Who the heck is that girl? Who IS that??
First off, I can't tell you how many imaginary vodka tonics I had to down before building up the courage to post my high school senior picture. Yeah, I thought I was the shit back then. And, oddly enough, my hair actually does still look kind of the same (sans the spiral perm, of course). Major differences? Well, gee, let's see. I suppose we can start with the couple of tens of pounds I've gained since I was 17 years old. (side note freak out: I am just realizing that was 17 years ago!!) Someone, pass another bottle of Sky, please?
Why imaginary vodka tonics? Well, as such things have evolved, and thanks to a pretty immature and early tango with alcohol, I no longer choose to drink much anymore. Could be all the alcohol I dumped into my body in a brief amount of years -- back when I definitely wasn't mature enough to handle it -- and a few too many alcohol related regrets. Drinks, now, pretty much consist of a sip from Jorge's glass of wine a few times a month or an occasional drink at a reception.
But, I digress....
Coming up soon, I'm going to be reliving a major part of my high school experience. Think, "Glee" but with sparkly magenta dresses, Aqua Net hair styles, blue eyeshadow, and more jazz hands. Where the brown kids (the 3 of us in the entire choir) had to endure wearing "nude colored uniform nylons" which made the white girls look cute but made dark girls look like chocolate lollipops on little white sticks. Yes, fans, I was in Show Choir. And, I loved it. Like crack, if we had crack in the suburbs. I loved performing, dancing, singing, and warming up as if we were running the NYC marathon. I recall hitting the track - on my own time - so that I could build my stamina for a brief 15 minutes of singing and dancing. Uh-huh.
While there are key things I loved about high school -- orchestra, show choir, some of my classes, music competitions -- I don't often look back fondly on those years. Now, as a 34 year old, mother of 3, survivor of a billion medical obstacles, and educator, I sometimes feel embarrassed for my 17 year old self. I was immature, annoying, and insecure. And, like any kid struggling with those issues, I was often mean, petty, catty, gossipy, controlling, and obnoxious. I didn't know how to be comfortable in my own skin, and so I didn't know how to connect with people who did. In an effort not to show anyone that I felt like I was worthless, I tried to over compensate by putting other people down and not giving room for other kids to thrive. In the kindest terms, I was 'not nice.'
College didn't get much better for me. On one hand, I knew I wasn't mature enough to be on my own and ended up commuting to a local college my first year. That was definitely a good idea as it forced me to be somewhat a college student, but still enabled allowed me to live in this high school/dependent world. But, seeing all of my friends leave our hometown and have amazing stories to tell about their college experiences only made me feel more insecure. I turned to alcohol. I was desperate to find ways to connect to people. I took a lot of the anxiety out on myself and made far too many unhealthy choices. When sophomore year rolled around, I did feel ready to leave the nest (from a safe distance of only 1 hour and 15 minutes away). I felt myself growing up a little bit more, but still made lots of bad choices.
As a college administrator now, I am always so in awe of my students who really put themselves out there and who demonstrate such maturity. I look at some of them and can't see myself in them at all. I have students who have studied abroad, who spend more time volunteering in the community than sitting in classes each week, and who know exactly what they want to do with their lives. I work with students who are in college for the sole purpose of creating a better life for their families. I meet with students who possess such a deep level of maturity, of sense-of-self, and of purpose.
Yet, it's the student who isn't quite sure what to do, or who is struggling, or who is socially awkward that I'm drawn to the most. I see myself in them. I see the same panic in their eyes that I had. I see the same tenseness in their bodies, the same timidness about their futures. But, this time, I hear the comments that others make about them. I hear the subtle groans that others make when these kids talk or act. And, I can't help but accept that others had noticed my own awkwardness when I was in college.
Honestly, I can point to the exact time in my life when I finally let go of my insecurities, my awkwardness, and my self-doubt. I was 29. I had just been told that my daughter had cancer. People sometimes look at me funny when I say that "I'm thankful for Joli's illness" but, it's so true. It forced me to be genuine. I grew up. From that point on, I never tried to be anything other than what I could be. I gave up my obsession with being the most "perfect" person -- popular, thin, brilliant, a size 6, wildly charismatic, effortlessly funny, etc. I finally accepted being just me. And, Me was the only thing I could offer my child. ME was the only thing I could offer myself. I gave up wanting to try so hard to be the best mother, sister, daughter, wife, worker, and just allowed myself to accept the kind of ME that I am. Heh, the funny thing is, that once I gave up trying to be all those things, I started on the path towards being all of those things.
Sound like complacency? I guess it is, sort of. But, I have found great peace in not wanting to "keep up with the Joneses" anymore. I have no desire to out-do anyone, to belittle anyone to lift myself up, nor to be anything but the authentic me. I stopped trying to have the best clothes, the best car, and all that goes with upward status mobility. Yes, that authentic me is way fatter than my 17-year old self. But, the authentic me is also a hell of a lot happier.
I've been through hell and back. And, I'm pretty sure I'm gonna get sent back-and-forth a few more times. That's okay with me.
So, why the anxiety about going back to high school this weekend? First, I don't think I've ever made peace with my 17-year old self. I think I'm still angry at her. Angry that, when I was 17, I didn't think enough of myself to just love who I was. Angry that I relied on other people and other means to define who I was. Angry that I likely made some people feel horrible so that I could feel better about myself.
I think I need to take some cues from my high school, though. I'm going back to that school for the first time in 17 years. And, I hear it's gone under lots of renovation and rebuilding. In a notice I received about the weekend, one of the organizers wrote, "Wait until you see the new auditorium!" Healthy dose of symbolism, anyone?
I'm a different person from the girl I was 17 years ago. Half my lifetime ago. Here's hoping that I can come to peace with who I was, where I have traveled, and who I am today. I'm sure I'll have to take a deep breath, sit in my car a minute, and brace myself for the insecurity that's gonna overtake me when I walk into that gym. And, in those moments, I hope to put my arms around those 17-year old thoughts and say, "You did your best. It's who you were. It's who you had to be." Then, I plan on walking into that gym, dancing my much softer/wider/jiggly body that was home to 3 absolutely beautiful babies, singing with happiness, and give thanks for all that my 17-year old self had to overcome in order for me to be who I am today.
To loosen that...