In an uncertain world, nostalgia is my reprieve
Like many others during the pandemic, I developed a worthy coping mechanism in the form of escapism. I needed an escape from the reality of the situation. But now, left with its impacts—and since the World Health Organization has declared the end of the global health emergency—I still find myself incapable of facing the world outside my head.
During the lockdown, I turned to books for enjoyment. This was not anything new. Those who know me are well aware of my profound and long-time love of reading.
What is so beautiful about literature is that every person has a unique interpretation of a book or literary work. For every person, a book means something different. It exists as a nexus between the author and the audience, its significance being unique for each individual reader.
More specifically, however, I returned to the books of my childhood, rereading Harry Potter, Percy Jackson and the Chronicles of Narnia, amongst others. These worlds have long existed in my mind, transcending their positions as childhood classics to become their own within my imagination.
Gone were the days of reading The Bell Jar or Lord of The Flies, traded in favor of the comfort of nostalgia. I watched all the movies of the Harry Potter and Narnia franchises. Moreso, I recall even fixing up my room to seem like a Hogwarts dormitory or a Camp Half-Blood cabin.
This was my desperate attempt to relive my early childhood, reasoning that no one would want to face a pandemic when they could retreat to the depths of memory.
Unknown to me then, this avoidance of present reality would become a common theme. Any stimulant of stress I found in my daily life would force me into emotional hiding. Soon, simply rereading childhood novels was not enough: I daydreamed about what life used to be like—or rather, what I thought it had been like.
For brief periods of time, memories would envelop my mind, rewinding to a past seen only through rose-colored glasses. I clung to the more youthful, stress-free, and bright days of elementary school. I dug up birthday cards and pored over old photographs, trying to remember what it had been like as if paper and Polaroid were portals to better times. Every moment was spent eulogizing a memory or experience that had already passed.
The problem was, as much as I tried and wanted to, I was not reliving my memories. I was simply creating this glorified version of past experiences. I became disconnected from my reality, holding onto a partially falsified and idealized past until it had become my entire being. It had rendered me unable to fully appreciate what I presently had.
Reflecting upon this time now, I realize all I have missed as a result. I think of all the unwatched sunsets, the unspent moments playing with my dog, all these fleetingly ephemeral moments I had not seen the value in at the time.
Whatever situation I found myself in would not live up to the expectations set by romanticized memories. I did not remember to appreciate living in the present as much as I despaired to live in my head. I could not adapt. I did not face my stressors and problems head-on. To put it plainly, I did not grow.
And that is what I am doing my best to learn from. Currently, I do my best to remain grounded in the present: with my education, friends and family. I now only momentarily flee to the depths of nostalgia in instances of distress.
While I maintain my belief in the value of reflection and imagination, one must find a balance between the past, present and future. As the world has begun to open up once more, it has become increasingly important to me that I continue progressing in this quest for balance.