I want to go back…and do it all over but I can’t go back I know. ~ Eddie Money
I was reading a poll from NBC News the other day. In it, 47% of adults ages 18–29 said that if they had the option, they’d choose to live in the past. Not surprising to me. I’ve noticed a growing fascination with the culture, fashion, and even the tech of the 80s and 90s.
At first glance, it’s easy to laugh it off as a trend they will come and go—vinyl records, bold jewelry, and outfits that looked like a highlighter fought a windbreaker and won. But beneath the neon glow and big hair, I think there’s something more serious going on.
It’s not unusual to romanticize the past. Every generation does it. But this feels different. This feels less like fantasy and more like fatigue.
Not only do we have more information coming at us than ever before, now we’re expected to emotionally process all of it. From the moment we wake up, we’re plugged into a constant stream of global crises, outrage, conspiracies, comparisons, and commentary. And it’s not enough to just read it, we’re expected to have an opinion on it and show genuine concern about it.
To me, that’s the real change from just a few years ago. It’s not just information overload; it’s obligation overload. We’re carrying things we can’t solve, people we don’t know, and situations we were probably better off not knowing about at all. And that’s on top of everything else we carry in life like money worries, family problems and job stress.
Whew!
So when people say they want to go back, maybe it’s not about jelly bracelets or rewinding VHS tapes. Maybe it’s about the space we had before everything started to feel so crowded.
But since most of us are fresh out of plutonium-powered DeLoreans… what can we actually do?
Some suggestions: First, intentionally shrink your world. You don’t need updates from everyone you’ve ever met, followed, or accidentally clicked one time in 2015. Some of you let your circle slip. Family, friends, the people you’d call if you had a flat tire. That’s your tribe. Reach out and reconnect. These are the people who really matter.
Second, choose slower habits. Watch the game or the movie without scrolling. Take a walk without headphones. Sit on the porch. Be bored. Let your mind wander. It’s not about rejecting modern life, it’s about refusing to let modern life run you.
And finally: You’re the coach of your life, so bench yourself. You don’t have to be in every game. Not everything needs your attention, your opinion, or your awareness.
Stepping back isn’t apathy—it’s sanity.
Looking at this poll, I get it…I’m part of the 47%. I’m homesick for the home I once had—or maybe just for how it felt to live in it. I’d love nothing more than to jump on my bike, meet up with friends at McDonald’s, watch MTV, play Atari and talk about girls. But those days are gone.
Great memories—not a place to park.
What I can do is build something better suited for the world I’m in now. Something quieter. Smaller. More connected. And most importantly—something I can actually be allowed to step away from.
