Adulthood truly began for me about four years ago—when I started getting paid for my time and presence. Since then, I’ve never had the same freedom to simply daydream. I can no longer lose myself for hours listening to the songs that defined my high school years or reread the poems I once wrote, reflecting on who I was and why I did the things I did.
It’s great to find patterns, sometimes negative ones, sometimes productive ones. I find it therapeutical and healing to reflect on the past. It’s a kind of nostalgia that doesn’t hold us back, as it does when we’re depressed or dissatisfied with life. Instead, when approached through a psychoanalytic lens, it reveals both the positive and negative tendencies that have shaped us over time.
The delight of old memories
But recalling old times is like tasting a dessert your grandma used to cook back then. Feeling the scent of an old fragrance that we used in a specific year. Flip through that photo album from your ten year-old birthday party. It can be absolutely unproductive and just serve the purpose of being delightful. There’s a longing attached to it, that can only happen when you’re completely available. Like you used to be when you were nineteen and unemployed.
I don’t mind sounding like an old lady—remembering the past gives me life. In a world that constantly pushes productivity, nostalgia doesn’t feel like wasted time to me. It’s a necessary indulgence, a source of comfort and joy, especially in this moment of my life.