Blast From The Past
I don’t know if there’s something going on astrologically (if someone wants to read my chart, contact me lol), but I’ve been reconnecting with a lot of people lately. While that seems to be a theme from the past few years in general, it’s been wild lately. Some have been totally heartwarming and exciting while others have felt almost disorienting. Like, what were they thinking about that made me come to mind with enough impact to encourage them to send a message? It’s one thing to have a fleeting thought about someone from the past (I do all the time), but it’s another to then take the next steps of finding them and reaching out. Especially after literal decades.
Aside from the obvious memories and emotions people might specifically conjure based on my relationship to them when we were younger, I’m finding that long-forgotten or fuzzy parts of my life are coming into sharper focus again, simply because my mind has been reminded of them in a more concrete way… Even memories completely unrelated to the person or people dropping back into my life. I won’t be writing about specifics or anything, but it’s gotten me thinking about the way so much of our past influences our present, even without consciously being aware of that process. Perhaps that’s partly because I’ve been back in the manuscript that explores several related thematic questions:
How much of who we are today is directly impacted by who we’ve once been?
What effects do our memories have on our perception and expression of identity? What about how we relate with the world?
Do we ever truly forget anything, or is the core of memory stored somewhere deep in our bodies?
Are our behaviors being influenced by past experiences, even when we don’t consciously remember them?
Maybe if I weren’t actively revising this manuscript I wouldn’t be thinking so much into what everything means. Or maybe I would, because my brain easily sinks into rumination. Regardless, here we are.
I’ve often said my teenage and college years are a blur. Whether it was the mental health challenges, the malnutrition (I was deep in anorexia at that time), the substance abuse, the PTSD, or something else, I’ve always had a somewhat hazy recollection of that time in my life. But lately, those memories have been trickling back in with startling detail. An old acquaintance sought me out on social media, and I was temporarily transported back in time. I remembered things about my high school and early college years that I’d have been perfectly happy leaving in the past, but I’m trying to view it as an opportunity to dive deeper into myself. It reminds me of the main character in my book, unsure as to whether or not remembering is such a great thing. Like her, I tended to dissociate and avoid things when I was younger, so even though I’m 40 now, my mind is still able to surprise me with these kinds of reminders, even if I don’t have magically-induced amnesia like my protagonist.
It isn’t always something as obvious as a person reaching out after 25 years. Sometimes, memories surface at the strangest instances, usually from a seemingly innocuous bit of stimuli… A song on the radio, a tiktok video, a mannerism in one of my kids. I find it fascinating how we can “forget” things for a time to clear up more space in our minds for our current lives, but just like that our old memories reappear, laughing at the fact we’d convinced ourselves they were gone.
Scents are a strong memory trigger for many, and I’m no exception. A particular smell can bring a memory crashing into consciousness more quickly than just about anything else for me. Apple pie scent is my great-grandmother’s house, right alongside the smell of musty brown floral couches and worn carpets. Who remembers the ones I’m talking about? Maybe they’re better described as a combination of brown, cream, and rust? I’ve included a picture just in case anyone wants the specific image. Perhaps it does the same for you, if you were born before the 1990’s. For me, these couches immediately call to mind fresh baked pie, my great-grandfather playing old gospel hymns on the guitar, and the feel of burying my hands in the button tin. It’s visceral.
I often mine my own life and memories for my writing, and incorporate small details that people who know me well can identify instantly as being inspired by something I’ve experienced. Since we’re looking at a couch similar to my great-grandparents’, I’ll stick with that for a second. In the book I’m currently querying, there’s a scene where the main character, as a child, is sitting in her grandmother’s room, sorting the buttons her grandma keeps in a Danish butter cookies tin. It may seem like a throwaway detail, but any of the people in my family will know exactly what I’m writing about, because they likely sat and sorted those same buttons while visiting that house. It immediately conjures a nostalgic feeling for me, and I like to put that kind of specificity in my work because I think it makes it more relatable and authentic. For the people who don’t share such a specific memory, they’ll move right along with the scene. But for those of us who have sorted buttons while the grown-ups talked, it will feel like time travel.
So, as I do my best not to over-think things (I’m failing, obviously), I’m trying to do two things at once… The healthy, therapized version of myself is reminding me to stay present even as uncomfortable memories surface from a long-forgotten time in my life, and the creative avoidant version of myself is writing things down to use as content in future projects. I could lie and say otherwise, but I’m not a great liar—just ask my kids—and I’ve learned it’s best to own the way my mind works rather than judging it. It’s alright to hold two seemingly-at-odds experiences at once. I can acknowledge that unpleasant memories sometimes arise when I’m reminded of those years while also acknowledging that it will make really great specificity for a book down the road. I can be in my body and my mind; neither is particularly better than the other and both are important for understanding our experiences.
Here’s to embracing the past!
For Writers:
If you’re a fellow writer (or also if you’re not), maybe it’d be a fun exercise to pull out an old yearbook or dig through those boxes in storage. Of course, if it would be triggering in the sense that it could destabilize your mental health, disregard this suggestion. But if you’re like me and don’t have the strongest recollection of things without some sort of physical reminder—be that a sensation, object, or verbal prompt—it could be worth intentionally seeking out those memories. Whether they make it into any of our writing later is ultimately unimportant, so long as we’re engaging our minds and allowing ourselves to remember who we used to be. I can’t speak for anyone else, but I have far more compassion now for my old self than I ever did back then, and I’m using these opportunities as a way to connect with her and thank her for living our life the best way she could at the time. That healing is way more important than a book… but don’t be surprised to find some of those little nuggets dropped into the pages of future work from me. Have fun, take it slow, and happy remembering. <3
