I lost all my contacts. My number has changed, multiple times. I am being encouraged to build upon a false narrative. A false past. A clean slate, a story that is "permissible" to move forward. With those who are less than trustworthy or truthful. No questions are allowed. I did not willingly sign up for this. My current strategy is to survive.
The New Year is generally a time for reflection, where we think about our lives in years past and, inevitably, the people in them. Today, we are privileged in that reconnecting with those acquaintances, childhood classmates, or former colleagues after years is not only possible, but, thanks to living in the digital age, easy to do. While reaching out to old friends can lead to genuine, meaningful renewal, sometimes, a "blast from the past" can also provoke discomfort, confusion, or emotional fatigue instead.
When Ally and I first met, she was 25 and fresh out of uni, and I was 47 and recently separated from my wife. I walked into work every day and saw this beautiful young woman with long dark hair and the most fantastic smile. Eventually I did the cheesy thing and wrote her a note telling her how I felt. I didn't expect to hear from her.
My sister and I have always been close in the kind of way that only siblings with a two-year age gap can be. We grew up sharing everything from wardrobes to the same old hand-me-down phone. As adults, though, life has pulled us in different directions. She's 33 now, I'm 31, and somehow, we spent most of our twenties living in different countries.
When we talked, it wasn't just about jobs or kids or where life had taken us. It was also about remembering who we used to be - those fearless, awkward, hopeful kids who thought the world was ahead of them. There's something grounding about being seen like that again, by the people who knew your firsts and loved you just as you were.
