remembering

“One day, in retrospect, the years of struggle will strike you as the most beautiful.”

― Sigmund Freud

Time has a funny way of softening the edges of memory; of creating nostalgia out of seemingly ordinary moments. At least this is what I have found to be true in my 24 (almost 25) years of existence.

This thought rings especially true in regard to my high school experience. As to be expected, there are a lot of little things I have long forgotten about my teenage years: locker combinations, who I sat next to in which class, where I placed in my first 5K.

But other memories will sharply appear without notice: the way my taffeta and velour choir dress felt against my skin, numb legs while racing the 400 in the rain, the way my heart always fluttered when my crush smiled at me.

The majority of these memories evoke positive - if not nostalgic - emotions. But when I read old journals from the same era, I am reminded of the less-than-joyful moments: the four months of depression and low self esteem after a nasty break-up, the frustration of running my fastest times as a sophomore, the helplessness and fear I felt  after my brother became sick.

It's funny how the mind is selective when it comes to memories. It is as if an editor sits in the grooves of our brain, deciding which stories will go on the front page and which will be buried on E6 next to the Classified's.

If our mind’s ability to process those memories helps us adapt to the present, then there must be a reason why some moments in our past have a stronger afterglow than others.

Perhaps this is why, as Freud said, "... in retrospect, the years of struggle will strike you as the most beautiful." In my own experience, time does not erase pain, but it does put it into perspective. Suffering shapes us - refines us - in ways that thriving simply cannot.

All of the painful experiences that I expressed in my journal as a teenager were just as formative as the joyful ones. Maybe that knowledge is how - over time - beauty seeps into those memories.