Oops There Goes My Past: How Locking Myself Out Of Tumblr Was *Actually* A Good Thing

Oops There Goes My Past: How Locking Myself Out Of Tumblr Was *Actually* A Good Thing

Cast your minds back to a couple of years ago. A time where too much kohl eyeliner was seen on every teen girl and fringes got bigger and bigger by the second. When charity shop grandad cardigans were a must in every gal’s wardrobe and we spent hours and hours scrolling through tumblr, reposting Arctic Monkeys lyrics and lusting over tumblr boys.

I don’t know about you but Tumblr was the shiz back in the day. You’d keep it secret from your friends so they didn’t see the angsty teen side to you, you’d spend ages trying to find a name that was a) just the right amount of hipster-emotional teen-chic and b) was actually available to use. You’d pass off that everything was fine when you were with people at school but would tactically repost some heartfelt lyrics or images that you knew your friends would see.

Don’t be alarmed you lovely lot – we haven’t suddenly travelled back in time to 2012 – there is a point to this post (she says, not 100% aware whether there is actually a point to this post – oops). If you didn’t guess by the title of this post or you don’t follow me on Twitter (which btw you totally should) then I ran into every 2012 teens problem –

I FORGOT MY TUMBLR ACCOUNT PASSWORD

DUN

DUN

DUNNNNNNNNNNNN

2 years ago I’d have had a breakdown, in fact, I’m pretty sure the same thing did happen before now and I did have a breakdown. But for some reason, this time round, I was okay with it. At first it was simply because it’d been in need of a refresh anyway and it just didn’t feel very me anymore. But then, after tweeting about it as I always do in times like this, I realised the actual reason why I was okay with it.

I’ve mentioned it veeeery briefly before in other blog posts but 2015 was not a good year for dear old Becca over here, and in fact, neither was the end of 2014. And hidden deep in that Tumblr of mine was a password protected second blog that played home to my deepest and darkest thoughts, like this was intense. There were things in that that only 1 or 2 people knew, some that I vowed never to let out and see the light of day and in general it was hardly the thing that I wanted plastered everywhere.

And that was gone.

Poof.

Long gone with the password to that account.

Adios mi amigo.

As I’ve mentioned here on the blog before, I’m a big sentimental/memory person so this should be something that gets to me. But it didn’t. And that’s huge for me and it certainly didn’t stop me from celebrating not having access to it anymore. It felt like a breath of fresh air and it taught me a lot about myself without even realising it.

Back in my prime of writing in this secret lil space of mine, I relied so much on the past and allowing it to run and dictate everything that I was doing. I used to shut myself away and dwell on what had happened to me in certain situations or with certain people and I became so obsessed with what had happened, was happening and how I thought it’d affect what would happen in the future. You could almost think of it as my entry way to blogging. Granted this was an everyday mess and not the not-quite-everyday/not-quite-as-mess style of blogging I do now but an entry way to this wonderful world nonetheless.

It’s (thankfully) not something I have to use anymore, it hasn’t been for a while (ty bubba  for being fabulous). Yet in my unable to give up on the past hype, I never thought to get rid of it.

WELL THANK THE LORD FOR MY FORGETFUL BRAIN EH?

Oops There Goes My Past: How Locking Myself Out Of Tumblr Was *Actually* A Good Thing

Let’s bring it back to past Becca and the point to this post that she was searching for.

I’m a stickler for the past, good or bad. And letting that go, wether that be accidental or not, would normally be something that would break my heart. Yet it disappeared and I’m fine.

Letting go of the past is a scary thing and it can mean different things to different people. It might mean friendships, hang ups about your self, ex boyfriends – the list goes on. I don’t think I’m alone in saying that we let it get to us a lot more than we probably should. And whether we manifest that in thinking about something everyday, stalking anything and everything to do with someone that used to be in your life or writing about on a secret tumblr blog – there’s a good chance that there’ll be something that we’re desperately clinging on to. More often or not we kid ourselves that we’re okay and over whatever it is but don’t actually stop doing the thing that we’re doing to remember it.

“It’s not the future that you’re afraid of. It’s repeating the past that makes you anxious”

Whether it’s through fear of letting go or not knowing you whether you can actually let go, we let ourselves continue to focus on what once was – and nobody really knows why. But sometimes all it takes is a bit of stupidity and a faulty memory to make you realise that you can survive without whatever it is you were clinging to.

Back when I relied on this Tumblr account I couldn’t imagine it not being a part of my life. I imagined myself constantly reading it and reliving parts of my life, or finding the need to update it again and even now that I don’t need it, I still couldn’t bring myself to delete it – there was still a small part of me that was like ‘nuh uh uh there are things in here you might want even though you know that that’s crap and you don’t need any of it’.

But it’s gone.

I can breathe again. Yes I could still go to the website and read everything on there but what’s the point?

If you’re like me and have/had something that you were still clinging onto then treat it like a password for something and just forget it. Pretend that whatever it is you’re thinking of needs a password and unless you can think of the exact reason why you keep holding onto it (and treat that as your password) then don’t let yourself ‘log in’ and see or think whatever it might be.

Granted I did actually forget my password but hey, I’m fine – if anything I’m better. Something as simple as my own forgetfulness allowed me to do the thing that I’d convinced myself I could never do.

Oops….?