I’ve Grown Up.
Why I’d rather forget who I was in high school
Recently, I wondered why I was so agitated when one of my friends who I had kept from high school had invited me to a shindig where people from high school would be. I had nothing against those people, but it agitated me. I realized that agitation came from a desire to reject how I was at that point in my life. It was not like high school was bad — quite the opposite. It was boring. I studied and went online. I wasn’t bullied nor did I care much for drama. I was surrounded by good people.
When I realized that there had been multiple scandals at the end of senior year, I never heard about — I smiled at the fact that no one told me because they knew I genuinely didn’t care.
By senior year, I was at the pinnacle of what I could have been in that configuration of human being.
I did well academically at that stage of my life, but I hated the control. As a person that itches at authority — teachers seemed like glorified babysitters at the end of the day. Babysitters that didn’t know their material very well or seemed to care deeply about their craft.
There were a couple of teachers I adored. One Libertarian history teacher who was the real-life version of Ron Swanson and an English teacher who was Kate Walsh and Tina Fey in one body. It was in those classes I found pieces of myself scattered in the annals of my history book and the pages of my English readings.
I knew this was all going to crash to the ground. For one, I knew I was not that disciplined and I didn’t have that much life experience under my belt.
I found myself as an antisocial extrovert. One who was never socially awkward and got along with everyone, but felt lonely. Lonely that the things I liked online were never fully understood by others.
By senior year, I was at the pinnacle of what I could have been in that configuration of human being. I was getting good grades, was going to the university I wanted and even had a love interest on the side. I had a summer job. I was feeling myself.
But, in the back of my mind, there was this itch. I knew this was all going to crash to the ground. For one, I knew I was not that disciplined and I didn’t have that much life experience under my belt. For a long time, I had done what others wanted me to do. I said what they wanted me to say. I didn’t want to disappoint. However, I never asked myself what I wanted and who I wanted to be. I never looked at life outside of a safety net. University would be the battleground where these questions and pondering would come front and center.
The relationship I was in had taught me that I was selfish and shallow. It scared me. I was full of myself in a way that wasn’t healthy. I knew that I needed to break myself down. I knew that it would hurt.
The first year, was a sucker. I failed. I cried …a lot. I gained weight. My relationship God was tested. There were moments I asked myself, Why am I a Christian? That year I learned, God is patient. Being deconstructed hurts, but it’s worth it. I found myself learning that even when I felt like I hit rock bottom — my parents would not leave me on the street and I can truly trust myself again.
The second year, was another sucker. It was a year of betrayal. I thought I trusted the right people and was going in the right direction, but I got some things wrong. I had a couple messy friend break ups. There was drama. There were tears. I thought that I would fall in love, but I never did. That year I learned, trusting God is always first. Focus on yourself and your calling — stop trying to be what you think other people want you to be. The people that are supposed to be in your life will. Don’t be afraid to put your heart out there. Don’t allow the past to block your future blessings.
God’s timing is perfect. This year I have learned to trust Him and not myself. For so long I was used to muscling myself through situations.
In my loss, I found myself. I began working out. I began working on myself more. I had honestly been in a dark place for eighteen and nineteen. My mental health was terrible. I cried all the time. I didn’t sing as much. I felt so — broken. As 2017 began, I felt like that brokeness was turning into something beautiful. Out of the ashes of my dispair came a resilience I didn’t know that I had. I dug deeper into volunteerism. I started mapping what I wanted for the future — even though it scared me. I began to do what made me happy. I said “no” more. I spoke my truth more often. I left situations I didn’t want to be in. I became ok with what I liked or didn’t like.
God’s timing is perfect. This year I have learned to trust Him and not myself. For so long I was used to muscling myself through situations. This year, I said He will by my cloud by day and pillar of fire by night. In every situation, I rely on Him. No longer doing it on my own or holding my breathe until it’s over. I am learning to truly enjoy this journey. It has not been easy, but worth having is?
Perhaps people like high school so much because it was the last time they were truly free. Free from responsibilities or fear. I love John Hughes films. I have seen each at least five times. I liked them because they showed that freedom. The desire to learn more about yourself while being in a safe space. High school is the last time you have a safety net. University is when your mistakes start to matter.
I want to leave my undergrad closer to becoming the woman I want to be. I am becoming my own inspiration. I am my own goals. However, this does not happen just because I spoke it. It comes with some trials and lots of gained wisdom. By looking at my high school self, I see a girl who hasn’t been through those trials yet. It hurts because I know that’s what she needs to get where I am now.
Learning to enjoy the process,
G.
Writer’s note: This was written to the tune of this nice album: https://open.spotify.com/album/62RSrNGIGo9anRxZXO1vfR
