My 30th High School Reunion


I have a standing rule on who I’m friends with on Facebook – REAL friends (and by that I mean, people I’ve actually spoken to in real life at some point in my life) and family.


This means I’M NOT FRIENDS WITH ANYONE FROM WORK ON FACEBOOK. I just don’t think it’s a good idea. I’m tempted. I’m VERY tempted, to bend that rule for a few people at work but honestly, I just don’t want the drama, or having to censor myself (anymore than I already do) on what sorts of status updates I post on Facebook. I sometimes comment about work on Facebook and even then, I’m not sure I really should. There have already been three people from high school that I’ve ran into at work and though it was super awesome to see them, it was also super awkward for me. I’ve always worked very hard to keep my working life separate from my “real” life. And this includes my immediate family. They are under STRICT orders not to come “visit” me at work – the melding of my two worlds, even on a temporary basis, throws my entire existence off it’s axis.

Anyway. Because I am friends with quite a few people I went to high school with on Facebook, I learned we’re having a 30th high school reunion in July. I would have had no idea this event even existed if I hadn’t seen it, or been invited to it, on Facebook.

Thanks Facebook, I think.

I have mixed feelings about this reunion. On one hand, it would be awesome to see my old friends again, but then again … UGH.

I didn’t go to my 10-year high school reunion. I WANTED to, but Kevin wanted to go to a church camp in Ohio (OHIO) even more, so I missed it.

Wait. You haven’t heard that story? Let me digress a moment …

Let’s see … Blake was three and Brandon was 18 months? But wait, is that right? I was still giving Brandon bottles because I remember packing bottles, and bottle liners (because I didn’t breast freed, for very selfish reasons – judge away), and a butt load of formula cans … and we borrowed my sister-in-law’s double stroller … and did I mention we drove to Ohio hauling a POP-UP CAMPER? And that we had to stop someplace in Indiana, set up camp, spend the night, then pack everything up and drive the rest of the way to Ohio the next day? And that Ohio had gotten a butt load of rain the week before and the grounds we pulled our POP-UP CAMPER onto were a muddy, swampy mess? And that I got QUITE THE WORKOUT pushing two little boys, in a stroller, through the MUCK and then trying to KEEP THEM QUIET so people could learn a little something-something from church camp without being bothered by two, young, fussy boys??

It was … an experience. In hindsight, I’m really glad we went but I’ll be honest, I didn’t get a lot out of it since I was so focused on the boys, but it was an experience I can hold over Kevin’s head whenever he gives me a hard time about something stupid I’ve done in the past…

Good times.

So no. I would have preferred to stay at home, with all of our baby crap within reach and go to my 10-year high school reunion, but I missed it.

I don’t even know if we had a 20-year reunion, that was pre-Facebook days and see? If we had one, I had no clue about it.

And now, it’s time for our 30-year high school reunion.

It’s SO WEIRD to think I’ve been out of school for 30 years. That sounds like such a long time ago, and I guess I SHOULD feel old, but I don’t. I truly don’t. Thirty years …. Thirty years …. Thirty years …. I think if I say it enough times it’ll somehow feel real. I feel like it’s only been a few years since I graduated from high school – that I’m just NOW getting my life started. Which is a weird thing to say since I’ve gotten married, had several jobs, graduated from college with a BS (yes, it is) degree in Professional Writing and had two pretty freaking awesome sons to boot.

Thirty years sounds ancient. I don’t feel ancient. And apparently I don’t look ancient. (It amuses me when patients try to guess my age – and yes, that happens more times that I’m comfortable with but for some reason, it’s a go-to conversation breaker whenever I show patients back to the exam rooms and no – no one has ever gotten CLOSE to my real age, thank you very much) and the people I’ve worked with have been absolutely FLOORED and SHOCKED to learn my true age.

I guess all those unhealthy preservatives I’ve scarfed down over the past 30 years are doing the trick. (See what I did there?)

