N is For Nostalgia

 

As we delve into defining synonyms, phrases, and ideas that resonate with the #Unshakable state of mind, we’ve been exploring the letters of the alphabet. Over the weeks, sometimes we have gathered a few stories and sometimes focused on a single letter with deeper sentiment. Today, N is for Nostalgia. Stay with me…

 

Now in my late(ish) 40s, I’ve watched a couple of my childhood friends lose (a) parent(s) over the past few years, an inevitable part of life. This has occupied a significant space in my subconscious, perhaps explaining why I dreamt in flashbacks last night. I was transported back to a time when the world felt simple, and my parents were my heroes.

Growing up, I viewed my parents through a lens of unfiltered admiration, a perspective that largely remains true. My mother, with her resourceful hands, could create magic in the kitchen, turning ordinary ingredients into meals that felt like warm hugs. She remains as saintly as they come. My father, a walking dictionary, was primarily on school-run duty—each trip was an educational experience of its own.

 

However, that lens began to crack as I transitioned from childhood to adolescence. I started to notice their small imperfections, all stemming from the inherent flaws of being human. They were not the flawless figures I had idolised; they were real, complex beings.

During those tumultuous teenage years, and even into adulthood, I often felt resentment bubble up. How could they not see the world through my eyes? Why couldn’t they understand my struggles? My heart hardened against their imperfections, and I mistakenly believed love was conditional, tied to perfection. I longed for them to be the parents I had imagined, but life had other plans.

 

As I grew older and became a parent myself, I found myself in their shoes. The sleepless nights with a crying baby, the blank stares while trying to navigate teenage dramas, the moments of frustration when nothing seemed to go right—they were all too familiar. I realised that I wasn’t perfect, either. I stumbled through parenting just as my parents had stumbled through theirs, sometimes making choices that, in hindsight, I wished I could change.

It was in (adultier) adulthood that I began to see my parents in a new light. They had loved me fiercely or the best way they knew how, even when they faltered. The grace they extended to me, the forgiveness for my teenage rebellion and even as an imperfect adult who is still their child, was the same grace I hoped my children would one day show me. And therefore, I should show them back as a matter of course. This realisation washed over me like a wave of hope: love is not about perfection; it’s about the messy, beautiful journey of growth and understanding. Ultimately, it is the acceptance of imperfection that defines our connections. As I am sure my parents did, I hope that when my children happen upon nostalgic moments such as the ones that have recently plagued my psyche, they will look upon me with nothing but unconditional love, despite a few SMH moments naturally (oops).

 

Now, as I watch my own children transition into adulthood, I recognise the cyclical nature of life. I embrace my imperfections and those of my parents, understanding that their love was a guiding light through the chaos. Nostalgia swells within me, not just for the idyllic days of my childhood but for the lessons learned through the trials of family life.

The point is this – we are all works in progress, and love, in its truest form, thrives amidst our flaws. As the sun sets in all its wintery glory, I find myself wrapped in the comfort of memories, inviting and even invoking the flashbacks that will visit me in dreams. I embrace the beauty of nostalgia—imperfect, yet profoundly clear in its definition of love. Take this with you this week – love is unconditional and #unshakable. Love boomerangs.

 

What feelings have I stirred within you?

 

‘See you’ next week!

 

 

Sally Chiwuzie
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IG Handle: @unshakable.is.a.state.of.mind