Thoughts when the third eye opens

I’ve been thinking a lot about the past lately. I’m not quite sure if it’s the sentimental lingerings of the passing Cancer season, or just the emotional turmoil of the upcoming eclipse/new moon in Aquarius, but something about me keeps looking back to “the good ol’ days”.

It’s often times like these, where big, life-altering changes loom in the distance that my subconscious needs to take the reins for a bit. It’s almost as if it’s trying to protect me from what’s coming (uncertainty, fear, anxiety, etc.–you know the drill) and, instead, is leading me down an even darker path towards a full-on emotional breakdown. As someone who has lived with depression since high school, I’ve become all-too familiar with my triggers and, lemme tell you, nostalgia is one of them. Perhaps its my Cancer rising or my Pisces moon, but all I know is that thinking about the past makes me even more resentful of the future.

But that’s not how it should be, is it? Yes, the past was fabulous and fantastic and all of my favourite things packed into one, but aren’t those adjectives based on my subjective recollection? How come, when I think about where I used to be, I don’t conjure up images of the year and a half feud Nina and I had? How come I gloss over the eating disorder I struggled with for 4 years? Why do I fail to remember my struggles with friends for half a decade? When I remember the awesome trip I took to Germany after graduation, it’s only images of site-seeing in Berlin, eating pretzels on the train, and bike rides at night the flood my mind. It isn’t the awkward goodbye at the airport upon my departure, where, after weeks of passive-aggressive behaviour, my friend and I realized we maybe weren’t as close as we thought. Nor when I recall my grade 10 year, where memories of falling in love, experiencing high school, and new friends are the only still-frames I can see. Where are the memories of having my heart broken? Fighting with best friends? Feeling painfully insecure?

You see, our memory holds beautiful, heart-shaped but awfully rose-coloured glasses over our mind’s eye. My mum calls it “selective memory” and for years I resented the term, but now I can’t seem to stop agreeing with it. We remember what we want, and toss away what doesn’t serve us. Now this might be all and well for most, but for me, it’s detrimental. The past calls to me, makes me long for something I literally cannot have and that tears me apart. But I don’t want the past. Not really, not the real, literal past that I lived. I only long for the good parts, and if we take that apart and dissect it, then what comes into light is a facade. This is not real. This is not the truth I lived, the life I had, the experiences I went through. These are bits and pieces, like cutting up a magazine to make a collage that only shows what you want to see. It’s not real.

The only truth is the truth I am living now, and the truth I want to live in the future. I can’t control the past, despite what my memory leads me to believe, but I can control how I feel and act in the months and years to come. Yes, my past was great and amazing, and those moments of pure joy will always be true. But longing for something that cannot be serves no one. I don’t have time-travelling abilities, and, quite frankly, if I did, I definitely wouldn’t be going back to visit 15-year-old Jasmine because I’d be too busy having a café latte with Audrey and Freddie in Paris right about now. But I do have the ability to shape what’s ahead of me, and so that’s what I’m going to do. Full force, right into Leo season and beyond.

Stay beautiful, friends.

Jasmine.

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