Escaping Into the Past, Grieving the Present: A Reflection on Nostalgia, Music, and the World We Leave Behind

I spent today immersed in pure, unfiltered escapism. The kind that allows you to vanish into a world of your own making—mine was a day of collage and storytelling, crafting fairytale-inspired narrative therapy cards, layering textures, colors, and meaning onto paper. It was a world away from the news, from the gnawing sense of helplessness that lingers in the air these days.

As I worked, I put on a playlist—something outside my usual rotation—a selection of Britpop classics. The music of my younger self, a self just stepping into the world, back when optimism felt like a natural state of being. I remember that era: a newly elected Labour government, a sense of momentum, the belief that maybe—just maybe—things could only get better.

And then a song came on. One of those songs. The kind that used to make me wistful, caught up in some grand, youthful yearning for love or meaning. I was thrown back into that past feeling, but with it came something else—a gut-punching sadness for the young adults of today.

Because what do they feel when they listen to music now?

What does nostalgia even look like for a generation who have grown up with wildfires, food banks, rising fascism, a housing crisis, climate collapse, and the ever-present hum of doom?

When I was their age, I had the privilege of naivety. Yes, the world had its shadows, but they felt distant. My optimism was intact. Now, I look at my children, at young people today, and I wonder: What hope do they have? What escapism is left for them? And how do we protect their mental health when reality is so much heavier than it was for us?

A Generation Raised on Too Much Knowledge

There’s a paradox at play: we live in an age of both mass ignorance and overwhelming knowledge.

• A world where misinformation spreads like wildfire, yet every brutal truth is available at the swipe of a screen.
• A time when young people are burdened with an awareness of catastrophe we never had at their age, but also left powerless to change it.

And yet, amid this, something else is rising: a new way of thinking.

Because this generation is also the most neurodivergent we’ve ever seen. Not because neurodivergence is "new," but because it’s finally being recognized, understood, and even embraced. More and more young people are identifying as autistic, ADHD, dyslexic, or otherwise wired differently—thinking in spirals instead of straight lines, finding new solutions where old systems fail.

Could Neurodivergence Be the Key to a Different Future?

This is where my hope sparks, however fragile it may be.

Yes, the world is in crisis. Yes, I grieve what I am handing over to them. But I also have to believe that their radically different ways of thinking might be the thing that leads us out of this.

Because the truth is, neurotypical thinking got us into this mess—the rigid structures, the capitalist obsession with efficiency over humanity, the belief that there is only one “correct” way to succeed. Maybe the minds that don’t work that way—the ones that think sideways, outside the box, in color instead of grey—are exactly what we need.

Of course, not all neurodivergence leads to world-saving innovation. (Elon Musk, for example, disturbs me more than Trump. And that’s saying something.) But somewhere, in this generation, I believe there are minds forming ideas we haven’t yet imagined.

And that has to mean something.

Holding Space for Both Grief and Hope

So I sit here, feeling both heartbroken and stubbornly hopeful.

I grieve for what this generation has lost—the innocence, the lightness, the space to dream freely without the weight of a burning world. But I also refuse to give up on the idea that they might create something extraordinary out of this wreckage.

In the meantime, maybe the best thing we can do for them is to remind them that even in a world on fire, they are allowed joy. They are allowed to escape. They are allowed to hope.

And we will fight to make that hope real.

(Usually I link to one of my printables here, but i honestly can't decide which one is most appropriate - they all are. The whole world is in a mental health emergency right now - among all the other crises - all help is welcome, as far as I'm concerned, and that's one of the reasons I do what I do. With that in mind, have a browse of my shop pages if you're so inclined - but it feels a little trite to have made this post as a plug for something. It really isn't supposed to be that. It's just a sort of lament out into the world, for the world. Thanks for reading, though. ;) xxx)