Our Mommyhood

A couple of weeks ago, I wrote about my puzzlement over my hesitation to go to my 20-year  High School reunion.  Leading up to the event, I felt compelled to attend and face my demons though, as I wrote, I’m wasn’t even sure what the demons were.  Since I was neither popular nor picked on in high school, I wondered if maybe the feeling I was trying to avoid was a return to feeling totally unremarkable.

Now the event has come and gone.  I’ve taken my family, we’ve chatted with dozens and laughed with many.  Been there, done that.   My worst fear about the Reunion did, in fact, come true but more importantly, I learned something interesting about worst fears.

Event 1 of the reunion was truly a blast.  My suburban Baltimore school sponsored an outdoor crab feast on a warm, sunny day; to a native Marylander, there is nothing better!  I saw one of my closest girl friends and her family (husband and two daughters, just like mine) on the walk from the car to the event, making our could-be awkward arrival totally comfortable.

And just like that, I was back in high school.  You see, these days, I don’t even think about whether I arrive at an event (aka: school pick up, school Bingo night, work meeting) on my own, but immediately upon this high school time travel experience, I felt the compelling need to have someone by my side.  I was instantly a teenager again, needing a crowd to validate my existence.   As a parent, I like to tell my girls to choose positive, healthy friendships and to avoid peers who bully or treat them poorly.  Yet, one step into my high school world and I was overwhelmed by the same compulsion that drives kids, tweens and teens to have people—even if it means mean people—around them at all time.

But I digress.  Fortunately for me, the friend I walked in with has always been a good one—not just someone to make me feel less alone.  Together (and separate, once we both adjusted to the 20-year time warp) we mixed, mingled, re-connected with old classmates, and enjoyed a great afternoon.  All of my nervousness vanished.  People I had never spoken to in high school were warm and friendly.  Girls whose judgment I used to fear expressed interest in my life and were complimentary about my appearance.  It felt good to feel good in their presence, as this is what I never felt back when we were students together.

We were among the last to leave the crab feast, just in time to take my daughters to my mom’s house, change clothes, and head back out for the evening class party.  I was nerve-free and thinking bemused thoughts about how the anticipation of an event is always worse (or better!) than the real thing.

And then…it all came rushing back.

I can’t even put my finger on what happened at the party—I had several pleasant conversations, one stellar re-connection with a long-lost friend who now shares my same field of work, and plenty of good food and drink.  Yet overwhelmingly, I felt invisible.   It’s hard to describe; please know that blogging aside, I am not an attention-seeker, but rather am wholly content going about my days without validation from others.  But something about the Reunion experience brought back the very same hyper-awareness I had in high school of who I was talking to and (gasp!) if there was a moment that I was not talking to anyone.  Again, that need to be surrounded by others in order to feel important crept up on me.

Here’s the really surreal part.

After the weekend, I did what any 2011-er would do; I clicked on Facebook to look at the Reunion pictures. Still trying to make sense of my lingering un-ease about the whole event, I viewed dozens of photos posted by classmates and noticed something; I was not in any of them.  Now, granted, I did not pose for many…but I did pose for some, including the class group photo.  I swear I was rubbing my eyes and racking my brain as I viewed three different postings of the photo and realizing that I did not appear in any of them!  I know exactly who I was standing next to; she is in the picture and next to her there is just space.

Twilight Zone, right?

The photos sort of bring it all home.   I hesitated for weeks at the thought of attending the Reunion because I didn’t want to return to the teenage version of myself who felt unimportant and invisible among her high school peers.  My inexplicable absence in the class photo confirmed that worst fear, but the feeling I have today as I think about it is the real kicker: my worst fear came true and I don’t actually even care.   I dare say, I find a lot of humor in the photo and complete lack of evidence of my attendance at the event that I sweated over.

In high school, all I wanted was to matter—to have some sort of identity.  Twenty years ago, I generally defined “me” in terms of the “others” that I surrounded myself with.  It was only after high school that I learned to look within to find my true self.  Today, I am a mother, a writer, a wife, a therapist, a daughter, a teacher, a friend, a colleague, and most importantly, I am Signe.  I have successfully defined myself in many different ways and am happy with each of them.

What used to be my worst fear—being without an identity—is now so far from my current reality that it actually feels great to face the fear down and put it to rest once and for all.  My absence in the Class of ’91 photo will serve as a great reminder of how far I have come in mattering to myself.

By Signe Whitson, LSW, mom to two wonderful little girls, a wife, Chief Operating Officer and a Master Trainer for the Life Space Crisis Intervention Institute.

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