The Time Capsules We Never Dug Up

We put our past in a box and buried it for “someday.”

There are pieces of my childhood that come back to me in a flash. Ice-cold chocolate milk served up with palm-sized snickerdoodles. Balloon releases, hundreds of balloons floating away from a football field to the sound of cheers. Time capsules, placed carefully in a hole and covered up — to be exhumed at another time.

But we never dug up those time capsules.

I imagine them still sitting there, forgotten, holding childish letters and forgotten glimpses of the past. We put them away so that we would remember. We saved them for later, only we forgot.

Until one day, there’s no one left who remembers where they were buried. Until one day, there’s no one left who remembers what they contained. Until one day, there’s no one left who remembers we were here at all.

I put my feelings into a time capsule.

Buried them. Saved them for later. I scheduled my times to cry and then forgot to cry at all. I kept going with my chin held high, never wanting anyone to see me fall apart. So, I fell apart on the inside. I kept my outward facade strong.

I forgot where I buried the feelings. I forgot that I was meant to feel them. I forgot that buried feelings never truly go away.

Today, I came across an old list of goals. It made me think of time capsules. Some goals I had completed. I’d gone skydiving for the second time, but I never did get that scuba diving certification — opting instead for a yoga teacher training. I bought my house, but I didn’t travel nearly as much as I’d wanted. I remembered writing the list, but I don’t remember saving it.

It put my life into perspective. I could see the progress I had made. I could also see how my goals had evolved beyond the list. I had changed, and some of the goals I once wrote out so carefully were no longer among my priorities. New interests emerged. The life I have now doesn’t look exactly like the one I had imagined.

We need to unearth time capsules.

Not the ones from elementary school — although I’d be fascinated to see them. We need to unearth the emotions we buried, the versions of ourselves that no longer exist, and the past we tried desperately to leave behind. We need to know where we’ve been and how it’s changed us. We need to know who we are to know where we’re going.

For a long time, I was afraid to unearth what I’d buried. I wasn’t ready. I didn’t have the coping skills to look inside that box. It was easier to just keep moving forward.

Until I realized that it wasn’t easier at all. I kept tripping on pieces of my past. Old wounds kept tearing open. Old scars kept coming to light.

There are things we need to do before digging up the past.

We buried it for a reason. We tucked away those emotions because it felt easier than feeling them. Before we excavate those versions of ourselves and the feelings that come with them, we need to prepare.

We need to go to therapy. We need to sit before an impartial therapist and let everything out. All the thoughts and feelings we’ve kept to ourselves. All the pain we tried to make our strength. All our secrets and shame and mistakes. The feeling of not being good enough. The secret fear we aren’t worthy of the love we need. Old trauma and new pain. Old wishes and new hopes.

We need to develop coping skills. We need to learn healthy ways of dealing with what we could not handle before. To learn how to regulate our emotions. To practice feeling our emotions rather than trying to bury them. To recognize our triggers and to look for glimmers.

We need to learn compassion and accountability. We do the work of holding space for all the versions of us that once existed — learning to own our choices but not shame. To extend love but to hold boundaries.

We need to build a strong circle of support. I don’t think I could have faced myself without it. So many of us try to do everything alone, but we need other people. We need to be loved and accepted at our best and brightest, at our worst and lowest. We need to be seen and known — and loved through all of it. It gives us strength.

Time Capsules: Who We Were, Who We Are

I keep coming across old versions of myself. A timeline memory pops up — the time capsule of now. I discover old letters while cleaning out a closet. I find an old list while digging through a drawer. There are pieces of all the past versions of myself scattered around my home.

I’ve excavated my feelings and felt them. I’ve learned to regulate my emotions while being accountable and compassionate. I have a circle of friends who support me. Who’ve seen me at my best and worst and love me. I’ve opened up the past to feel it, to accept it, and to integrate it. I am who I am because of who I was. I’m no longer ashamed of that. I’ve become fiercely protective of that inner child, that rebellious teenager, and that soft-hearted but grit-hardened young woman.

There are pieces of my life that come back to me in a flash. Kisses in the freezing cold high above a city, tendrils of music reaching out to hold me in the dark. The trembling fear of sitting at the edge of the sky and the exhilarating freedom of falling. Time capsules, held carefully in my heart— a place I can visit when I want to remember, a place that doesn’t bring me pain or fear, only joy, and a deep and abiding gratitude.

We need to dig up our feelings — when we’re ready. To exhume time capsules. To be willing to hold ourselves at every age and stage. To hug the inner child and the growing human. To love ourselves despite being perfectly imperfect and feeling the pain of being alive.

Life is short. One day, we might want to remember it all. Someday, we might cherish all the lives we’ve lived. Someday, there will be no one left who remembers we were here.

But it still matters that we were.