Nostalgia can be both painful and a balm when living with chronic illness
When I became ill with ME/CFS, lost my career, my income, my friends and got to meet the paternalistic and demeaning welfare system I viscerally understood the privilege we had (and still do) have.
My debut album will drop on August 29! You can presave it here • I’ve created a playlist on Spotify of Disabled & Chronically Ill Artists. Listen and save it here • My new single is out! It’s called There Are No More Heroes and is a song about the world (and doctors) turning its back on us. Listen and read more here, or listen while you read:
I’m one of those lucky and privileged people who have had an idyllic childhood. I grew up in a commune where people were always around to help, we ate dinners together in a large hall, sang songs before each meal, played in the pillow room after school, and went on annual canoe trips. I was never alone.
When I was six years old we moved to Dar es Salaam, Tanzania. Maybe not so idyllic for my parents, who had to deal with constant electricity cuts, water shortages and corruption, but for me it was paradisiacal.
We lived in a gated Scandinavian community where we could roam free and play tennis or basketball or rollerskate in the large banda. I went to an international school with all the other wealthy kids and I loved the multi-cultural set-up (not so much the entitled kids) and how there was space and resources for our creative pursuits, and the beach was only five minutes from my home — a gated beach for all the rich kids who had money for boats (we bought a small Laser).
As a child I didn’t understand the massive amounts of privilege we had and I didn’t understand the racial or economic issues at stake (I was living in an African country and most of my friends at my elite school were caucasian or Asian, very few were African).
When I became ill with ME/CFS, lost my career, my income, my friends and got to meet the paternalistic and demeaning welfare system I viscerally understood the privilege we had (and still do) have. I also began to understand what it means not to have that privilege (I have too many friends without it) — and how quickly privilege can be taken from you.
I used to live in a bubble where life was kind and nothing bad happened — to me at least. I was invincible and all that bad stuff I saw out in the world would never happen to me.
I’m nostalgic, not just for my idyllic childhood, but for living in the bubble where nothing bad happens. And when lying in bed all day due to illness, that nostalgia sometimes becomes a life-line: At least I had a beautiful life.
Nostalgia is one of the things I seek to convey in my song There Are No More Heroes. You can read more about it here. I didn’t intend to write about nostalgia, but that’s what came out.
It is a double-edged sword in the sense that nostalgia is both pleasant and painful. In my song I speak of how “we would listen to the stars / they told us that we’d live forever / but that was a lie”, but I also speak of a happy childhood: “Remember how we’d be lost in play.” The bubble I was living in was a lie. Something bad did happen and it happened to a lot of us. There is both a pain and a soothing balm in that lie.
I skimmed through a study recently (I do not have the brain power to read it meticulously) that concluded nostalgia can relieve physical pain. I saw another study that suggests nostalgia has health benefits and can promote physical well-being. I wasn’t able to read the part about why this is the case, but I can guess:
Nostalgia can, in some cases, soothe the nervous system and we can ‘live in the past’ for a few moments at a time. We can, in our imagination, live in a better place (depending on our level of privilege).
But I imagine there comes a point when nostalgia becomes painful and addictive, like being stuck in the past. I sometimes find nostalgia painful in that I know what I’m missing out on right now, and I become sad at the thought that life could indeed be wonderful and colourful and lively as it has been before.
Tell me…
Are you nostalgic for the past?
What are you/are you not nostalgic for?
Do you find nostalgia painful or a soothing balm, or both?
I’d love to know your thoughts!
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My new single is out! It’s called There Are No More Heroes and is about the world (and doctors) turning its back on us
When I wrote this song, I was mainly housebound, I hadn’t met any doctors who would listen or understand, I had felt ostracised from my present (able-bodied) community, nobody outside fought for my patient group, we were neglected and forgotten. There are no more heroes, but we’ll do just fine on our own, I thought.
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I’ll have to sit with this one a bit more. As I’m not sure I’m particularly nostalgic from the past.
I didn’t have an ideal childhood. I lived In fear and terror. It was a shock to connect to the privilege I had given this was the case (roof over our head, food on the table, education to college, both parents together etc). I felt unloved, uncared for and neglected growing up.
I’ve learned through healing that it was my emotional needs that were neglected. Not having my emotional needs met is the one thing that’s caused the most catastrophe on my life - mental illness, severe illness, burnout, breakdown and eventual disability by it all.
In 8 years of therapy (mostly hands on/trauma healing) and deep inner work/full integration, I’ve healed all of it. Not just this lifetime, but past and also full ancestral line.
I look back on my life and connect to all the lovely memories. I feel safe now in a way I didn’t before. I feel loved (in a fully embodied sense), cared for, nurtured, nourished - every single day. I learned to do this for myself.
It’s the polarity I’m becoming more intrigued in. As to how dark and light coexist together. I loved the freedom of my adulthood (I was too numbed out to realise I wasn’t really feeling free in myself). I partied every weekend. Had a great time with all my friend. Lots of privilege.
I was also severely ill, I just didn’t tell anyone (beyond what I thought you were supposed to do). I was suicidal twice in my life. I didn’t care of myself. I hadn’t learned how.
I’ve found nostalgia a double-edged sword… it has often been painful to remember more bodily freedom. But recently I woke from a dream of swimming and realised that I have many beautiful memories stored and if I can revisit them without envy they are so much more real. I pair that with leaning into and actively seeking what joys are available now because I’m aware that now might one day be the past I’m nostalgic for in the future.