High School, the high and low of it.
I just attended my 20 year high school reunion a couple of weeks ago. As I prepared to go and face my past, I couldn’t help but wonder what kind of imprint I had left on some of these distant memories. Was I as kind as I thought I was ? as helpful ? as well intended ? Immediately, I thought of those mean girls that chastised me or excluded me, the boys that hurt my inexperienced heart, the loneliness of it all and the exuberant freedom that we all unknowingly possessed. Heavy right ?
As I prepared myself for the ball, wearing more make-up than usual and changing my dress several times, I thought of my own kids. My oldest is now approaching 11 yrs. and my middle almost 9 yrs. How is it all going for them really ? To me they seem happy, well liked, successful in their friendships, but are they being broken a little each time they get cut down by a friend or worse, are they damaging another ? Yes, alot that ran through my brain as i applied too much mascara. Note to self…I must protect them more, cushion them from the inevitable, really get to know the parents of these friends of theirs, ask more questions, shield them, etc. yikes !!!
I arrived, nervously chewing my gum and immediately a barrage of faces and memories came rushing in. I felt overwhelmed, self conscious, insecure and excited in a sick, horrible way, just like, surprise…high school. I slowly let myself enter the buzz of my past, I realized that people had softened and grown into themselves and my desire to protect myself became vague and sloppy. Well, sort of anyway. I realized quickly, that this is about me not them, not high school and not just the pain of adolescence. It is rather the filter that I can sometimes view my world through, my own little heavy suitcase that I carry along at times. Who knew my high school reunion would turn out to be a therapy session for me. Thankfully, I chose to allow the night to be great fun in a surreal kind of way and while some of my memories were painful, most were good, so very good.
As I drove home, I thought of my two complicated little school aged souls and my worries about how they will navigate through these relationships of theirs. Will they suffer ? Will they be unkind ? Will it be hard ? I gulped and came to the obvious conclusion…yes. My job is not to cushion their fall, but to acknowledge their path in it and once again, realize that it will be there own wild, winding, beautiful journey, completely separate from mine. Hopefully they will only carry around a small carry on instead of the suitcase that i’m trying to get rid of.
vanessa barnett
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When I sat down to share my thoughts and insights about what it means to be a valuable mother to my children, I really had to look hard at myself for sometime. I began with the usual rigmarole regarding kindness, respect, empathy and I had to stop myself. Do I always portray an image of kindness ? Am I respectful as I carry on with the minutia of my day ? Am I empathetic when I am rushing to get my 10 year old to finish his homework during breakfast while listening to my 8 year old daughters bout with mean girl drama, all the while trying desperately 
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