The Responsibility of Remembrance

For better or worse, I am not the same person I have been before. Not yesterday, not months ago, not decades. I question whether true change is the elimination of all previous versions of myself, or rather an evolution of what was already there. You can always look back and find a definitive measure that indicates something has changed, but is it necessarily gone?

I view my sense of self as a nesting doll. Rather than shedding my previous state, I hoard it. I fear that if I were to abandon layers of who I am at any given point, I might lose who I could be. This is a burden I choose for myself knowing the inescapable grief that comes with being a witness to your existence.

Sometimes I feel apologetic for the people who knew me before I knew myself.

I would never erase the person I was when I didn’t understand myself. In fact, I would be a liar if I said I didn’t miss the versions of myself I would never return to. Perhaps nostalgia isn't simply longing for the life we had, but a yearning for the person we were while we were living it.

I have to believe that change is defined by the choice to allow yourself to move forward knowing you don’t stop loving the people you've been.