I recently did something I didn’t want to.
Last month my wife and I flew back to Colorado for a weekend so that I could attend my 10-year high school reunion. This was something I went back and forth on for a while and I only decided to attend last minute. It was an experience that I am still processing and I thought it might be helpful to share.
High School
High school was a hard time in my life. I never really felt like I fit in. I was self-conscious, anxious, and self-absorbed. I struggled with my weight and even more with my opinion of myself. I was a social jack-of-all-trades-master-of-none. I had many friends and could generally get along with just about anyone. But my childhood best friend was a few years older than I was and when he left for college I felt like everyone else had their tightest friends and I was relegated to the periphery of a few different friend groups. I spent an altogether unhealthy amount of time pursuing girls who weren’t interested in me and I failed to invest in the things that made me feel good about myself. I coasted off my intellect and backpedaled from challenging courses that made me stretch. This whole experience culminated in a handful of episodes that made it anything but an accident that I looked far afield for college. As high school ended, I was ready to slam the book on that chapter of my life and move on without looking back.
College
And move on I did! College was an altogether different experience for me. It was scary and new, but it allowed me to carve out a different persona. One that was still riddled with some of the same anxieties and self-conscious feelings, but to who they were a simple burden versus a crushing weight. My parents stuck around during orientation and I remember we went out for dinner on the day they left. I vividly remember weeping in the car not because I was sad to see them leave or because I would miss them, but because, even after only a handful of days with people who were still largely strangers, I felt like I had found a place where I fit in for the first time in life. And that initial feeling ended up being born out. At William & Mary, I found a home for myself in a way that I never had before. I had the dumb luck of getting the world’s best freshman hall which has stayed extremely close a decade later and still makes sure to get together for reunions once or twice a year. I grew in confidence and matured into an adult. I stopped chasing people who were wrong for me and became the kind of man who was ready for a level of relationship with the woman who has now become my wife. There were stops and starts and it wasn’t always a smooth path, but I found my Tribe in my friends, my classmates, my fraternity, and most of all, my wife. I still look back on my senior year of college as the best year of my life.
Despite the overwhelmingly positive experience, I still carried the scars that had formed in high school. I continued to have social anxiety in situations that were new or where I didn’t have a “comfort blanket” of a close friend (this made rushing a fraternity an unbelievably painful experience until one of my closes friends essentially dragged me towards his fraternity knowing it would be the right fit for me even if I didn’t know it myself.) The hurt I felt feeling like I was always on the outside looking in during high school manifested in status-seeking behavior and a need for attention and recognition. My identity became more and more intertwined with my intellect. It grew more and more important to me to be seen as smart by others. As my need to appear intelligent and logical grew, my empathy towards others diminished. It was more important for me to win arguments or point out the logical inconsistencies with others’ stances than it was to build relationships or try to understand where people were coming from.
Grad School
For the sake of brevity, I will skip ahead to grad school. It’s not that I didn’t grow in the intervening 4 years between undergrad and grad school. I did in a lot of ways. Personally, professionally, and spiritually. But I didn’t make much progress on my high school baggage. I was mostly well-adjusted and mostly happy. And that was good enough for a long time.
Things changed when I got to grad school. For anyone that has explored getting an MBA or some other graduate degree, the value of said degree is often discussed in terms of a golden stamp on your resume or setting a high floor for your compensation, or the incredible network you will build. All of those things are true, but I think the piece of the MBA value equation that had the biggest delta between its impact on me and how much it is talked about is the space that grad school provides you. It is really hard to grapple with life’s big questions when you are working full-time and simply trying to do what you need outside of work to maintain your sanity and some semblance of a social life. Like the decanting of a fine wine, grad school gives you time to breathe. To sit there with your thoughts and goals and aspirations and ask yourself the big questions. What do you want to do? What kind of person do you want to be? Where do you want to live? What are your values?
This mental breathing room and the amount of personal growth I experienced as a by-product of it was one of the biggest surprises of the MBA experience. Two experiences in particular were crucial for my personal growth.
The first was a program called P3: Passion, Purpose, and Principles. During P3, small groups would meet and read through Springboard. Springboard was written by Professor Shell, one of my favorite Wharton professors and a leading expert on success. The book is an incredible guide along the journey of figuring out what is important to you and how you can craft a life that aligns with those values. First as a participant and then as a leader, P3 helped me to clarify my innermost beliefs about the kind of person that I wanted to be. This process coalesced around 4 core values (or non-negotiables as the world’s greatest football coach would say).
My Non-Negotiables
Be Grateful
Life is a gift and without gratitude, it is far too easy to forget that I have so many things in my life I once prayed for. I have an incredible wife that inspires me to be a better man every day. I have a family who loves me. I am financially secure and healthy. I have a father in heaven who loves me so much that he sent his son to die for my sins. My life is truly blessed and as such, I choose to be a blessing to those around me.
