There’s a specific kind of nostalgia that goes beyond photography albums. It surfaces when we come across an old notebook, whether it’s filled with confessions or scribbles, when we hear a song that was part of our teenage soundtrack, or when we reunite with those friends who made high school at least somewhat bearable. It’s not exactly nostalgia for childhood, for the neighborhood where we grew up, or for those afternoons perfect for doing nothing. It’s the unsettling feeling of missing the person we once were.
Childhood can be described as the time in life when the most authentic and spontaneous version of ourselves takes precedence over everything else. Free from fears and regrets, we are driven only by endless curiosity and a desire to explore. But that free spirit gradually recedes as we begin to face the insecurities, responsibilities, heartaches, and anxieties of adulthood, leaving behind a loneliness that is almost impossible to ignore.
The Inner Child and Lost Authenticity
Swiss psychiatrist Carl Jung argues that the inner child is a fundamental aspect of the unconscious that holds onto memories, emotions, and the creativity of our earliest years — which we were taught to hide in our shadow.
Despite its repression in adulthood, it represents our purest essence, our potential for renewal, and our vulnerability. It is the part of us that retains the ability to play, regardless of how old we are.
It’s easy to forget that part of ourselves, especially when we’re surrounded by the demands of everyday life: the roles we’re expected to play in society, the expectations others place on us, and the fear of not fitting in with the standards of the outside world.
Please don’t take this the wrong way; this reflection isn’t meant to idealize childhood, but rather to spark a reconnection with the defining traits of that period, which are often suppressed by the identities we assume as time goes by. As unusual as it may seem, recent studies support the idea that genuine play and creative expression are things humans cannot outgrow.
Stress relief, emotional processing, increased pleasure, the list of benefits goes on. Mental health expert Dr. Caroline Fenkel notes that creative, physical, and social activities can lower the risk of cognitive decline, support motor function, combat loneliness, and may even contribute to neurogenesis (the generation of new neurons).
Where Did Our Sense of Belonging Go?
Losing touch with these very important sides of ourselves may have more to do with the environments in which we grew up than with the fact of getting older itself.
As children and teenagers, much of our nuanced identity is shaped through the collaborative efforts of communities, naturally fostering connection. I bet that, looking back, we’ll be able to see the structure the school works to build, the friendships that develop slowly through daily interactions, and the opportunity to let our curiosity run free as we explore new hobbies — without the suffocating pressure to turn them into something productive or profitable.
Without warning, adulthood arrives, bringing changes to almost everything that’s already familiar, whether physical, like moving out of your parents’ house, or emotional, like coming to terms with the start of a career that demands constant performance. I won’t even mention the bizarre routines that make it hard to hang out with friends and loved ones.
The line between adaptation and authenticity can easily become blurred when we become experts at meeting others’ expectations and taking on responsibilities. At the same time, our interests, passions, and worldviews begin to become distorted.
That younger, more imaginative, and fearless version hasn’t disappeared or gone away for good, but it rarely gets the chance to emerge and bring its lightness and essence to the surface.
Finding Our Way Back To Ourselves
Growing up was never supposed to mean rejecting those qualities, and nostalgia doesn’t have to make you dwell on the changes. I believe that maturing gives us considerable freedom to choose which parts of our past deserve a place in who we turn into.
Maybe the goal was never to bloom according to someone else’s expectations, but to fall in love once again with the person we were before the world convinced us we had to become someone else.
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The article above was edited by Julia Galoro.
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