Nostalgia for now

On missing the present, and a year of autonomy check-in

A quick note about today’s post: It’s hard to write about personal happiness when there is so much pain in the world. About half of my writing is about things that bring me joy and, sometimes, I feel ashamed of that. I am trying to balance the knowledge that my happiness doesn’t cause or take away from the suffering of others with my very real desire for everyone to feel comfort and safety, and my guilt over having what so many others do not.

I am reminding myself that I have also written plenty about my own pain and difficulty, and that I am allowed to share this, too, but I still feel the need to say that my current happiness within my personal life does not negate my sadness and anger over all of the unnecessary violence being inflicted in Gaza, Ukraine, Yemen, and the rest of the world. I know that many (likely most) of my readers feel the same, and so I wanted to speak to that part of you today as well. There is space for all of it, and I’m holding it with you.

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Remember when you wanted what you have now?

The truth is, I’ve never appreciated this phrase. I always felt like it was meant for a later version of me — one who had all her shit together and finally felt content. And after a while, there was a part of me that often thought I’d never actually get there.

I’ve spent most of my life looking forward — to the life I wanted that constantly felt out of reach — or backward, at moments of pain, and what felt like fleeting happiness. When I was thinking about the current moment, it was most often about how it could be better if…or worrying that it was all passing by too quickly, that I haven’t had any time to actually enjoy it, that I’m missing my chance.

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Photo by Girl with red hat on Unsplash

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I’m a 90’s kid, so my sense of nostalgia is higher than many, but I think part of me really struggles with something I would call a nostalgia for now — like a preemptive nostalgia for moments that haven’t quite passed yet.

I mostly used to feel it over moments when I realized I had missed out on an opportunity and think to myself that, one day, I would look back at that time and wish I’d done things differently, or that things had gone my way. And in the last handful of years (more than ever before, since becoming a parent) this sense of nostalgia for the current moment has been more of a back-and-forth mix of that earlier sort of regret, mingled with bursts of happiness and the knowledge that at every moment, things will never quite be the same again.

So it wasn’t until very recently that I realized: I’m there now. I have rather abruptly and unexpectedly reached the future me who can say yes to that question I’ve always resented:

Remember when you wanted what you have now?

Yes.

In so many ways, I am now living the life I always dreamed of.

Of course, it isn't all exactly what I pictured — I never could have imagined all of the possibilities for my life when I wasn’t even able to fully be myself — and it’s far from perfect, but it's full and beautiful, and I have finally reached a point where I feel deeply content. And I’ve realized that I don’t think what I imagined for myself all those years before was the point; it was how I imagined I’d feel when I got there that I should have been paying attention to all along.

And I feel quite certain that I have my year of autonomy to thank for getting me past the restless, stuck feeling I was experiencing so often before, and to this place of actually wanting (and being able) to inhabit the current moment of my life. I really believe this framing has been imperative in changing the way I approach my every day, and the way I am spending my time.

It gave me language to describe the way I wanted to feel, and a lens to prioritize differently, and so I have shifted my focus to how I want to feel first, rather than what I want in any given moment, knowing that both may shift over time but that there are certain things I keep coming back to; and that these are mostly simple, quiet things that are just for me.

Instead of constantly feeling like I need x, y, or z item or experience to feel content, knowing that those things may not actually deliver the feeling I'm hoping for or expecting, I have spent the first few months of this year paying close attention to the things I already have and do that make me feel that way, and considering how I can intentionally cultivate more of that feeling in ways that feel sustainable for me right now.

I’ve used this approach when making decisions about what I want to do each day, and whether to say yes to certain plans. It has made it easier to create and maintain boundaries around my energy and attention. I am leaning into the kinds of things that have always brought me joy and letting go of the rest.

Now that I have been able to be more present for a while and have found my way back to so many things I love that help keep me grounded in the moment, I’ve noticed that my nostalgia for now has changed again.

I still have a bit of the if only… to help guide me toward things still I want or need, and plenty of the ache over all the things I will miss, but now I am also starting to feel like when I look back on this time later in my life, I will mostly feel the same sort of contentment that I feel right now.

I imagine myself sitting with all those younger versions of myself and telling them, we made it — because, yes, I remember when I wanted what I have now — because, yes, I finally have it.

I have a feeling that my nostalgia for now isn’t unique to me, so if you can, tell me: what does yours feel like? And as always, feel free to share if this resonated with you!