Echoes of Anemoia: Nostalgia for an age yet to come

Gatsby and The Buzzcocks had it right all along

I’ve lived in nostalgia for as long as I can remember.

Taking memories down from imaginary shelves whenever I needed them, safety blankets of a time when things were simpler or at least made sense. It always felt so pristine. Safe. Things I couldn’t say or do in the moment I could replay in this version. The way I wish you’d looked or the things I wish I’d said. Sometimes I’m even nostalgic for things that never happened. I think this is called Anemoia.

In these memories, I can revisit the times I feel most myself. I couldn’t make sense of it then, probably didn’t even realize it was happening. But when I look back, I understand. I see how these puzzle pieces fit together to form a time that felt free, adventurous, safe, or adored. I can see the way the corners of my mind are trying desperately to put me back together, even before I know something is broken.

Is it normal to be so nostalgic? I’m not sure. I have to think not. But it’s how I’ve always been. Maybe it’s why I’ve always loved writing. A chance to relive the parts of myself that I’d rather not forget.

When I’m done with these reminders of who I once was, I put the people and the things I love back on their invisible shelves where they’ll wait another few months or years before coming back out. I’ll reach for them when I need them the most, archive them when they start to cause me more pain than solace.

The truth is, if these feelings and experiences were still so easily accessible, I wouldn’t have to reach for the furthest corners of my mind to access them. I wouldn’t have to stir up old memories and remind myself who I am and why it matters.

But they’re not.

And I do.

If I’m being very honest, I think I like it this way. One foot in the real world, the other in the past. Gatsby wasn’t so far off with that. It turns out you can repeat the past. You just have to be willing to isolate it for what it was. Understanding the bittersweet nature of losing those you once loved, whose laugh you could recognize across a crowded room, whose favorite foods and little eccentricities are burned into your memory, requires letting go. Sometimes they do this for us, others it’s a happenstance of time. Growing up, growing apart. It’s never easy. But it happens.

The important thing is they were here once, and it mattered. Not then, maybe; almost never then. But somewhere along the way, it became etched into your memory and refused to let go. It’s ok to embrace that. Better still, it’s important if we’re to understand who we are and how we got here. It’s important for understanding who we want to be, and the ever-winding roadmap to get there.

All these little pieces, they matter.

So yes, bask in nostalgia I say. For all the moments and memories that made you who you are. The longing is there for a reason. It’s to remind you of who you were and the things that once meant everything. This is who you are. This is who you can be.

And sometimes, it’s just a really nice way to honor the people you miss most. Sometimes, it’s just a beautiful way to pass the time.