Bittersweet Conundrum

Editorial Assistant Elizabete Lasmane muses over her complicated relationship with nostalgia and its romanticisation, presenting itself as a double-edged sword of an unshakeable dilemma.

Nothing ever hurts us as much as our thoughts. And nothing ever heals us as much as our thoughts. It's all about perception: no matter the event, conversation, situation—it is a thought or an insight changing your perception. Well, my perception is that nostalgia’s a nasty bitch. 

Nostalgia feels like an uninvited, annoying friend who shows up at the door of your mind, and they do not mean well. I mean, they might seem like they mean well, and they might seem fun, but… 

The tone of my piece today might seem negative, because it is. Because I genuinely believe that nostalgia brings nothing supportive or pleasant, but instead brings you down. It is so easy to respond to the bittersweet call of an actually very poisonous animal. At first, it seems like an invitation to feel nostalgic is a beautiful, calm, and even productive choice to spend time and energy; it brings back happy memories from the past, reminding you of the time spent well, brings up old faces, old patterns, locations, hobbies, and past decisions. It might seem like a great opportunity to analyse the past once again, and maybe, just maybe, detect a new detail you somehow haven’t psychologically analysed… However, here is my conundrum: I believe that by turning your face to the past, you are turning your back on the future. No, not actually—energetically and emotionally. 

By engaging with the memories and energies of the past, it is very probable to get attached to the past and see it through rose-colored glasses. You forget that the past had its own monsters. Unfortunately, it is easier to forget the bad and remember only the good. Because of the faux feeling of longing and sorrow for the past, the present is devalued, no matter its state! It is tough to remember that your current present—or at least parts of it, is what your past wished for. You get jealous of your past self, completely ignoring your present self. You unintentionally invite another annoying friend, who loooooooves to overstay their welcome: anxiety. At least I do. I should have specified- this is an expression of my personal experience that I have observed while encountering nostalgia. 

Anxiety is a warning our body produces when our mind believes there is some kind of danger. It’s fun when the anxiety comes out during rock climbing, for example. Since you actually are scared for your life. It is not fun when anxiety pops out when you’re nostalgic about your past self, filled with thoughts of how everything was better before. And there you have it—a feeling like you missed your turn, like the good times passed, and you will never have the same experience. I can only describe this feeling as a nasty liquid filling up your chest with sorrow, jealousy, and regret because, for some reason, 2 years ago was better?... The liquid fills up your thoughts, where you start comparing yourself, completely ignoring how far you’ve come. It is fun to think about how much fun you had with somebody who is not part of your life anymore, I know. But how much sorrow that brings today is, for some reason, forgotten and ignored? Those are heavy emotions that end up weighing down and get buried deep inside for the sake of remembering the good old days. 

The feeling of nostalgia has been romanticised heavily in our society. The feeling is beautiful, it is bittersweet, warm and cold, nice and mean, happy and sad, all at the same time. Sometimes nostalgia gives me an excuse to feel sorry for myself. And I do not like admitting this, it takes courage and honesty. I think it gives me a pass to escape today and reminisce about a past version of myself that died. But in a phoenix-like way, all of us will never be the same as we were two months ago. With this knowledge comes fear of the unknown and the fear of the future- our brain’s way to protect itself from the potential danger, of course. It is okay to be scared of tomorrow and to miss yesterday, since you know what happened yesterday, it feels safer. It feels closer. I really like the phrase “our nervous system will choose a familiar hell over unfamiliar heaven”. I believe the same goes for nostalgia—you feel “at home” when nostalgic because you have already experienced the past. You know how it goes, and that brings you comfort. It feels like a cozy blanket covering you, only for you to find out that the blanket actually has thorns from roses, piercing you more and more until you feel the accumulated pain. The pain? The sense of a devalued present. 

And there you are—sitting like a fool, feeling like one. You’ve poured so much energy into the past that you forgot how great the present and the future are. At least that’s how I feel every time.