Pendulum
I had a weird confluence of different eras of my life today that brought me both longing and joy.
ERA I: I was really fortunate to spend my entire life in one place until my mission. While that might have robbed me of some of the things kids learn as they relocate—resilience, an ability to make friends in new situations, etc.—it also provided me with a lot of stability that fostered the development of long term relationships that I still treasure to this day. I feel immense tenderness towards my hometown and the people I associate with Tucson by virtue of having so much personal history with that place/them.
As I revisited old blog posts and spent a long time thinking about things I’ve experienced today, I couldn’t help but feel very far removed from that part of my life. I looked at photos of my pre-mission life and felt some embarrassment at who I was then (who wasn’t periodically very awkward in their young adulthood?), but also some envy for the optimism and unbridled joy I carried. Those times were so different. And while I might just be mistaking this phenomena with the passing of time we are all victim to, I can’t help but feel that that era was a different life completely from the one I live now. An intense nostalgia set in, wishing to feel the way I felt then, longing to be that excited kid with such a bright outlook on most things. I miss those friends, I miss my mom, I miss that things were simpler for me then.
ERA II: The phase of life I’m in now, one ushered in by my mission and the subsequent happenings of the first few years after coming home, has had its own beauties that could only be experienced, understood and valued by someone who was moving into a more independent and mature place. And while I know that is a natural occurrence for people to evolve emotionally, it still feels like leaving behind youth or innocence. Recognizing and confronting the passage of time can be uncomfortable for some, as it was today for me. Seeing those pictures from years ago and reliving some of those times was fun, but it also stung because it feels like so much of what I was doing then that brought me joy isn’t really available to me anymore.
What I think I’m coming around to, though, is that I’m not necessarily missing any particular experience or pastime, or even who I was during those years, but rather I’m struggling through what I’m feeling right now amidst social isolation during the COVID-19 pandemic. What hurt might not be the fact that youth is fleeting (although I don’t love that), but rather that what I would ordinarily be pursuing to find joy and optimism is far less available to me now like I was free to do in those old times. Sure, I’m more cynical now, and I’ve been through some things that hurt; I am different than I was then, as is the world and my individual circumstances. But it’s not like there isn’t happiness to be had. On the contrary, I’ve lived a beautiful and meaningful life in these post-mission years, even amidst what has been challenging. But I’m losing sight of that as I struggle through this public health crisis.
In an effort to keep myself and others safe, I’ve been spending an immense amount of time at home, communicating far less with the people I enjoy. I am feeling my extraverted nature and immense desire to connect with others pushed to new limits as I struggle to find ways to do that meaningfully without endangering anyone. Seeing photos of a past era, in which I could be with my friends and not worry tugged at my heartstrings and made me pine for a time that didn’t feel as complicated as being a full-fledged adult.
THE CONFLUENCE: Where the old met the new was when some friends from my Mesa life came by to pick up some cookies I’d made. Nick and Carley are lovely people that are charming, kind, and intelligent. I genuinely loved getting to chat with them. And it was such a valuable reminder to me that, sure, getting older and farther removed from a time in my life that felt more secure and was super fun isn’t necessarily a great feeling, but it doesn’t mean that it’s all downhill from there. Nostalgia reminded me of the good I’ve seen and felt. It’s not a bad thing to take a walk down memory lane and feel happiness in those old times. But to allow it to obscure what is actually going on in my life in the present is unhelpful, and also negligent. The last (almost) seven years since returning from Kentucky have been wonderful in a lot of ways that I’d have never anticipated. Nick and Carley were just one piece of proof that there’s goodness in my life, even if a virus is making those things harder to see, and that’s what I think I’ve had the hardest time wrapping my brain around as I go through this unusual time. In January I was planning for a blockbuster year. I wanted to take life into my own hands and ensure that it was excellent. Just because what I had planned in terms of events and travel is on hold for now doesn’t mean they aren’t still possible for me at some point, and shouldn't remove the idea that this phase of life is any less good than others I've lived.
