The Fog of Memories

The past is something that’s been on my mind a lot lately. I’ve been reminiscing, remembering, and re-living, and I know that living in the past is not necessarily healthy behavior, but it’s like a sort of defense mechanism for me in my times of need. Some people escape to books, fantasies, and daydreams, but I escape to my memories.

Isn’t it rather interesting how pleasant memories seem to develop a warm haze over time? An idealized, dream-like quality becomes attached to them, like a warm Polaroid picture. They become perfect – almost too perfect. The pain of our past is conveniently discarded and dissolved, leaving behind only the pleasantries. We don’t like to remember pain. We like to remember warmth. We like to remember the good without the bad.

Maybe it’s important to come to this realization. Maybe it’s important to come to this understanding that the past is not as idealized as we think it is. Living in the past, living in nostalgia, is only half true. Our minds dissolve the unpleasantries and all that’s left is the warm, perfect goodness, leaving us looking back at them in the present and wishing we could go back. Perhaps it’s important to understand this to finally let go of the past, understand the life of the present, and move forward.

Our memories are fogged. I’ve been living in the past a lot lately, and I’m trying to let go. I’m trying to stop escaping my present. I’m trying to understand that the past I wish I could go to is a beautiful memory, yes, but conveniently ignores all of the pain I went through at those times. The present is just as equally great as the past, and it only seems unlike that way because I cannot dissolve my current problems of today. Maybe you too, friend, need to come to this realization just as much as I do.

Happy trails.