#3: Whoever says people can’t change has never been to a 20th High School Reunion.
“Okay, well, I’ll see you at the “I’ve peaked and I’m kidding myself” party.”
-Grosse Pointe Blank (1997)
It’s 6:54 a.m. on Sunday, August 1. I’m sitting in Starbucks after returning home several hours ago from my 20 year high school reunion. My mind is still spinning after seeing so many people from years ago, and everything I can think of to tell you about the reunion feels like a cliché. But here goes.
I wasn’t very nervous beforehand. It could be because I knew that two or three of my closest friends were going to be there, but all day yesterday I was full of excitement and enthusiasm, not anxiety or fear. Even accidentally running into a dear old friend and his family at a restaurant for lunch was a pleasant surprise; not scary at all. I think much of this may be because I was so unhappy for most of high school, even though I did a decent job of hiding it.
My life is pretty great now in general, but compared to high school it’s fan-freaking-tastic.
A little perspective: In high school, I drove a Chevette, was a compulsive overeater, fell in love with more than one guy who did not love me back, had a brother who was acting out at home, and failed pre-algebra.
One person at the reunion said to me: “You look so much better now than you did in high school!”
To which I responded: “Well, let’s be honest. That would not be hard to do.”
Right around this time 20 years ago, I was getting ready to drive off into the wide world of college.
Me and my forest green suitcase, along with my new extra-long twin sheets, $232.00 in spending money, a memory board made by my best friend, and every one of my Amy Grant and Michael W. Smith cassette tapes.
I was hoping to find my “Place In This World.”
I had no clue what was in store for me, just as most if not all of this year’s college freshmen are without any idea of the change they are about to undergo.
I went off to a huge research university, where I was a totally anonymous number and absolutely no one knew who I was. I absolutely loved it.
It was exactly what I needed to re-invent myself and start over as the person I always wanted to be, knew I could be, hoped I would be.
I found deep and defining friendships, met my husband, and discovered my faith identity, among other things.
My fashion sense would take a bit longer to develop, but give me a break- it was the early 90’s.
College was an amazing ride that I would never change for anything. I’m convinced that part of why I have continued to work with college students for the last 15 years is because of the transformative experience that college was for me. It marked me.
One would think that because of that, I would be hesitant about attending a reunion of people who knew the “before” version of myself. But my reunion was not at all the experience that I’ve heard described by others, where it feels like you’ve stepped into a time warp and people still just talk to their “group” and ignore others not of their social circle. It did not feel at all like it was a smaller, more aged version of prom.
It felt like a celebration of all the best parts of that time in life; the youth, the optimism, the hope and the confidence. Like we only remembered the good parts about each other, and had forgiven the bad. All of us had grown wiser, more compassionate, had more of a sense of what really mattered in life.
As the night went on, people confessed times I’d hurt their feelings, how much more important I had been to them than they had ever told me, how funny they thought I was. This all meant so much to me because they knew me when I thought of myself as neither powerful, nor important, nor funny. Twenty years later, it’s (somewhat) easier to say I am those things, thanks to a lot of hard work and a little therapy. But back then? I was a desperate imitator of all things cool, just like everyone else.
Business cards were exchanged, promises made to connect on Facebook or when some are back in town for family events. I left the reunion wishing it could have lasted longer (yet still a tiny bit too insecure to go on to the after-party), and feeling full to the brim of nostalgia and inspiration. At a time when everywhere I look there is yet another story or example of the superficiality of our relationships and communication styles, my reunion helped me realize that I am grounded and at peace with my past, and ready to fully face the future.
This is what 20 years of pursuing self-leadership will get you.
I can hardly wait for the next chance to connect with these beloved friends. Until then, have a great summer and stay sweet.
And, please, do change. Change a lot.
But most of all, lead your life.
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