As time passes, I find myself longing for the past. Overwhelming feelings sometimes linger for days, looking to the struggles that brought me to the present. Moments I wished to forget, now comfort my mind when I wander. These thoughts brought me to a question that’s resonated for my entire life.
Why do I wish to return to the bad times?
A complex question I now see in simple terms.
Nostalgia is a constant.
Nostalgia doesn’t change, even though it’s associated with sentimental memories. Memories, which are variable. Those you hated experiencing, those you think fondly of, and the ones you’re creating now. Each action and step into the future will be a memory, and there’s plenty of nuance within that. We can’t remember all of the details, big or small, but we carry them with us. I’ve tried to grasp the value of the “bad” times. Life experience? Sure. To learn from mistakes and make something anew? Certainly, however, we also get these values from the “good” times. The faults don’t feel so apparent in the good moments. When everything seems to go well, we put less emphasis on what we can learn. The “bad” times stay with us as we go. Nostalgia doesn’t care if the memory was good or bad, it blurs the lines, making each moment sacred.
Why am I conscious of when my situation is bad, but ignorant to the positive experiences?
That has come from my fundamental misunderstanding of memory. The ability to continue comes from our goals and our proximity to them. I’ve found that the moments where I’ve faced the most adversity, propelled short-term goals. Through short-term goals, we see the effects sooner, thus the rewards have less time to stagnate in uncertainty. “Bad” times create needs, while “good” times create wants. With that, I pose a scenario.
You’ve gotten in a car accident you’ve caused. The insurance plan you barely could afford, can only cover your liability. Now, without a car, and the rate doubled, you must walk to work, pick up more shifts, and struggle to return to a balanced life. Every day that passes, your motivation to get what you have lost guides you. Waking up is easier, as your future feels defined. Working long hours is rewarding, each paycheck is a step in the right direction. Getting a new car doesn’t seem so far away, you’re actively working on that goal. It’s out of necessity, not comfort. This time where you’ve struggled the most, encountered daunting obstacles, had a purpose. You had a purpose.
These were bad times right?
Or were they moments your strength prevailed?
Now look at the inverse.
You work a remote job, 30 hours a week, and make more than enough money to take care of your family. Since you were a child, you always wanted to paint canvases. Now with enough time and money, it’s finally in your cards. You buy the brushes you’ve always wanted, the best paint you could afford, and sit down and paint for an hour. The TV show you’ve been meaning to watch comes out and you take a break. Over the next weeks you paint for different amounts of time, 15 minutes, 45 minutes, 30 minutes, sometimes skipping a day or two. Painting is your hobby, but throughout your life it’s been the long-term goal. There’s no need to be an artist, you’re already established. You can’t seem to make your perfect piece, and the artist you’ve wanted to be, seems so far away. The days start to blend, and the dream fades. The struggle isn’t prevalent, and returning to the status quo feels comfortable. This life is good enough, but you long for the days when being an artist was a grounded fantasy.
Would your old self look at this as a “good” time in your life?
Or did you become complacent without your immediate struggles?
Quantifying memories as “good” or “bad” is a fruitless endeavor. Changing is essential to our character, and our nostalgia plays tricks on us. It’s nice to escape to happier memories, but understand why they were. Nostalgia isn’t about whether times were good or bad at all, it’s about remembering the moments where life felt meaningful. Living in the past is not the challenge, it’s carrying the lessons to the present.