A business partner of mine spent a day reconnecting with people he hadn’t seen in 20 or 30 years. I can already hear the alpha-male crowd: “Bro, stop living in the past.” Relax. If reconnecting fills him up, good for him. What the fuck do I care?
But it got me thinking. People aren’t just nostalgic for the “good old days.” They’re nostalgic for the old them. The kid who got hyped about Saturday morning cartoons. The simpler version of themselves.
When I think about the old me? I think about living in a crack house. Freezing my ass off living in an attic through a Dartmouth winter. Having a net worth of maybe negative three hundred thousand bucks. Being immature and figuring it out the hard way.
I’m grateful for that guy.
But I don’t want him back.
The new me is better. Smarter. Stronger. More disciplined. Living better. Married better. Earning better.
If you’re looking back wistfully, make sure it’s for qualities you dropped, not for a downgrade.
Your past self shouldn’t be your peak.
If it is, that’s the problem.
The you now and the you becoming should excite you more than the you who already happened.
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