We Can't Go Back

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I, more than most people I know (at least it feels like), experience nostalgia frequently. For most of my life, it didn’t occur to me that my feelings of nostalgia could be negative in any way. What could be so dangerous about having a deep affection for beloved memories? As a romantic, it would seem as if this nostalgia would be useful in finding inspiration and creative muses. 

During my mid-twenties, I had several prominent incidents that taught me a great lesson: we can never return to the past, or even relive certain relationships and experiences. This doesn’t mean we shouldn’t have happy memories but it’s best for us to leave them as just that—happy memories. 

One of these prominent incidents is in regards to my relationship with my cousins. 

My family emigrated from South Korea to the United States when I was 3-years-old and we were the only ones out of my relatives to move out of a small 5 mile radius that my entire extended family lived in. I don’t remember much from our early years in America but my parents say it was lonely and confusing. A few years later though, my mom’s aunt, with her husband and three children moved to the United States to be closer to us. A few years after that, my mom’s sister, along with her husband and two children arrived here as well. 

My memories of my first years in America are scant but my childhood memories with all of my cousins surrounding me are abundant and marvelous. I’m lucky in that the children from my mom’s aunt’s family as well as my mom’s sister’s family are about the same age as my brother and me. So let me tell you, our holidays and vacations were awesome. The 7 of us kids would come up with the most elaborate adventures including jumping off the second story of our house onto a heap of mattresses and pillows, making movies (and these were like, really good movies with interesting story lines, plot twists, and intricate characters!), and getaways in snowy places filled with skiing and hot chocolate at the end of the day. These memories with my cousins make up some of my happiest childhood memories.  

I think it was particularly beneficial for me to have this strong family network because we were immigrants in a new country surrounded by people who didn’t look like us, didn’t speak the same language as us, who didn’t eat the same kind of food as us. 

Then one year, the communication with my mom’s aunt’s side of the family suddenly stopped. They were no longer invited to our home for holidays and we were no longer invited to theirs. A short time after that, communication with my mom’s sister’s side of the family stopped as well. 

I never figured out completely what happened between the parents and when I asked my own parents, the stories were varied, inconsistent, and provoked really bitter emotions so I learned to just stop bringing it up.

Years passed without contact. Then, we kids grew up. We somehow found out one another’s cell phone numbers and started getting in touch again. And for a brief time, I held the belief that the past could be relived; that the 7 of us could be close again. We would go on vacations and give our children what we once had. 

But when all of us came together on a couple of occasions, it was clear that the dynamic had changed. While my parents had been circumspect in detailing the conflict to us, the other parents had not, and had influenced their children’s perceptions of one another. 

I kept trying to conjure up the previous dynamic we had by acting as a go-between and correcting their distorted perceptions of one another, hosting dinner parties for all of us, and inviting both sides of the family to important life events like my son’s birthday party and baptism. Each time though, conflicts would arise and I could no longer be in denial. Eventually, I progressed from a denial driven by naive optimism to a resigned acceptance. Now, I only get together with my cousins individually. 

For brevity’s sake, I won’t go into the details about the other incidents, which led me to the same realization that we can’t relive the past. They all followed a similar trajectory: I would have amazing experiences with a high school boyfriend or college roommates or childhood best friend. Those memories would be so strong and fill me with so much happiness that I would convince myself that those relationships could be revived to the same incarnations. I would be disappointed each time. 

Previous experiences and relationships cannot be pulled into the present in their previous forms, no matter how much we long for them or force them to be once again. This used to pain me immensely. 

I’ve come to accept this as simply the natural outcome of one of the most beautiful facets of creation—we are constantly evolving and growth-seeking creatures. We grow older, have children (or choose not to while others around us do), develop different opinions, priorities, lifestyles, and interests. We are not meant to be stagnant and if we are, it means we aren’t living in accordance with our purpose to continually expand. Our expansion and growth is the source of our fulfillment.

We will lose old relationships but we will also gain new ones. Long but steady relationships will also alter. My relationship with my husband for instance, barely resembles the one we had when we first started dating 12 years ago. And trust me, this is a good thing!

So this blog post is meant to communicate this simple message—we cannot return to the past. If you’re like me, this may bring you massive grief at first. The flip side of grief though, is hope—a hope and anticipation of new memories that are aching to be born as well as our own expansion by growing from previous mistakes and joys. And that truly is exciting to me, maybe even enough to dull the pain of my nostalgia.

Finally, this all points to the sobering truth that we possess nothing but the present moment. The past has already happened; The future isn’t guaranteed. Live your life such that you are happiest now and there’s nothing else you long for but this. very. moment.