In college, we get used to an artificial routine — one created by the necessity of surviving each semester. We go to class at a certain time, go to the library at others and squeeze in our friends whenever possible. Eventually, this becomes life, until the sudden change in direction occurring on a vacation or break.
Time comes to a halt. Suddenly you’re in your childhood bedroom, but someone else is standing over your bed. That new person, strange yet familiar, is you. The memories associated with this place, the ones you left in your room, are still there, but they fit awkwardly into the stranger who has returned.
Moving in this space frozen in time is like wading through waist-high quicksand. The dull familiarity of driving down the same streets you’ve seen a million times hangs over your head.
Just as the feeling of being lost starts to creep in, you find yourself in another routine. You find life in limbo, and just as the comfort settles, the weeks catch up to you, and you’re back to college for yet another semester. And suddenly you’ve become an awkward mix of the past and present, and are now on a journey to find a rhythm to fall into once again.
For many, change is the only constant we can rely on, and it feels as though when you’ve finally found your footing, a shift occurs. Our formative years are spent in change — growing taller, trying different sports or moving to different schools. We experience change because it is necessary to test ourselves to move forward.
Yet, there is a reason time feels absent from the places of our youth. Our minds and instincts are averting themselves from becoming too comfortable and too unaware to prepare for another change.
This doesn’t mean there isn’t any pleasure to be found in the past — nostalgia exists as a motivator for change. We reminisce on good times to remind ourselves they do exist and as an incentive to find that place of comfort again. The important detail here, however, is we need to use nostalgia as a boost to our next step.
The risk we run with nostalgia is we may try to clone the joy that once fit into our old routines with new ones. Like a mismatched puzzle piece, it’ll work for a bit, until new pieces arrive and make it meaningless. Focusing too hard on the warmth of the past will leave you cold in the present and ignoring new experiences.
But with problems come solutions, and the best defense against this is an open mind, a readiness to adapt and an appreciation for what currently works for us.
After all, the best way out is forward.
Eventually, our everyday life will fall into a timeless space as well, with growth taking us to new places. This is why our journeys are always aimed at finding a new routine. Our goals are just pathways to new goals because every routine eventually needs to be left behind for one that works for our current moment.
It’s good to embrace the stranger standing where he once belonged; his next step is always the last step of his routine.
Andres Arguello is a UF psychology junior
