Thursday, March 09, 2017

Nostalgia Stalking

Nostalgia vexes me.

There is a good and right nostalgia, the sort that comes perhaps at moments of wistful thinking or gentle sadness when needed.  It may bring a moment to mind or perhaps a picture when we need it most, something to carry us over the hump of currently difficult circumstances.

Alas, my nostalgia does not typically operate in that fashion.

Mine seems to be much more insidious, quietly waiting in the back of my mind for a downturn in mood or situation.  Then it leaps to the forefront with those magical moments of the past and the "what ifs" of a future it tries to script out in my mind.  Not that any of this is based in reality, of course:  in my case, not only can I not enter the same river twice but I seem to have the unfortunate habit of burning the bridge over it and everything in it back from the bank for two miles.  The nostalgia does not care, of course, and usually I am not in the mood to examine the geography of the emotional at that time.

I am trying to be more aware.  I figured out this week, perhaps for the first time, when it strikes me hardest:  when I am emotionally upset or fragile or even somewhat depressed.  And I can see where it is trying to take me - if not to a point of bad decision making at least to the point of thinking that there are options when quite often there are none. It works on my mind and soul like a good masseuse works on the back and shoulders, massaging out all the current tensions and leaving the mind relaxed and open to what I am sure it hopes will be its kindly recommendations.

Why this is, I have not fully determined.  The nostalgia is coming from somewhere and it seems rather bent on ultimately causing chaos and emotional harm.  Am I trying to subconsciously destroy myself?  Is this simply the attempt to ease a pain that exists by floating a false past and unknown hope?  Or is there something else at play here that I cannot see?

I know little and see less.  All I can say with certainty is that even as I write this I can feel it stalking the back of my soul, whispering its siren song of pastel pasts and translucent futures to a heart that too often seems to see and feel only in shades of gray.


Glen Filthie said...

If I had the smarts and the way with words I coulda written that one word for word myself, TB. I sit on the banks of that bombed out bridge, looking back over that river all the time now.

I've never figured that one out either. Why is it so hard to let go of personal emotional baggage? What I would give to be able to walk away, and never look back...

kymber said...

dear me...another one hit right out of the park!!! i read it to jambaloney and he thought it was great, too! i am really liking the direction your thoughts have been taking you lately. and here is some high praise that i don't hand out lightly:

Uncle Gerald would enjoy some of your most recent posts!

you are a doer - that's unquestionable. but one thing you may not completely acknowledge about yourself is that you are also "a thinker"...and i find that lately in your posts - you've thought about a concept and had enough time to think it through and that's why the writing is so good.

and you should probably be sending me money for writing such a glowing comment. teehee.

sending love as always! your friend,

Toirdhealbheach Beucail said...

Thanks for the kind words, Glen.

It is odd, is it not? I think you are asking the right question: Why is it so hard to let go of personal emotional baggage (and its corollary, why do I seem to take such great pleasure in torturing myself?)? If I were wiser I feel as if I could see more clearly.

Toirdhealbheach Beucail said...

High Praise indeed Kymber. Thank you - although Uncle Gerald probably saw farther ahead than we ever will.

I have been trying to run my thoughts to ground in a more cogent fashion. It is reassuring to hear that perhaps this is coming through.

The check is undoubtedly in mail.

Much love, TB