Anyhoo, let’s move past the time factor … it’s getting old. (Ba-dum-bump).

A friend of mine sent me a message on Facebook the other day (Hi Shelly!) to ask if I was planning on going to our reunion. I didn’t really give her an answer but my response leaned more to “no.”

Please don’t think badly of me (and if you already do, well …) but my high school days are OVER. They were OVER in my head the moment I met Kevin and we started planning a future together. I’ve never been one to live in the past – it’s sort of a problem. No, it IS a problem. I am so focused on present day and the future that I have a tendency to completely disregard the past and put it so far out of my mind that I completely forget about it.

And I mean so completely that it’s a real effort for me to even REMEMBER past events.

So high school for me? Happened in another lifetime ago. And it’s almost like it happened to another person because I’m certainly nothing like I was in high school. I’m confident, arrogant (well, I was a bit arrogant in high school too), and way smarter than I used to be. I certainly have more common sense NOW. I did some of the stupidest things I’ve ever done in my life in high school … (and shortly thereafter, since we’re being honest here).

And to be brutally honest, I … uh … sort of don’t care to go to the reunion. I’ve sort of written that part of my life off. And it’s not because I had a traumatic experience in high school, far from it, my years in drama class are some of the best years of my life but … I can’t really put my finger on it. I’m sort of anti-social, truth be known. That’s why I don’t have a lot of friends. I like ME time. I like my quiet time. I’m perfectly content to do things with my family or me, myself and I. Small talk doesn’t interest me in the slightest. I just can’t STAND other people’s drama: either in my personal life or in anyone else’s life. I like peace, and serenity and living a simple, quiet life.

And being friends with people means giving up some of that … and did I mention I’m terribly selfish with my time? I mean, don’t get me wrong. I’ve volunteered plenty of my time to the community. I donate to charities, I maintained several school websites for either free or DIRT cheap over the years, thereby informing the community, and the parents, of what was going on at that school. I’m a giving person … as long as it’s on my terms. Friends would require too much time and effort from me and …

Did I mention I’m a selfish person?

I don’t mean to sound flippant, it’s not really a good trait to have and be completely honest about, but … that’s who I am, unfortunately.

And it makes my heart hurt, physically hurt, whenever I hear about other people’s struggles. I’ve been so blessed in my life. I have a fantastic family, a fantastic husband and pretty awesome kids (though I wish they were more focused on their lives and careers but hopefully, with time and a lot of prayer that will come) – NOT PERFECT, but pretty darn close. I’ve worked for everything we have. I’ve gotten very little sleep and sacrificed a lot to be where I am today and it hurts me whenever I hear how other people just weren’t as fortunate for life is so precious and it worries me whenever people take that for granted.

And then there’s Kevin. He would go with me to the reunion because A. I would like him there with me and B. he’s just that kind of guy. (I’m selfish, Kevin is not. He’s one of the most generous and giving people I’ve ever known and I have no idea what I did right to have him in my life). But I wouldn’t enjoy having him there because I’d be worried the whole time that he was bored, or feeling awkward because let’s face it – reunions are not fun for the spouses. Spouses have to stand awkwardly by and smile and laugh at people and stories they know nothing about and probably care even less about.

And I would have to dress up. I’m so used to wearing scrubs every day or t-shirts and sweats at home that the thought of putting on an actual pair of pants sort of makes me anxious, if you want the truth. It’s not so much that I’m worried about what I look like or think I’m fat, I just feel like I’m trying to be someone I’m not. Because I’m not a person who goes out of her way to dress for success and certainly not to impress people. In fact, it’s safe to say that I’m FINALLY comfortable in my skin and though I’m conscious about how I look and want to look nice for both myself and for my husband, I no longer obsess over what size I am. (As long as I’m not taking up two seats when I sit down, I’m good).

*takes a breath* All of this to say, that no, I will not be going to my 30th high school reunion. I just don’t have any interest in reliving those days. They are part of who I was, not part of who I am now.