The Good Old Days (Were Never That Good)

This past weekend, my older brother graduated from college. As I sat in the stands of the University of Michigan’s Big House, watching him and his friends toss their caps into the air, I felt that strange sentimental feeling that tends to sneak up during milestone moments. And somewhere in the middle of it all, I realized—I wasn’t just thinking about his college experience. I was thinking about mine.

I’ve just finished my sophomore year, which doesn’t make me old or wise, but it does make me halfway done. And lately, I’ve been feeling nostalgic in that unsettling way that happens when time starts moving faster than you ever agreed to. Already, I look back on my freshman and sophomore years and I wonder: were those the Good Old Days everyone’s always talking about?

The strange part? They didn’t feel so “great” at the time. Actually, they usually felt overwhelming. Uncomfortable. A little lonely. I had just moved from sunny California to the freezing Midwest, and suddenly everything—from the snow-covered sidewalks to the unfamiliar faces around me—felt like a world I hadn’t quite been invited into. I was constantly anxious about lecture halls that felt too big, clubs I wasn’t sure I belonged in, and exams that kept piling up. But when I look back now, the anxiety fades. What sticks are the tiny, unremarkable moments: car rides with windows down and my hair glued to lip gloss, long conversations sprawled on the floor of friends' bedrooms, barefoot walks home with boots in hand under the streetlights. Maybe that’s what nostalgia does—it paints the past with a rose-colored tint. It doesn’t always tell the truth, but it sure knows how to put on a good show.

So I’ve started to wonder: Are the Good Old Days really as good as we remember them? Or do they only become “good” because we choose to see them that way?

And that’s when the existential dread kind of creeps in. Because if the past always looks perfect and the present always feels uncertain, are we ever really content? Is there even such a thing as “the Good Old Days”? Or are we all just too busy spiraling in the moment to realize we’re already living them?

Perhaps, one day, I’ll look back on right now—this messy, unemployed, figure-it-out-as-you-go season of my 20’s—and think: that was the good stuff. And maybe that’s the whole point. Consider this a little nudge to stop wishing the discomfort away and finally practice the kind of gratitude those wellness gurus are always preaching. To sit with the chaos and pay attention to it—because someday, this moment might be what we miss most.