almost inevitable. While surface-level resolution may come quickly, true healing often requires an inner letting go. Choosing not to insist on old arguments, not to obsess over “why you did that to me,” is a form of active forgetting.

This kind of forgetting doesn’t mean pretending the pain never happened. Rather, it’s a deliberate emotional decision to loosen our attachment to the past, so that both people can move forward. It’s not avoidance, it’s maturity. It’s a quiet form of forgiveness, made for the sake of preserving something more critical - the connection between two people who genuinely love each other.

And so, growing up isn’t just about remembering more, it’s also about learning when to let go. The pieces of ourselves that we consciously choose to set down aren’t meaningless; they’ve simply served their purpose. Memory will inevitably fade, but what truly matters will remain with us in other forms. And what’s forgotten will, in turn, make room for something new.