Nostalgia

It’s almost fall - finally. Granted my apartment is already decorated with skulls, pumpkins, and other fall-related items. Plus, the pumpkin cream cold brew is back, so, of course, it’s fall for me regardless of temperature. My mind keeps wandering to the past, and maybe it’s the season, or perhaps it’s the emotionally tumultuous few weeks I’ve had. Regardless of the reason, nostalgia has been seeping into every pore of my skin. It’s the sharp bite of the past that’s gnawing at my ribs.

My senses are overwhelmed with memories of the past. It doesn’t matter where I am or what I’m doing. My nose will inhale smells of people from long ago. My mind snaps to a moment in time that I’ve distanced myself from. I relive those memories that are so far gone, yet I can’t snap myself back to reality. I’m so filled with bitterness that I feel nostalgia so physically and frequently. It’s not because the past was all bad, rather it leaves me longing for more. Only during these brief flashes do I ache for what I once had.

What did I have? Realistically, I am happier and healthier now more than ever. I’m a stable, well-equipped adult who can better handle her emotional nuances. Yet, here I am begging to live in a different time - a time I can never have again. Frankly, that makes no sense to me. I’m mostly remembering bad memories, so why would I want to go back?

It’s obvious, right? Regret. I long to go back and change the past, and I’m desperate to do so. If you’ve read my posts from the previous blog I wrote for, then this should bring you great amusement - or irritation. I wrote a post titled “Stupid Regrets’, in which I boldly claim “Personally, I feel as though I have no regrets in life.” That is insane of me to say. Oh, I don’t have regrets? Since when? I think I was trying to be overly idealistic, but that’s not who I am in essence. I’ve come to realize that I do have regrets, and I have so many of them that I’m having sensory overload.

Nostalgia, however, isn’t all bad. There are good moments and so many of them. A whiff of the fall air brings me back to memories of growing up in the midwest and playing outside with all of the neighborhood kids. When I put on a dress I bought years ago, I happily replay the event I originally wore it to. The minute the weather dips below 60-70 degrees, I can feel the excitement fill every fiber of my being. I yearn for the good moments too, but it’s not as painful and sharp as the regrettable memories. I’m not sure why I’m writing about this topic. I’ve been agonizing over this particular draft for a few weeks. It’s not well-said. It’s not an analysis. It’s nothing more than how I’ve been feeling.

Note: why do I shy away from directly dealing with my emotions? Potentially more on this thought in a future post, but I’m not in the mood to open Pandora’s box at the moment.

There is no conclusion to this story. I am experiencing a lot of emotions and I simply wanted to write a variety of metaphors that could potentially relay how I feel. With that said, is there a reality in which I don’t find nostalgia and regret tied hand in hand? I’m unsure.

Sincerely,

Shresta