Recovering from Nostalgia Season
The author (top) and her older sister (bottom) as children. Photo courtesy of the author.
CW: mentions of disordered eating and self-harm
At my father’s birthday party a few years ago, I was asked to make a toast to the room. I rambled through a few half-hearted anecdotes about my parents, my older sister, and me, then ended on this: “Thank you for making us feel like kids again whenever we’re home.” It was a successful toast — for everyone, I think, but me.
The fact is, I’d been telling the truth. Every time my sister and I return home, it feels like the clock is rewound ten years. Our parents (and my sister) tell jokes and stories about our childhood, pull out old pictures, and jump at any chance to show how little we’ve all changed. “We’re still the same people,” they seem to be saying. “We can go back to this time whenever we want.”
For me, that notion is all kinds of problematic.
I grew up struggling with major depression and anxiety, conditions I didn’t start treating until the age of 18, when I first left home. Nearly all my childhood memories, however, feature my anxiety and depression symptoms — some my family knew about, and others they didn’t. Sometimes, my depression even makes it into our nostalgically-told stories: “Remember the dinner where you refused to speak to anyone?”
“Whether you’re reliving unpleasant memories or bristling at a warped version of events, nostalgia can be hard for many, many reasons. ”
Invariably, my memories differ from my family’s version of events. But most importantly, I can’t imagine going back to how I felt 10 years ago. While they remember a cozy, happy family with a grumpy younger sister, I remember hiding in the bathroom and trying to purge after family dinners. I remember writing long lists of how I needed to change, and hurting myself when I couldn’t get there. I remember sadness that settled in like a weight around my chest, and the shame of being told I’d ruined another dinner, another trip, because I couldn’t look happy.
“You know,” my sister told me on a family vacation years ago, “the entire night depends on your mood.”
But my moods felt like hurricanes, and left me cowering each time they returned. I knew I could never trick my family entirely, and anyway, the bad feeling was all I could think about. How was I supposed to keep it off my face?
Years of therapy, medication, and learning about my mental health later, I’m worlds away from the angry 12-year-old who couldn’t put on a smile for her family. It’s been a long road getting my family to accept my mental health struggles, and it’s not something we ever really discuss — just a reality we all acknowledge from a distance.
As a result, it’s been difficult to set a boundary with my family when it comes to their nostalgic tendencies, which of course get stronger than ever around the holidays. It’s often not possible to request that topics like this be avoided while still keeping the peace around the family dinner table, so I set out to cultivate some calming strategies of my own with the help of my therapist — and I’m hoping the tips and tricks I learned might be helpful to you too.
Whether you’re reliving unpleasant memories or bristling at a warped version of events, nostalgia can be hard for many, many reasons. I know I’m not alone in finding nostalgia tricky, and I wanted to share the strategies that worked best for me this holiday season. Here’s what helped the most — good luck, my forward-thinking friends.
Treat nostalgic stories like fiction.
My therapist encouraged me to separate my family’s story-telling from my own memories, and instead treat their stories like they’re pleasant pieces of fiction. In the end, these stories have no effect on what my experience was. This way, I can even be happy for my family, because these stories make them happy.
Step away when you need to.
This is a simple one, but can feel easy to forget in the thick of a family gathering, where it seems like every two-second disappearance is noted by four or five aunts. It’s not the end of the world if they notice! Don’t let it stop you from taking a minute for yourself whenever you feel like you’re getting overwhelmed. It’s much, much more worth it to endure a few rounds of “where were you” than to say something you regret in the moment.
Have a few prepared responses.
These can be very simple: “Yes, I do remember that. How sweet. How old were we?” But having them prepared, even actively written down, can be a huge help. If you’re not engaging with the conversation at all, that can draw unwanted attention — so having innocuous comments at the ready helps you be engaged while keeping the interaction on a surface level.
Do a quick breathing exercise.
Even if I could only escape for a bathroom run, I found breathing exercises immensely helpful in reminding myself that while I may not be able to control what others say, I do have control over my reactions (no one provokes you like family!). Even just three deep breaths can help — I like breathing in for six counts, holding for six counts, and breathing out for six counts. A quick breathing exercise can slow your heart rate, calm the nervous chatter in your head, and remind you who’s really holding the reins!
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Louisa Ballhaus is a staff entertainment writer for SheKnows, and previously wrote for Bustle, Betches, and Merry Jane. Follow her on Twitter and Instagram @louisabhaus.