Truthfully, I sort of hate that I’m even typing this all out, because this is a refrain I have blogged about, journaled personally about, and talked about with so many people about at length. I need to learn to not let the emotional pendulum swing so hard and so swiftly that I end up in these funks. But what’s great is that the majority of these pendulum swings go from hard to good, instead of the other way around, and I’m floored each time at what awesome people and things are in my life.
ERA I: I was really fortunate to spend my entire life in one place until my mission. While that might have robbed me of some of the things kids learn as they relocate—resilience, an ability to make friends in new situations, etc.—it also provided me with a lot of stability that fostered the development of long term relationships that I still treasure to this day. I feel immense tenderness towards my hometown and the people I associate with Tucson by virtue of having so much personal history with that place/them.
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| Tucson is so pretty. |
As I revisited old blog posts and spent a long time thinking about things I’ve experienced today, I couldn’t help but feel very far removed from that part of my life. I looked at photos of my pre-mission life and felt some embarrassment at who I was then (who wasn’t periodically very awkward in their young adulthood?), but also some envy for the optimism and unbridled joy I carried. Those times were so different. And while I might just be mistaking this phenomena with the passing of time we are all victim to, I can’t help but feel that that era was a different life completely from the one I live now. An intense nostalgia set in, wishing to feel the way I felt then, longing to be that excited kid with such a bright outlook on most things. I miss those friends, I miss my mom, I miss that things were simpler for me then.
ERA II: The phase of life I’m in now, one ushered in by my mission and the subsequent happenings of the first few years after coming home, has had its own beauties that could only be experienced, understood and valued by someone who was moving into a more independent and mature place. And while I know that is a natural occurrence for people to evolve emotionally, it still feels like leaving behind youth or innocence. Recognizing and confronting the passage of time can be uncomfortable for some, as it was today for me. Seeing those pictures from years ago and reliving some of those times was fun, but it also stung because it feels like so much of what I was doing then that brought me joy isn’t really available to me anymore.
What I think I’m coming around to, though, is that I’m not necessarily missing any particular experience or pastime, or even who I was during those years, but rather I’m struggling through what I’m feeling right now amidst social isolation during the COVID-19 pandemic. What hurt might not be the fact that youth is fleeting (although I don’t love that), but rather that what I would ordinarily be pursuing to find joy and optimism is far less available to me now like I was free to do in those old times. Sure, I’m more cynical now, and I’ve been through some things that hurt; I am different than I was then, as is the world and my individual circumstances. But it’s not like there isn’t happiness to be had. On the contrary, I’ve lived a beautiful and meaningful life in these post-mission years, even amidst what has been challenging. But I’m losing sight of that as I struggle through this public health crisis.
In an effort to keep myself and others safe, I’ve been spending an immense amount of time at home, communicating far less with the people I enjoy. I am feeling my extraverted nature and immense desire to connect with others pushed to new limits as I struggle to find ways to do that meaningfully without endangering anyone. Seeing photos of a past era, in which I could be with my friends and not worry tugged at my heartstrings and made me pine for a time that didn’t feel as complicated as being a full-fledged adult.
THE CONFLUENCE: Where the old met the new was when some friends from my Mesa life came by to pick up some cookies I’d made. Nick and Carley are lovely people that are charming, kind, and intelligent. I genuinely loved getting to chat with them. And it was such a valuable reminder to me that, sure, getting older and farther removed from a time in my life that felt more secure and was super fun isn’t necessarily a great feeling, but it doesn’t mean that it’s all downhill from there. Nostalgia reminded me of the good I’ve seen and felt. It’s not a bad thing to take a walk down memory lane and feel happiness in those old times. But to allow it to obscure what is actually going on in my life in the present is unhelpful, and also negligent. The last (almost) seven years since returning from Kentucky have been wonderful in a lot of ways that I’d have never anticipated. Nick and Carley were just one piece of proof that there’s goodness in my life, even if a virus is making those things harder to see, and that’s what I think I’ve had the hardest time wrapping my brain around as I go through this unusual time. In January I was planning for a blockbuster year. I wanted to take life into my own hands and ensure that it was excellent. Just because what I had planned in terms of events and travel is on hold for now doesn’t mean they aren’t still possible for me at some point, and shouldn't remove the idea that this phase of life is any less good than others I've lived.
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| N+C are wonderful. |
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