Did you watch Ted Lasso? If not, you should. It’s happy, and watching it made me happy.

One of the pieces of wisdom shared in the show is “Be a goldfish.” Ted Lasso encourages his players to adopt the mindset of a goldfish, which is said to have a 10 second memory.

Why would a person wish to have a 10 second memory?

I don’t know about you, but I’ve done some dumb stuff I wish I didn’t remember. My memory of these dumb things has stopped me adventuring in certain directions days, weeks, months, years, and decades (multiple decades) later.

Have you ever been up late at night and remembered something stupid you said more than 20 years ago? (Maybe something you said at school when you were in the 7th grade? Oh dang, that was actually thirty years ago.)

Or maybe you’ve been sitting at work focusing on a project when you thought about how you failed miserably at a similar project 5 years ago? Now you are doubting every decision you make.

Perhaps you remember incidence from your childhood that you wish you could forget. Maybe someone didn’t treat you well. And their words have stuck with you into adulthood.

Maybe you had a traumatic experience that continues to impact you. You’d love it if your memory of that experience would dull but it remains detailed and clear.

It would be great if you could focus on the present and stop dwelling on the past. It’d be wonderful if you could appreciate where you are now without comparing it to where you used to be.

I ran at least one half marathon a year from 15 years straight, but about five years ago I started having nerve pain in my back that prevented not only running but walking more than a block without pain. I still have a good life… but it’d be better if I could forget how much much I enjoyed running.

Today I was looking at some research on programs for dementia care partners. My team and I focus on supporting and educating care partners, and I was curious what other universities have such an emphasis and how they were doing research to determine effectiveness. I was surprised to see a study on a care partner education program that looked at its level of effectiveness by measuring the memory of the person with dementia.

One of their goals was to improve (or at least slow the decline) of memory by educating the care partner.

Hm.

I have a lot of goals for the programs we have, but there is one BIG one. We want to improve care partner quality of life. And, through improving care partner quality of life, we want to improve quality of life for the person living with dementia.

I don’t see memory as necessary for a good quality of life for someone with dementia.

First, we are setting ourselves up for failure if our goal is to improve memory for those with progressive conditions that impact memory. Let’s not do that.

Also, there are times when being a goldfish is okay, or perhaps better.

Years ago I spoke to a man in early stage dementia. He talked about how he had a pretty good life currently. He knew he needed more and more assistance. He knew he was forgetting, but that in itself didn’t bother him.

“I would be happy with the person I am now if I could forget the person I used to be,” he told me.

I remember thinking that he would probably forget the person he used to be, eventually. I didn’t know if pointing that out was the best way to comfort him so I didn’t say anything.

Many times people will tell me that they visited their loved one with dementia and they were having a good day.

But what is a good day?

Usually, they tell me they knew that their loved one was having a good day because their loved one remembered them. Or they knew the month. Or they remembered the town they used to live in.

Do any of these things really indicate a good day?

Sure, maybe they were cognitively a bit sharper than usual, but so what?

Were they happy? Were they smiling? Were they laughing?

Were they enjoying their favorite things? Were they comfortable and pain-free?

None of those factors depend on memory.

Quality of life doesn’t depend on memory.

Once I overheard a woman with dementia tell her daughter upon seeing her, “I don’t remember who you are but I am so happy.”

Maybe sometimes remembering is overrated.