Sometimes, It Doesn’t Hurt to Peek at the Past

So long as you don’t live there.

I recently stumbled upon an old diary entry I had written (yes, sometimes I write diary entries, and you should too! But I’ll save that for another time).

When I wrote this entry, I had in mind that one day I would stumble across it at exactly the right time, and suffice to say, as I sit here thinking about what my first article should be here at Thrive Global, I chanced a look at a bunch of old documents hiding away in the crevices of my computer’s harddrive.

Now usually I would write some sort of pretence here, or tell you exactly what you should take away from this article — you know, really spell it out for you, but on this occasion, I’m not going to.

I want you to read this completely without context, so that you may come to your own conclusion on whether sometimes, visiting the past, if only for a moment, can be a good thing.

Let’s get on with it.

“Today, I decided to remember every bad moment I’ve encountered during my lifetime. I thought long and hard, homing in on the details; the colours, the smells, the people, the anger, the sorrow, the confusion. Those times when I thought things couldn’t get better, that life was going down hill. That all was left was for me to hit the streets as hard as the pain hit me. Like a hammer to the face.
I remembered when I first found out that the “mother” I was living with, told me she wasn’t really my mother, but actually my nan. I remember looking into her eyes not quite understanding what she meant. I remember my dad sitting at the table staring at me. I couldn’t speak, everything around me seemed like it was never really there. I didn’t know how to respond.
I remember when I didn’t know about my sister having cancer, and not quite understanding why sometimes she would dissapear for weeks at a time while I sat in our room with our favorite book waiting for that bond that only young children call “magical”. I remember when I waited for weeks and weeks, waiting for her to laugh and tell me how stupid I was for falling down the stairs. She never did.
I remember when my real dad was put in prison for drug abuse. For the tears of my Nan and me not quite understanding why, even when she told me. I remember the confusion when they told me I couldn’t see him anymore.
I remember when I was told my real mother had died. The anger, frustration, sorrow, helplessness.
I also remember when I found out she wasn’t really dead, and that there was a confusion in the social services office. I didn’t know whether to be happy or sad, angry or relieved.
I remember thinking that I had lost a sister, a mother, a father, not understanding any of the reasons why.
I remember many other scenarios where my mortal self was ready to break.
Then I laughed.
I laughed for every single second I was ready to chuck it all in and admit defeat.
I laughed because I knew that at one point in the past I was going to say fuck it.
I laughed because I looked at where I am now.
I’ve learnt that if you want to survive in life, you need to look forward to every event and situation that will bring you joy and happiness. Every dream you have yet to live, all the great people you’ll meet along the way, all the friends that will make you laugh, the family that aren’t really family but always were.
Every new bad moment to experience that makes you a better, stronger, wiser person.
Everything you think will kill you, until you tread through it.
I compared where I was, to where I am now. And that all it took was time to understand.
I never laughed so hard.”

I can safely say, for me personally, this message never fails to ring true.

Feel free to let me know your thoughts and what kind of message came through for you, and don’t hesistate to poke fun either!

Until next time.

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