An Uninvited Memory

Have you ever been driving down the road, standing in the kitchen, folding laundry, or sitting at a stoplight waiting for the light to change when something suddenly grabs your attention?  You look over and see a little child run into the arms of someone who is absolutely delighted to see them, and suddenly, you want to cry.

Nothing happened to you in that moment. And yet, something happened inside you.

Maybe it is the way the child is scooped up without hesitation. The way someone’s face lights up simply because they are there. The way the child knows, without having to wonder, I am wanted here.

And something inside you whispers, I wanted that.

Or maybe, I needed that.

Maybe later, you look in the mirror and the tears come again. Suddenly, you are aware of something you have been carrying for a very long time. Some invisible grief you long ago tucked away.

Maybe the tears hold the sadness of knowing something has always been missing.

Maybe they carry regrets, mistakes, choices, and all the “should haves,” “I wishes,” and “if onlys.”

Sometimes what surfaces in an ordinary moment has very little to do with today. It can carry pieces of all our yesterdays, too.

This is what I mean by the ghosts of the past.

Not literal ghosts, of course. I am talking about the memories, heart wounds, unmet needs, beliefs, and old stories that can stay with us long after the experience itself is over.

We may have left the relationship, the job, the childhood, the dream, or “that” season of life behind, but some part of it may still be living within us.

The past has a way of showing up when we least expect it.

It can surface in a thousand different ways. It might live in how we love, how we withhold love, how quickly we push love away, how we trust, how we ignore our own needs, and how we respond when someone disappoints us.

It can show up as perfectionism, people-pleasing, over-functioning, over-achieving, or the exhausting need to get everything “right.”

The ghosts of the past can be found in the things we miss because they ended or in the things we carry because they never happened. Maybe they are found in both.

The childhood we wished had been different.

The relationship that never became what we hoped.

The words we needed but never heard.

The walls we built because getting too close felt too dangerous.

The dreams we set aside because dreaming felt too scary.

The version of ourselves we became because being authentic felt too risky.

The love we gave but never received.

We tell ourselves it was a long time ago. We tell ourselves we should be grateful for what we did have.

And so, we keep going.

We become remarkably good at carrying our history. We tuck things away, keep moving, care for everyone else, fake a smile, and tell ourselves we are fine.

Until one day, we aren’t.

Perhaps on that day, we can simply begin by telling the truth:

This happened.

It hurt.

I needed something different.

And I am allowed to acknowledge and grieve it.

An Uninvited Memory

You are cleaning the house, listening to your favorite radio station, when a song comes on that you’ve heard a hundred times. But today, something about it lands differently.

Suddenly, you are transported to another time—a childhood bedroom, a classroom, a relationship, a person, a choice made, a choice not made, or perhaps a version of yourself you haven’t thought about in years. Maybe you remember the moment you knew your life had changed forever.

Your eyes fill with tears.

You may even wonder, Why am I crying about this now?

Because our hearts hold things long after our minds have decided we should be “over it.”

Perhaps you are finally recognizing what you needed then and now.

Perhaps you are ready to make peace with what was, acknowledge what is, and become curious about what might still be.

Perhaps you sense the need to offer compassion to the younger version of yourself who learned to be strong when she really needed to be held.

Maybe the memory appeared because a part of you still needs to be held and nurtured. And, the tears? Maybe they are an invitation to see parts or your story with a little more tenderness.  

And sometimes, acknowledging and honoring what we needed (and still need) changes how we see the woman (or man) standing in the mirror today.

The ghosts of our past may have shaped parts of our story. They may offer hindsight or help us understand the person we became along the way.

AND, they do not get to write the ending.

Sometimes, remembering is simply part of becoming. Maybe becoming isn’t about erasing the past or becoming someone entirely new. Maybe it is about making room for the parts of yourself that have been waiting to be seen, heard, nurtured, and known.

Maybe it is about realizing that the little girl (or little boy) who once needed something different is still a part of the woman (or man) you are today.

She doesn’t need you to fix the past. Maybe she simply needs you to notice her.

To listen. To hold her story with love.

To say: I see you. I know now. It mattered.

And perhaps this is where something begins to shift.

Not because the past has changed. Not because the ghosts disappear.

But because you are no longer turning away from yourself.

So, if an uninvited memory finds you today, pause for a moment.

Take a breath.

Notice what it brings with it.

You don’t have to solve it. You don’t have to explain it away.

You might simply ask:

What is this moment asking me to notice?

And then, offer yourself the same kindness you would offer someone sitting across from you at your kitchen table.

Because you have carried enough. 

You are enough.

And the woman you are becoming?

She is not someone you have to find.

She is someone you are learning to come home to.

Welcome home.

An invitation:  Look in the mirror and whisper, “I am so glad you are here.”  

Raised, But Not Really Retreat™

April 8–11, 2027

Bask Retreat Center | Centerville, Tennessee

Come gather with us in April 2027. I will be joined by Maryann B. Russell and Cindy Bowen Wunch at Bask Retreat Center in Centerville, Tennessee, for the first Raised, But Not Really™ Retreat. It will be a weekend to share your story and honor that something was missing. Because what was missing and perhaps the ghosts of your past deserve to be known and nurtured. This is invisible grief carried. It mattered then, and it still matters. 

This retreat might be for you if:

You have spent years taking care of everyone else, being needless and wantless, figuring things out, rarely asking for help, feeling lonely and exhausted, pushing forward, and quietly wondering why something still feels like it is missing. We see you!

If something speaks to a place inside you that has been waiting to be seen, known, heard, and celebrated, perhaps this retreat is for you.

I would love for you to learn more. 

Details are coming soon: Raised But Not Really – Pam Monjar