Childhood Nostalgia

When you're growing up, it's easy to think that you're the only one in the world going through what you're going through (and even as adults, now that I think about it), that you're the only one in so much pain, and that no one could ever possibly understand you. And because you think this way, everything and everyone is such...a huge..deal. It's only until you start getting out there in the world and seeing different things, different people, different families, that makes you begin to realize that you're not so alone...that maybe someone will be able to understand you, and that some people have it even worse than you do. I don't know about everyone else, but this is how the process went for me.

In the past three or four years I've held onto only the pain of my childhood, remembering only the things that hurt me or the people/situations from whom or where I picked up all of my bad habits and dysfunctional thinking. Besides a few different occasions, I've never really chosen to remember all of the good things that happened to me or the fun things and events I was a part of growing up. Being with this particular family in Italy has shown a light on how much better my childhood was than I have remembered it to be, because I see so much of my own past-family-life in this one.

When I first arrived, I realized almost immediately some of the same patterns I experienced as a little girl (some of them being not so great) and I was overly sensitive in seeing them take place. I would internally react in a negative way when I felt Cecilia was being wronged: when I felt she was being treated unfairly, when I felt like her parents would overreact to some small, insignificant, rebellious action, or when I felt she wasn't being accepted by her own parents. It was an intense emotion, feeling useless and angry and sad whenever one of these "events" popped up. I felt like I had to defend her, not in front of them, but afterwards when I went to comfort her, to try and make her know that she was loved. And then I realized that I reacted so intensely because I was projecting who I was as a little girl on her: the one who never felt accepted, the one who never felt she could do anything right, the one who never felt loved.

The funny thing is, after I processed, acknowledged and released this feeling of injustice and grief, the projections stopped, the intensity subsided, and I could finally see her as her own person...someone who is on this particular life path for a reason and will become who she is meant to become, just like I am, just like everyone is. She might in fact feel some of the same things I felt growing up, but we are not the same person, and I know that now.

One of the fun things I remember thanks to this family is whistling. Giacomo, the father of Cecilia, whistles (very well, I might add) while he cuts fruit, hangs up laundry, cleans a room, etc. and I feel at home when I hear him whistle. One of the most vivid memories I have is of my dad constantly whistling, and remembering how much I loved it, how much it was a part of my life, and how it made me feel like everything was okay. It was a comforting sound for me growing up, and apparently it still is; I smile every time!

Another similarity is that Giacomo likes to be neat, just like my dad. He will spend a few hours whenever he's home, attentively scrubbing the kitchen counters and other things of this nature, and it makes me chuckle to myself. Almost every guy I know in my life besides these two live like slobs, not giving a damn if their rooms are messy, if their bathrooms have crap caked on the edge of the sink, or if the dishes are piled up like a mountain. I'm not saying that orderly men don't exist, but for now these are the two men I know personally that value a clean home enough to do some work on it themselves. I can't remember a time when my dad's house was a mess for longer than an hour or so, actually. Funny how this is one of the habits I didn't pick up from him growing up ;) I chose to learn that one the hard way much later.

The fact that this family gets together often with their friends and family makes me remember how much my family did when we were younger. Growing up, we were almost always with our cousins, aunt and uncles, grandparents, friends of the family, etc. and we would play fun games and spend our traditional vacation to Indian Cove together. Not to say that we never fought, because believe me, I was the cause of a lot of them back then, but for the most part we got along famously. Even though now we all have our own lives and are not very close anymore, there are some moments and places I will never forget and that will forever have a special place in my heart.

I've also noticed that some of the names I call Cecilia are the exact names my dad used to call my sisters and I as kids. They come out naturally, as if I had transported myself back in time and heard them all over again. Some of these names consist of: bugnut, bugaloo, silly goober, little stinker, etc. I haven't been called these names in ages, and I've never called anyone but her these names, and it made me wonder why. And then it hit me that since I have such a strong bond with this girl, I see her as I would my own daughter, therefore taking on the role of a parent or guardian.

I've heard it said that we recreate our childhoods, but I've never truly understood it until now. This knowledge has always scared me in the past, because I've never wanted to recreate the childhood I had if I were to ever choose to have my own family. But now I'm not so scared. It seems as if I’ve recreated it without having done the work of raising a family myself, and this is the part that I find the most interesting: it doesn’t negatively affect me anymore. After staying with this Italian family, I realize how much they have helped shift my perspective. The best example I can give to explain this is that Giacomo is almost exactly like my father; he is stubborn, short-tempered and impatient, and at first this was all I saw in him, just like this was all that I saw in my father. Now I can see that while he is indeed all of these things, he is also good-hearted, playful and honest, just like mine. He knows how to entertain and keep a conversation going, just like mine. He does the best he can with what he is given, and loves his daughter the way he knows how to love, just like mine.  

I’m no longer triggered in the same way when I see or experience an injustice from my childhood, which is how I know that I’ve undergone a major healing. I’ve become quite attached to this family, not only because I feel at home with them, but because they have been essential to my growth as a human being. They have unknowingly showed me what I needed to work on, and now thanks to them, I have a new perspective on my life as a child. These days, not everything is such a huge deal, and in fact, my life flows better than it ever has before. There will probably be more layers of my childhood to peel back and process in the future, but right now I am in a beautiful place. Now I can look back nostalgically and say, “yeah, those were some good times.”

                         My favorite little Italian girl...the one who's made this whole thing possible :)