When folks talk about wanting to be who they were, I can’t help but to think about my days spent in senior homes. Around people who have dementia and Alzheimer’s. Around my own grandmother who is currently in the throes of early-stage Alzheimer’s.
Understand that we can never be who were were, because to truly understand, we would see that the only reason we understand is because we do so in hindsight. There is a caveat to returning to who we once were: we will repeat the same mistakes because we will be emulating the same lack of knowledge of the outcome. We cry or experience sadness when we see a person experiencing dementia or Alzheimer’s, and are uncertain if they wish to remain as so because they, like we would be, are incapable of being certain of its potential to happen again or the severity of the next episode. What happens if we never return?
Most of what we end up rejecting, in my opinion, is a state of Being. In the moment of rejection, we cannot fathom the knowledge we will receive because we have not asked the appropriate questions. What happened? Why? What series of events lead to this? What is it about now that is different than before? We are so quick to say we don’t know, to believe that it would have been better had something been different, but the truth is as nuanced as the potentiality we face when critically analyzing what happened.
This is why we hug, cry, verbally communicate, fight: we validate our current state of existence. It is not wrong to desire a return to a point of ignorance, it’s why the saying says it’s blissful, but something to always consider is: if you do truly wish to change something, to go back and make a different decision, what does that tell you about life as you know it now?