“You shouldn’t envy me. Mostly I live in the past.”
–Brandon Stark (Game of Thrones, season 8, episode 4: “The Last of the Starks”)
Apologies for always quoting Game of Thrones—the series is littered with profound and poignant one-liners (and speeches, for that matter). I could fill an entire post with them! And when this one played across my screen a few days ago, I got all tingly inside, likely because of where my head (and heart) has been lately.
I’ve been mulling over this obsession I seem to have with lingering in the past. I realize it’s not the healthiest of pastimes, especially when the memories aren’t happy, but I can’t seem to help myself. Maybe it’s my fervent desire to learn, to understand: Who am I and how did I get here? What better way to answer these age-old questions than by delving deep? Sure, it can be intense and detrimental, but it’s also human and we’re all guilty of it at times.
Here are five ways I believe it’s beneficial—even vital—to look back:
It’s clarifying. All too often the battles we’re raging against today, and our decisions based on those battles, result from something that happened in our past. And we don’t realize it until we’re knee-deep in a situation and desperately seeking answers. Here I’m reminded of my own life. Since I was a child, I’ve been consumed by and petrified of sickness, constantly asking my mom “Am I going to die?” It became somewhat of a joke along the way but it’s not very funny from where I’m looking now. I had my share of illnesses as a child: pneumonia a few times, lots of strep throats, chicken pox, all the normal stuff to which kids are prone. But the one story that stands out is when I was around 5 or 6 years old. I developed a racking cough that went on for months. Every single night I would cough, cough, cough so hard and so long that I would vomit in my sleep. No doctor could figure out what was wrong, and no medications helped. My parents tell this horror story of being so exhausted from not sleeping night after night because they were so scared that I would vomit and choke. Boy do I know how that feels. Is that a coincidence?
Obviously, my issues with sickness go way back and I’ve carried them with me into adulthood and parenthood. I find it so interesting that when the time came for me to have my own family, the struggles my husband and I faced centered almost solely on illness—one right after another. And now we’re living within a pandemic fighting an unknown virus that kills. So, it’s quite clear why I’m terrified to expose my children by bringing them around other people or shipping them off to school. I have experienced this fear first-hand, as a young child and as a parent. I’ve been heading in this direction for decades and it’s all finally coming to the surface—the story behind who I am. Clarity. It’s critical to understanding, acceptance, and forgiveness (of oneself), and I wouldn’t have it without looking back.
It’s enlightening. Our past illuminates who we are and who we become. Lately, I’ve been flashing back to my early- to mid-20s. I haven’t written much about this time frame but in slowly peeling back the onion of my life, I’m discovering—much to my dismay—that something tragic (at least in my mind) happened during that time which epitomizes the way I view, experience, and cope with loneliness (and being alone) today. This is something that’s just now coming to light for me—actually I stumbled upon it during the writing class I took at the end of July. On our last day of class, the professor advised us to review our freewriting assignments and find the over-arching theme. Bet you can’t guess the theme I uncovered … that’s right, loneliness. Talk about enlightening! It made me so sad that I cried (not during class, but after). Why am I so consumed with solitude, back then and today? This burning question has sparked a fire within me to figure out where the heck all this is coming from, and the answer obviously lies somewhere in my past. Only by unlocking these closed doors and shining light on what’s inside can I truly understand and finally, hopefully, begin to heal.
It’s liberating. With healing comes freedom. Freedom from fear. Freedom from resentment. Freedom from melancholy, misunderstanding, and pain. Now that I’m diving deep into my most life-changing moments—from early adulthood to as recently as yesterday—and working toward recognizing and resolving their negative impact on my life, it’s like a weight has been lifted from my shoulders. I think that’s the key takeaway: By gradually pinpointing those moments that haunt us—even in our subconscious—and examining and acknowledging them, we can free ourselves of these shackles and take the first step forward. I still have a lot of work left to do here—I can’t tackle everything all at once, I have to do it in steps—but with each admission, each release, comes deliverance.
It’s restorative. Recently I’ve been focusing on (and writing about) the sadder, more depressing, more negative memories of my past, but honestly most of the time I’m remembering the best of the best: Christmases with all my cousins at my Babu & Dziadziu’s house, family picnics at the “green” lake near my childhood home, years of apple and pumpkin picking at the coolest places around Syracuse (I’ve yet to find any that rival those places), catching tadpoles with my brother in the creek behind our house, college days alongside my best friend, Disney trips–on our own and with my parents, planning and celebrating my wedding day, after-work libations in the city with friends and co-workers, exploring Italy with my husband and gorging on pasta, pizza, and wine. I could sit here and list a million more. These moments brought me such joy and peace and sustenance back then and they still do today. Whenever I’m feeling down or lonely or afraid or even angry, flashing back to these wonderfully happy occasions is the one thing certain to revive me. These “visits” are my therapy, and I intend to live in and draw strength from them for as long as I’m able.
It’s soothing. These are dark days in our world, and I continue to struggle with my fears and anxieties over this never-ending pandemic. I don’t see that going away any time soon. In about two weeks, my plate will become even fuller when I take on the gargantuan task of homeschooling my two children. I have no idea if keeping them out of school and safe at home is the right answer, but we’ve made our decision and now we have to make the most of it. Then I start to think about the upcoming holidays (I know it’s early but we’re coming up on my absolute favorite time of the year!) and how they’re going to look a hell of a lot different this year, meaning the four of us will be on our own, yet again. *Sigh* Thankfully I have a whole slew of fun-filled family traditions and several Josh Groban concerts (and new music) waiting in the wings!
But this is why I so desperately cling to the past. Because I’m happy and at peace there. Because I need a distraction, an escape from the sickness, loneliness, injustice, hate, racism, and overall unhappiness that’s plaguing our society. It’s no coincidence that I’m seeing articles about people scrapping their vacation plans and enjoying this ‘80s-style summer at home. Or wistfully reminiscing about the good old days of yesteryear. Or losing themselves in fantasy fiction, livestream music concerts, bread-baking, gardening, virtual art classes, exercise, wine. We are all desperate for escape, for release. For something to make us feel happy and alive again. Something to ease the pain. And right now, the only place we can turn to for that is the past.
I was planning to end my post there, but I’ve got another Game of Thrones quote that fits beautifully and since I began my post with a Thrones quote, well, please don’t hit me!
“He is our memory—the keeper of all our stories. The wars, weddings, births, massacres, famines. Our triumphs, our defeats … our past. Who better to lead us into the future?”
–Tyrion Lannister (Game of Thrones, season 8, episode 6: “The Iron Throne”)