For some strange reason I pulled out my senior yearbook tonight and started reminiscing, telling Hubby all about my high school experience. At first, I talked with pride and happiness, but then it hit me: what was I happy about? Those years were miserable for me. As I thought more about it, I kept getting sadder and sadder. I started feeling just the way I did when people back then called me horrible names and laughed at me.
And the few things that I always thought of fondly, I now realize were orchestrated to also make fun of me. I just didn't realize it at the time because I was so desperate for anyone to be my friend.
I realized something else tonight. Last year my 15 year reunion took place and it never even occurred to me that it was that year. I was denied the ability to go to my 10 year reunion by one of the girls in school that hated me the most. She withheld the reunion and ticket information, so I missed it. I was very upset about that. It still pisses me off. She had no fucking right to do that to me. I went to school with them from 3rd through 12th grade. I did have a couple of friends and would have loved to have seen them. But no - the bitch didn't want me to go. So I had been looking forward to the 15 year reunion.
But my own life got in the way this time. Not only was I struggling with my bipolar, but last summer my dad became very ill and passed away. It's not surprising at all that the reunion didn't even register as a blip. But now, as I think of it, I feel once again as if I missed out.
I don't even know why I wanted to go to the stupid things. Everyone there would still be harboring animosity toward me. Out of my graduating class of about 650 people, there were about 5 that were nice to me, and only 2 that were ever friends. I guess the reason I was, and still am, pissed off is that it should have been MY choice on whether I attended or not. They had no right to make that choice for me.
I told my therapist about the 10 year reunion crap one time. She said that was one of the saddest things she'd ever heard. That people would be so cruel so many years later. I appreciated the sympathy.
And why, 16 years later, does this high school experience still color my world so much? One thing it taught me was to always be on the lookout for someone to hurt you. I think maybe that experience is one reason why I hate attention and would prefer to be invisible. If no one sees you, then they won't attack.
The only good things to come from those years are my 2 lifelong friends that I'm still in contact with today. They're like sisters to me. The other was one teacher who listened. He met with me every morning before school for a half hour for at least 3 months and just talked with me. He listened to me and helped. He was the only adult I trusted enough to tell that I was being sexually abused at home. He meant more to me than he'll ever know, and most likely I wouldn't be on this earth if it weren't for him. He saved my life. He was the only light in a world of darkness and pain where every day was filled with thoughts of suicide.
I ran into him in 1999 when I went with my best friend to her 10 year reunion (she was a year ahead of me in school). He was still teaching at the high school. We saw each other in the hall and he recognized me immediately, remembered my name and those 3 months. He asked how I was doing, how my life was. I hugged him and thanked him for helping me through one of the toughest times of my life. But I didn't tell him how much he really meant to me. I wish I had. Maybe I'll send him a letter at the school. If he's not working there anymore, maybe they'll have a forwarding address and send it to him. I'd like him to know how much he changed my life. He's a true hero.
