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I did this a couple times as a teenage kid...I'm finding that I do it still every now and then.
When I was a kid, one day on my lunch hour at school I walked several blocks to my late grandmother's house, just to kind of look and reminisce. Now my grandmother had passed away three years before, so she obviously couldn't answer the door; a young family was now living there.
Subsequently, my (older) brother and I shared a bedroom. He kept a few of his things in the closet on the top shelf, like an old electric slot car racing set. I'd continuously comb that closet for that set, and other things we had - that had gotten old and since thrown out.
Now, in recent years (I'm in my 50s now), I find myself going back to our old neighborhood time and again, just to feel that old "spark" one more time. Only, the neighborhood has changed; everyone we knew from the old 'hood has since moved away and/or passed away. So obviously there's nothing left. Our old place (childhood home) is still there - in fact, I actually got in to see our old place some years ago (with the offer of a few dead presidents, but well worth it!)
I've briefly discussed this with my therapist. My claim is that I'm "remembering my roots", but am I living too much in the past?
Maybe its too much. I can see going back to the old 'hood once, but seeing the changes wouldn't be fun for me. You might be re-living better times, simpler times. I can see that. But it doesn't seem productive.
I did this a couple times as a teenage kid...I'm finding that I do it still every now and then.
When I was a kid, one day on my lunch hour at school I walked several blocks to my late grandmother's house, just to kind of look and reminisce. Now my grandmother had passed away three years before, so she obviously couldn't answer the door; a young family was now living there.
Subsequently, my (older) brother and I shared a bedroom. He kept a few of his things in the closet on the top shelf, like an old electric slot car racing set. I'd continuously comb that closet for that set, and other things we had - that had gotten old and since thrown out.
Now, in recent years (I'm in my 50s now), I find myself going back to our old neighborhood time and again, just to feel that old "spark" one more time. Only, the neighborhood has changed; everyone we knew from the old 'hood has since moved away and/or passed away. So obviously there's nothing left. Our old place (childhood home) is still there - in fact, I actually got in to see our old place some years ago (with the offer of a few dead presidents, but well worth it!)
I've briefly discussed this with my therapist. My claim is that I'm "remembering my roots", but am I living too much in the past?
I like to drive through neighborhoods I once lived in. I am sad how they have changed and deteriorated. I have good childhood memories and they come back to life when I drive by where I used to live, etc. I don't think it's weird at all. Not all good memories.
Most of my family has passed and I remember the good times. I miss them.
I have no opinion about the rightness or wrongness of it, but a couple of years ago, my siblings and I attended a funeral of a relative of ours, who lived out of state...where most of my relatives live.
On our way back home, we decided to drive by our grandma and grandpa's house, just to see what it looked like, and see the old neighborhood.
It was pretty run down. My siblings commented on how depressing it was. While I didn't necessarily find it depressing, I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt I wouldn't have wanted to go inside to see what it looks like now.
I had too many fond memories of the inside of that house. My grandma's sense of style...the big coat closet where she kept her old clothes and her hats, and where me and my sisters would go in to play dress up. Her interesting nick nacks, Her prize winning flower garden...
I just want to remember how it used to be...I don't need the comparison to how it is now. THAT would be too sad for me.
I did this a couple times as a teenage kid...I'm finding that I do it still every now and then.
When I was a kid, one day on my lunch hour at school I walked several blocks to my late grandmother's house, just to kind of look and reminisce. Now my grandmother had passed away three years before, so she obviously couldn't answer the door; a young family was now living there.
Subsequently, my (older) brother and I shared a bedroom. He kept a few of his things in the closet on the top shelf, like an old electric slot car racing set. I'd continuously comb that closet for that set, and other things we had - that had gotten old and since thrown out.
Now, in recent years (I'm in my 50s now), I find myself going back to our old neighborhood time and again, just to feel that old "spark" one more time. Only, the neighborhood has changed; everyone we knew from the old 'hood has since moved away and/or passed away. So obviously there's nothing left. Our old place (childhood home) is still there - in fact, I actually got in to see our old place some years ago (with the offer of a few dead presidents, but well worth it!)
I've briefly discussed this with my therapist. My claim is that I'm "remembering my roots", but am I living too much in the past?
If it feels good, do it. If it hurts, I'd stop. Since my late wife crossed over, I get happy and painful feelings when visiting some of our old stops. If it hurts, I try to see it as a new and unusual scene and if it feels warm and happy, I enjoy the place with her here (in spirit). Sometimes, I feel a pain when approaching an old hang out but it might turn to joy once I'm there and she is also here (in spirit). So go where it's fun and don't go where it hurts. Long ago I tried to go back to my childhood town and past places and it hurt way too much so I don't go to the past any more than I need to. I'd love to contact some early school friends but I've seen that turn sour before so, I don't do that any more.
I have toured the old neighborhood and still do so, maybe 2 - 3 times a year.
If it's a Saturday, I'll go to my grandmother's old house, as I spent every Saturday night with her (Mmmmmm, I can still smell her cooking!) There were good times and bad times, but in my mindset, the good far outweighs the bad. I was fortunate enough, a few years ago, to visit my childhood home - everything seems so much smaller now! My parents, grandparents, etc. are all gone now, but the love and memories will remain forever. I no longer mourn, for it's not appropriate, and they wouldn't approve nor encourage - they just would want for me to make the best for myself, and be happy!
I have toured the old neighborhood and still do so, maybe 2 - 3 times a year.
