Keeping a Pocket of Nostalgia in a World of Change

One thing about me is that I hate change. Yet somehow, I’m always driving for new goals, chances, and spaces. While I say I am a big dreamer, I have such a hard time letting go of anything. Apartments, cars, books, notes, photos… You name it. I currently own a memory box for each year since 2020…

Maybe it’s attachment, sadness, love (or all of them), but I like to think of it as nostalgia. 

Recently, I went to a concert with my little brother, and it reminded me of how much I missed home and how different our relationship was now that I was in college. Why have I left behind the core parts of myself after moving away? And how do I get them back? 

Hidden Meaning 

Throughout this week, I began noticing small pieces of my younger self that were peeking into my life. When I stopped and noticed them, I wondered when they became so obscure to me. 

I was cleaning my apartment and found a painting I had made that I packed to hang up during the summer. This painting had been on my wall since junior year of high school, through my freshman dorm room and into my old apartment. But this time, for some reason, I didn’t put it up. Simply put, it just didn’t match my aesthetic anymore. I hoped I would find a place for it at some point, so I kept it in my closet. Only to realize the only place it lived was in my mind, not on the walls. 

Mirror Images 

There are two versions I see myself as: 

Version A (me now): booked and busy, job as a writing tutor, independence, pursuit of my English and science passions, writing articles biweekly, found on-campus community, living in San Marcos, visits family once a month, lives near my best friend of 7 years, travels a lot. 

Version B (before college): confused and content, living with my parents and 3 brothers, tons of art classes, theater rehearsals, 20+ hours of ballet classes a week, a close-knit group of friends, job as a lifeguard, living in Central Texas.

It feels strange to crave certain parts of my life before college so much when I truly do love who I am now. The truth is, it makes me feel weak, ungrateful, and doubtful of my growth. It seems stupid to miss a younger version of myself. 

Nonetheless,

I miss having time to do the things I love. I dedicated so much of my life to dance, and I haven’t taken a class in so long. I crave living next door to my two best friends again and having sleepovers every weekend. I long for late movie nights with my brothers while our parents yell at us to be quiet. I can still imagine biking around my old neighborhood. Most of all, I remember when painting wasn’t something I had to schedule, and I was overflowing with ideas. 

I miss when the future didn’t feel so present. 

Invisible String 

This bittersweet, emotional mindset is suffocating. It stops me from being in the present moment by thinking of the past. Every new friend reminds me of the ones I haven’t texted this week. Every new class means late-night studying instead of reading my favorite book. Getting a new job means missing birthdays.

Every success feels weighed down by what I’m leaving behind.

But is this reminiscing actually benefiting me? Perhaps I’m better off than I was before. Maybe I’ll even be daydreaming about my life a couple of years later just like I am now. By ignoring all the parts of my life now that are worth celebrating, I’m missing out on the new memories that will be just as special as the ones I remember. 

That fact is enough to pull me out of my pity party. As much as I would like to relive parts of my younger self, what makes them so special is that they weren’t forever. The comforting thing is that they will always be a part of me. And each person, memory, or place has formed the person I am now. 

Sincerely… 

Maybe it’s not about going back to who I used to be, but bringing back the parts of myself that make me, me. 

Whether it’s making time to read some old journal entries, scheduling time to meet up with old friends, or sketching before class, time passing doesn’t mean forgetting. And switching my perspective from sadness to gratitude, making space to honor what once was and what it has taught me. 

I’ll find a place for that painting in my studio apartment. Not because I think it will match any more than it did a month ago. But because it doesn’t. 

Mismatched on the wall, it will remain a reminder that the parts of my past I miss still exist today.

• #growing up
• Nostalgia