The Nostalgia Blackhole

I've been thinking a lot about the last few years as my life is shrouded in uncertainty once again and I've come to the realisation that my memory has a black hole of 5 years that it's impossible to reflect on without getting sucked in and consumed by darkness.

2017 saw the start of my journey into darkness; when my treatment for Sarcoidosis came to an end I was advised recovery would take around 2 years before I would get back on my feet. Those two years came to an end at Christmas in 2019, with the start of 2020 my renewed optimism was immediately shot down along with everyone else's. Arguably the period of depression that followed didn't come to an end until around 2022, whilst for some it simply passed its peak.

Those 5 years from 2017 to 2022 represent a minefield of memories that it is difficult to navigate in an attempt to isolate the moments of happiness. Nostalgia as Baz Luhrmann once said "is a way of fishing the past from the disposal, wiping it off, painting over the ugly parts, and recycling it for more than it's worth" - this is what we try to do with our past when we look back and try to use it as a model for how we shape our future, but what happens when the past isn't something you want to return to? - when it was objectively bad with no conceivable way to spin it into something positive, what happens when a cloud doesn't have a silver lining?

In reflecting on the past 7 years of my life since my problems with Sarcoidosis began I've realised that only the last 2 years of that period could have been salvageable, unfortunately that was also a time when my mother was diagnosed with Breast Cancer, she had surgery and radiotherapy to remove the tumour and is now in the middle of a 5 year course of hormone therapy and in a much better place physically and mentally as she continues to make progress with her recovery.

I know the last few years haven't been easy for anyone really, the world is a complex place, one where it seems impossible to escape limitless sources of negativity. At the same time, there seems to be no counter, no endless source of positivity, and a jaded cynicism that immediately leads us to question anything that presents itself as such - the concept of anything being endless seems to be something we reject but if that truly is the case, why are we seduced by the idea of endless negativity? If nothing lasts forever, why does it feel like that is the exception?