If it's a Saturday, I'll go to my grandmother's old house, as I spent every Saturday night with her (Mmmmmm, I can still smell her cooking!) There were good times and bad times, but in my mindset, the good far outweighs the bad. I was fortunate enough, a few years ago, to visit my childhood home - everything seems so much smaller now! My parents, grandparents, etc. are all gone now, but the love and memories will remain forever. I no longer mourn, for it's not appropriate, and they wouldn't approve nor encourage - they just would want for me to make the best for myself, and be happy!
It seems to me that you are doing the right thing for yourself - enjoying some happy memories. If you only go by your old neighborhood 2 or 3 times a year, that hardly constitutes "living too much in the past." Is that what your therapist told you?
I've gone back to places from my past also, although in my case, I found everything so much changed - generally for the worse - that it was too depressing and I didn't go back for any more visits. I'll go back to the "good old days" in my imagination, however. There's nothing wrong with having some cherished memories. I think it would be very sad if a person had no happy memories that they didn't think of from time to time. Maybe you need a new therapist?
I did this a couple times as a teenage kid...I'm finding that I do it still every now and then.
When I was a kid, one day on my lunch hour at school I walked several blocks to my late grandmother's house, just to kind of look and reminisce. Now my grandmother had passed away three years before, so she obviously couldn't answer the door; a young family was now living there.
Subsequently, my (older) brother and I shared a bedroom. He kept a few of his things in the closet on the top shelf, like an old electric slot car racing set. I'd continuously comb that closet for that set, and other things we had - that had gotten old and since thrown out.
Now, in recent years (I'm in my 50s now), I find myself going back to our old neighborhood time and again, just to feel that old "spark" one more time. Only, the neighborhood has changed; everyone we knew from the old 'hood has since moved away and/or passed away. So obviously there's nothing left. Our old place (childhood home) is still there - in fact, I actually got in to see our old place some years ago (with the offer of a few dead presidents, but well worth it!)
I've briefly discussed this with my therapist. My claim is that I'm "remembering my roots", but am I living too much in the past?
You might be a bit but on the other hand I see nothing wrong with reminiscing about cherished good times you can recall from your youth.
Author Thomas Wolfe wrote a book entitled, You Can't Go Home Again about the changing American society of the 1920s/30s. In it he writes, "You can't go back home to your family, back home to your childhood ... back home to a young man's dreams of glory and of fame ... back home to places in the country, back home to the old forms and systems of things which once seemed everlasting but which are changing all the time – back home to the escapes of Time and Memory."
For all too many of us as we age (I'm 70), what we considered and always thought us as home is either no longer there or is unrecognizable. I was raised in the military and live in other countries and many of the states but from the age of six there was always a home on a small island in Southern California we always came home to. The last time I lived in it, and then only for a month, was when I returned from overseas in my own military service at age 23 in 1969. But still it was home. About four or five years later my parents sold the house but I was in another state thanks to Uncle Sam. I was never to move back to that town.
At about age 48 (I was out of the service by then) I happened to be nearby on a business trip so I drove to the island to take a look. The house was virtually unchanged and my mother's prized macadamia tree in the patio was still there and had grown quite a bit. Things looked pretty much as they had when last I saw the island though there were quite a few more houses.
When we married in 1996 (I was 50) my wife wanted to see what I'd always considered home and my home town so down we drove 440 miles from Northern California. I showed her the house and we walked around some then walked to the harbor beach from which I'd both swum and sailed. Beach? What Beach? It had eroded away to almost nothing. So we drove around the island and I was aghast. In some spots where there had been two of the lovely Mediterranean home from the 1940s/50s next door to one another, they had been torn down and in their places was a large, modern, heavily glassed McMansion taking up both of the lots. More than aghast. I was disgusted.
It's been going-on 21 years and I've never returned, nor will I. But what's more important is that I have those 60+ year memories of HOME as it was and as I fondly remember. Clearly, you do too. You and I always will. We don't need to go there unless we really want to because we can see and smell them right from where we are.
I often have non-called for flashes of places in, or near my hometown that gives me pause to wonder why. I wasn't thinking of these places, but they popped in like a flash. (Are the synapses getting jumbled, I wonder?)
I have found going to see them is peculiar because I will never really get the result I'm after.
Everything always looks different. Too manicured, updated, or shabbier, never the same though.
I think the HARDER thing is getting a "homey" feeling in a completely new state, different climate, different type of people etc. Its completely disorienting, tho I find such nice differences and interesting things because a whole different world of people has opened up.
The cozy world of yesteryear where life was simpler, during less complicated times is a temptation, like eating a divine chocolate, to return to a place in our head to nurture ourselves the way family or our grandmother's did. Its probably our own way to remind ourselves something was wonderful and we are breathing in that love and dearness by doing a drive-by at the old familiar places.
It's still a tough fit to go to a place now and expect the same result from 40 years ago.
Getting old is the pits.
Both lingering grief or loss, as well as our desire to hold onto the past are extremely powerful entities. These places from our past have helped "define us," and are not necessarily easily let go of....I honestly believe that our "identity issues" are very much wrapped up with our past; re-visiting our past dwellings and places where we have lived strike me as being a natural way of re-affirming who we are, and what has gone, contributed to our ultimate identities.
I have visited passed places where I have lived, as they validate for me who I was at the time, and the things that transpired during those times that have contributed to making me who I am now....
I think in some ways, letting go is one of the hardest things for many individuals....
Take gentle care.
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