The Mistake You Replay

Washing up, half asleep, waiting at a red light, and suddenly it’s back: the thing you said at a dinner five years ago. Your face goes hot. Nobody around you knows why.

The replay pretends to be useful

Your mind replays embarrassing moments because it thinks it’s protecting you. If you go over it enough, the logic goes, you’ll never do it again. But you learned what there was to learn the first time. Everything after that is just the sting, on repeat.

You’re the only one still watching

Here’s the part the replay leaves out. The other people in that moment have almost certainly forgotten it. They were busy with their own awkward moments, their own worries about what everyone else was thinking. You’re holding a memory no one else is holding.

It works the same way as rehearsing an argument that hasn’t happened, only pointed backwards. In both cases you’re performing for an audience that isn’t there.

When it plays again

Next time the memory arrives, don’t push it away and don’t relive it. Say plainly what happened in one sentence, as if describing it to a stranger. Then add the only lesson that matters, also in one sentence. After that, put your attention on something in front of you, like the water, the road or the next thing on your list.

That’s enough for today.