Nostalgia is a Seductive Liar

Last night I watched a short video clip highlighting some of Michael Jordan’s greatest plays (mostly dunks, of course) and it brought back so many childhood memories of watching the Bulls with my Grandpa Ervin (Trucker).

I was young during the Chicago Bulls dynasty. I really only remember the “three-peat”– years ‘96-‘98. My brother and I would go to our Grandpa’s house and eat Prairie Farms ice cream, drink RC Cola and anxiously await grandpa turning it to WGN and seeing those bulls run down the streets of Chicago. If you don’t get goosebumps at the beginning of Sirius by The Alan Parsons Project followed by Ray Clay’s “Aaaaand Now!” our friendship status just declined a little.

My grandpa loved those Bulls, and so did I. I loved when he yelled at Luc “The Foul-Man” Longley and would over annunciate Toni Kokoc’s name. Trucker was possibly one of the most racist men I knew, but boy did he love Dennis Rodman. Still to this day I am appalled by his support for the crazy hair, tattooed man who he insisted the referees picked on. If anyone called Rodman a thug, he corrected them saying he was just “misunderstood.” Scottie Pippen was the real star he’d say, but everyone (and I mean EVERYONE) still loves the one and only Michael Jordan. For some reason I had a crush on Ron Harper, even though Trucker would try to convince me Bill Wennington was a more suitable option for me. (Insert eye roll)

As I reflected on these memories, I had feelings of joy and happiness. But it quickly turned into sadness. I like remembering things of the past, as I’m sure others also do, but I have a hard time knowing how to let go. Sometimes I dwell on the past. While nostalgia for many is a reflection and a time of joy, nostalgia for me usually spirals into depression.

Most of last night I was awake starring at the ceiling thinking about all the times of my childhood I loved and want those feelings (and people) back. I have trouble moving past the memories and moving forward with my life. My emotions are too raw and too intense. Even though nostalgia is mostly optimistic and positive for most, it isn’t for me. I enjoy remembering the times, but I do not enjoy trying to snap-back into the present and not getting caught up in those feelings. It’s really best if I avoid nostalgia altogether.
Sometimes nostalgia can even make me physically ill. I so badly yearn for those feelings of happiness, that it can actually increase my depression.

My dude often asks me what went wrong in my childhood that could have led to my bipolar depression disorder. But you see, the thing is… nothing bad or wrong happened. It was amazing. But now I have to be an adult and live in the real world where things aren’t always so amazing, and I often let it suck me in, because it’s just easier to give up than to try fighting for happiness.

Some days are good days, and some days are bad days. Some days I can’t watch The Price is Right because it reminds me of watching it with my grandmother (during her prime)—when she could tell me down to the exact cent how much an Alberto VO5 Hot Oil Treatment costs. She isn’t quite as sharp these days, and that too depresses me.

So for now, as great as nostalgia may be for others, I just can’t do.

Enjoy it for me!