Man’s obsession with history

PS:- When I say men in this article, I mean people

All of us love history, at least a little (unless you are still in school and are reading it in textbooks). There are some men who love it more than others. They will read an occasional book or two on interesting events, or watch an occasional documentary to go back in time. They are in awe of the intricate cave painting done by humans 50,000 years ago, or of the first republic that established by the Romans. Yet, there are some men who are incessantly obsessed about history. They know the history of the world. They read about it, think about it, discuss it, ask questions on things that don’t make sense, and thus go back and read, think, discuss more to find these answers. You know who they are. You have met them.

For the longest time, I could not understand why these men are so obsessed with history and historical figures. Could it be a general need to know it all? But then some of them don’t pay attention to the current affairs of the world at all. Like if it isn’t old, it isn’t interesting. Could it be the need to understand the differences in the world today, or reminiscence happier times when the power equations were reversed? But I have seen men from all over the world, and from all social classes with a similar obsession.

Could it then simply be the need to be remembered? Do these men dig into the archives to find names that stand out, because these names are their true heros, remembered over decades, centuries and millennia? Is the act of historical obsession another form of hero worship? Would that then explain men who value power being obsessed with politics? Or some who value money being obsessed with the biographies of billionaires? Might also explain women who value beauty being obsessed with the lifestyles of celebrities.
Seems simplistic, yet entirely plausible.

Only way to get over things is to realize that there is nothing to get over

"He died because of me... I did not say a proper farewell the last time I met him. I ran away to catch my train... without a backward glance. I knew he was sick, but I thought that he will recover. I thought we will speak at length the next time. When he was feeling better. When I had more time. He passed away before I returned. I should have stayed on and fought with him."
For 9 years, she believed he died because of her. Because if she was there she could have done something differently. She would have supported him. Helped somehow. Given a pound of flesh to keep him alive. It was her fault. She left. She could never forgive herself for that. She was someone you could not trust. She was someone who would run away from problems. Always.

Our worst traumas, our emotional disturbances, and the low points in our lives often have nothing to do with the root cause of the problem. Don't be indignant. It is traumatic to lose loved ones, to live through broken relationships and promises, to fail at something that means a lot. The reality of it is cruel. However, the reality is a fact. A word. An incident. A span of time. It happens. It is life.
In our minds though, it is a failing - a failing of the self that we construct carefully for ourselves, a failing of the false feeling of control that we have on our lives, a failing of us as the most important celebrities on our own planet, or on someone else's. We feel we failed, and we feel that the failure is significant. Something to get over. Something to fight. Something to fuss over constantly, in a bid to forget.

Have we really failed though? Have we? What is failure? If trying to achieve something new, and not being able to is failure - we did in fact fail. If fighting against all odds to get what you want is failure - we indeed did fail miserably. The truth however, is that there is no failure. It is our game. We created it in our mind. We played it and we didn't win based on our own rules. And then we never forgave ourselves for losing.

Did she create a game to fight for his life? Yes. Did her game mean that she had to be there by his side "fighting" with him till the end? Yes. And she did not do that. Simple. Could she have played another game? Yes. Could she have changed the outcome of his death? No. Would her guilt bring him back? No. Does her failing at her game mean that she is a failure in "life"? No. Does it mean she cant be trusted? No. Does it mean anything except that fact that he succumbed to a disease and is not an active part of her life anymore? No.

Is there anything to get over? No.

It really is that simple.

The day we lose the significance of what happened, the day we can talk about it in facts, the way we can brush it aside as reality, that is the day we truly "get over it". Everything else is a sham. A facade to cover a facade.