Anyone who knows me well knows two things I highly value in life: memory and nostalgia.
I have a profound memory of even the most intricate details in life. Never have I ever been forgetful of moments that shaped me, from what movies my childhood (and current) best friend tried to reenact donning my mom's high heels, to what song played when friends' parted ways for college, to what I was wearing when I first met someone special.
Although I understand that having a strong memory is by no means a choice, I do like to consider it a defining personality trait. As a black belt in the power of memory, I can confidently say the ability to recreate life’s defining moments has defined who I am. For better or for worse, it gives me the ability to relive both my highlight reels and my lowest times, serving as a double edge sword.
Memorializing, and essentially memorizing, my past showed me the importance of reflection. We’ve all heard about the supposedly consuming capabilities of mediation from that random yoga class we signed up for last year, but this sort of reflection doesn’t have to be all that spiritual.
Reflection of life’s greatest moments can truly set you on the track to your best life, or at least one in which you actually know who you are. In this context, “great” is not to be confused with “good.” I know; forget your elementary-school-understanding and refer to the dictionary definition of great: "of an extent, amount, or intensity considerably above the normal or average." We, as a society, have somehow added a positive connotation to this word that really just means heavy, strong, impeding; the description of something that is bleeding out the bandaid and refutes ignorance.
In my form of reflection, “great” moments encompass it all: the fabulous, the miserable, the hideous. People like to call me an emotional person. Since we are on the topic of connotations, let’s address the elephant in the room: "Emotional" has a negative connotation. Although my insecure high-school-self may disagree with this, I personally see being intact with my emotions, and consequentially my memories, as a positive trait. Sure, maybe that has to do with my passion for people, words, and some wonderful eye contact, so slap a bias stamp on this makeshift opinion piece.
You’re entitled to your beliefs about the drawbacks of being emotionally intuned, of course, but it gives me the power to simultaneously put myself and others first. In today’s society, we are facing the Madonna-whore complex with relationship prioritization. Selflessness is deemed as one of the best qualities one can have, but not making decisions that better yourself above all is seen as a weakness. In an era of empowerment serving as the main course, do we still have room for a side of selflessness?
Of Course. Absolutely. You just have to know yourself first.
Although this may have taken a left turn into tangent town, I do believe knowing yourself, and therefore having the ability to give to others, does stem from memories. In the work world, we constantly discuss how failure leads to improvement, while in our personal lives, failure in a relationship--familial, romantic, self, or otherwise--is just failure.
Honestly reflecting on our greatest memories (fabulous and miserable) is the key to success. We tend to either shut them down until these once-beloved memories turn to dust, or paint an award-winning watercolor over them to fill in the blanks we always refused to acknowledge. How many times have you defended something you knew was wrong for you, falling in love with the idea of the {fill-in-the-blank} over the actual {fill-in-the-blank}?
Next comes point number two. A defining characteristic of Caroline is my obsession with nostalgia. The most effective and enjoyable vehicle toward indulging in these great memories is nostalgia. Actively seeking out mementos that remind you of a life-altering month, moment, or minute can feel like a re-boot of your favorite Friends episode. As painful as it may be to know that moment is gone--that the episode is over--it doesn’t mean you can’t rewatch it again. Sure, it now lacks that sense of impulsively and toe-tingling excitement, but the added layer of nostalgia (somewhat) makes up for it.
So, I invite you to take a drive to that place you first met them, listen to that song you heard at your first real party, hang up those polaroids of your departed grandparents. If you’re really feeling like excelling, share this moment with someone you love. Compile new memories to freshen up the old while still paying tribute to your past.
Because if you can face your past, and all that encompasses, you can face anything. Our biggest critic is ourselves.
To intentionally remembering yesterday, today, and tomorrow,
caroline hughes
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