A week or two ago, I got an email notifying me that I’d been added to a new group on Facebook. It was a group for my high school graduating class of 1992. It seems it’s time to start planning our 20th reunion. I have to be honest and say that the very thought of my upcoming reunion fills my heart with fear and dread. I’m sure I’m not the first, and I won’t be the last to feel that way. I didn’t go to my 10th reunion, but it wasn’t because I had aged or put on weight. I didn’t attend my 10th and don’t want to go back for my 20th, because I don’t like being reminded of the person I used to be.

There’s a quote from the movie Hope Floats that has always stuck with me. It’s at the very end; the little girl in the movie begins to narrate, then her mom takes over: “My dad says that childhood is the happiest time of my life. But, I think he’s wrong. I think my mom’s right. She says…Childhood is what you spend the rest of your life trying to overcome. …Beginnings are scary, endings are usually sad, but it’s the middle that counts the most”. I’ve heard some people describe their youth as fun and carefree. For me, my teenage years were the most stressful of my entire life. Us grownups may look at our youth now and call their teen angst silly and trivial, but I’m here to tell you that I thought my drama was rather serious. I was never a very confident child, but in my teens I was plagued with a nearly crippling lack of self confidence. I was (and still am) a very introverted and shy person. I had people tell me that they tried to say “hello” to me in the halls, but I never heard them because I was looking at the floor and moving as quickly as I could to get to my next class. I didn’t want to be in the hall any longer than I had to be. I had friends, great ones in fact, but I always felt awkward in social situations. I was ridiculously skinny, my body had no shape, my hair was thick and frizzy, and I had (have) a big, ugly nose. I did have some fun times. I loved music (it was the one thing I thought I was good at), so I was a band nerd. That certainly didn’t help me win any popularity contests, though. Every August, I thought, “This is my year”. The boys are going to notice me, and I might actually have a boyfriend. The popular kids won’t treat me like a geek. Alas, every school year went the same as the one before. I’d fall head over heels in unrequited love with a couple of different guys only to have my heart broken over and over again when I would find out that they had absolutely no interest in me. I would get up the nerve to get involved in social events, only to try too hard and end up feeling like a fool. I hated school from the very first day of first grade. Because I was smart, I got pretty good grades but could’ve gotten great grades if I had made more of an effort. I was so easily overwhelmed with tests and homework. Honestly, though, I felt like school was a waste of my time. I didn’t care about college, and I didn’t want a career. Go ahead and call me old-fashioned, but all I really wanted was to fall in love, get married and be a mom. So, those 4 years of high school were pure torture. I was depressed most of the time. The anxiety of dealing with the pressures of school work and the desire to fit in kept me from eating breakfast in the mornings, because my stomach was a bundle of nerves. I also had constant tension headaches. I was a very angry and negative person. I was so jealous of the beautiful people. I had a very bad habit of talking about other people’s faults, because, I guess, I thought that would make me look better. I felt that my station in life was unfair. Because of my behavior and the fact that I was very much the introvert and didn’t come off as totally friendly, I heard rumors that many people thought I was a snob or a bitch.