Today I am somewhat thankful that I went to my high school reunion.
I toured the school. I had a conversation with a junior frustrated about her academic prospects, a sophomore about her frustrations with her beautiful hair and a bored hot man engaged to be married to another hot man I adore.
Each of them had things they wanted to work through. I did my best to listen.
One of the hot guys is a music teacher. That's my dream job. I gave my dream up in college when they told me I'd need to teach math because the budget for music teachers were cut.
I switched my major to social science\psychology. I intended to get my Ph.D. It's hard to do that when you're stalked on campus.
I do the therapy thing. That's not fun. I need to play the role of a human being in public rather than play the role of a therapist.
I toured the school. I took lots of photos.
The band has more than twelve participants now. They win trophies.
Between 1984 and 1987 there were only twelve students in the symphonic band. Luckily, most of us could play numerous instruments.
They have better instruments now. I didn't see a double bass -but- they finally have a baby grand.
Their mixing board was a tad bit outdated.
I wish I had the money to get them a good one.
*****
The one part of the school that makes me cry is the locker where my old friend smacked his head and left a dent. He hit his head out of frustration because I was depressed.
My step-father shot himself in the head a few days before and left an apology note for killing my mother.
I don't know how I could not have been depressed. I probably shouldn't have been in school that day anyway.
That dent was still there the last time I toured the school (ten years ago).
They replaced the locker!
Whew....
I didn't wind up crying this time.
I toured the art room.
I toured the gym.
I saw a picture of a popular football player who graduated three years before I did. I was happy it was still hanging.
I was saddened to learned that this man had killed himself on his 51st birthday. I didn't go to the 1984 reunion. I was invited.
I was too afraid to go because of the stalking.
Maybe I could have done the listening thing then? I knew him....not well....but I knew him. I went to their twenty year reunion. They asked that I bring notepads and pens with my business logo on them so they could write down the contact information for their friends.
Wasn't that thoughtful?
I need to listen to my instincts and not hide away anymore.
I'll end this post now before I wind up crying.
If you're in pain please reach out to someone - anyone - with kind eyes and an intuitive smile.
Or just call a suicide hotline. The staffers aren't paid well so you know it's a labor of love.
Love ya lots,
S.