Live Simply
“Everything we need to be happy is easy to obtain”. I choose to live within my means and avoid upgrading my lifestyle. I choose to opt-out of pie-eating contests where the only prize is more pie. I find joy in the little everyday things and never lose a sense of childlike wonder. I am happiest in life spending time outside with people that I love. Other things that make me happy are reading a book, making a cocktail, and listening to my record player. None of those things are expensive or hard to achieve and I can do them whenever I want. I choose to practice mindfulness and meditation to remember that I have all that I need to be happy, I just need to remember to be aware of it.
Journey Before Destination
Half of life is showing up. I choose to put the journey of my life before any destination. The journey of my life is an ongoing pursuit to be a slightly better person/husband/father/leader every single day. I know I will never be perfect but I choose to work hard and with discipline toward the pursuits I believe in and to be there for the people I care about. I choose to be an ethical and faith-focused leader for both my family and in my work. I choose to chop wood and carry water, knowing that every day I am building my own house. I choose to eat healthily and regularly exercise knowing that maintaining my health is the only way I can excel in other aspects of my life such as being a good husband and father.
Be Empathetic
My default is to be self-centered. I know that being empathetic toward others doesn’t come naturally to me, but I actively choose to be empathetic and forgiving of others. I invert the fundamental attribution error. I forgive others’ shortcomings and attribute them to environmental factors while taking responsibility for my own failures. When I succeed I give other people the credit. When I fail I take responsibility. I know that I have lived a privileged life and as such, I hold myself to a higher standard. To whom much is given, much is expected.
Those words may or may not resonate with you. But every single one of them resonates to the core of my being. Those values represent, not who I am today, but the person I hope one day to be.
The other experience at grad school that I got immense value out of is my sessions with a school-funded executive coach. This ended up feeling much more like therapy than professional coaching, but whatever it was, made a massive impact on me. With my coach I was able to sift through some of the scar tissue I still carried from high school. I dredged up and examined the aspects of my persona that had their roots in the hurt that I experienced in those days. In particular, I came face to face with two aspects of my personality that I had previously refused to acknowledge. The first we jokingly referred to as “Whiz Kid” and the second as “O.L.I.” (Outside Looking In). Whiz kid was the part of me that always needed to be seen as right. It was the face I would show when I was in the classroom or having a philosophical debate with friends. It was the part of me that would rather be seen as smart than kind. Who would rather win an argument than uncover what was actually true.
Whiz kid represents some of the parts of myself that I am least proud of, but I can’t feel too much antipathy towards him as his purpose was to protect his little brother, Oli. Oli was the hurt part of me that felt like I didn’t belong. The part that felt like I wasn’t adequate and didn’t deserve to be included. It was an inner part of my psyche that my 28-year-old self had largely forgotten was even there. I had become so used to living with it and had come up with so many coping mechanisms that in my day-to-day life, I didn’t feel the bite of those wounds any longer. But just because I had learned to cover up the wounds didn’t mean that they had ever truly healed. It took me coming face to face with Oli and one critical realization about him to finally begin the healing process. Oli was created out of a place of hurt, yes, but in that place, he had become a seed for many of the parts of myself that I was most proud of. Oli knew what it felt like to not be included and because of that, he didn’t want anyone else to share in those feelings of exclusion. Oli was the small ember of my inner kindness, empathy, and inclusiveness. Feelings that I didn’t (and still don’t) show the world nearly as much as I should, but feelings that when expressed, caused me to feel more wholly myself than anything else. For over 10 years, I hated Oli and tried to forget about him. It took me doing the not-so-pleasant work of coming face to face with him to realize that there was nothing to hate in this anxious, hurt, kid that I used to be. I now feel nothing but warmth towards that part of myself. Yes, I was hurt, but in that crucible, the best parts of myself had many of their beginnings.
10-Year Reunion
Which brings me back to my 10-year high school reunion. This post has been a long, winding, cathartic, and probably altogether overly personal journey but I promise I will tie it all together. As mentioned, I went back on whether I should go or not. I felt like grad school had finally afforded me an acceptance of my high school years and how they were a critical episode of my journey, even if they had been an unpleasant one. Should I really go back and face people who I had so recently let go of grudges against? Should I risk re-opening old wounds that had only recently begun to heal?
A part of me tried to put off the decision long enough that it would be made for me, but in the end, I decided that, at the very least, going to my reunion was something I wanted to have done if not something I was especially excited about actually doing.
So my wife and I fly out to Colorado so I could face some of my inner demons.
The day of the reunion I was nervous. There was an undeniable pressure to try to portray a certain picture of myself. There was a part of me that wished I was further along in my weight loss journey and that my beard had grown to cover even more of the baby face that I still sometimes felt self-conscious about after seeing a high school classmate years after graduating who exclaimed that I looked “the exact same as I did in high school”. But leaning on the one person who I trusted most in the whole world, I decided to simply try to go as I was. With all my strengths and all of my weaknesses. All the growth I had experienced and all the ways I still felt like I fell short.
And it was incredible.
It truly was a shockingly positive experience. After a wonderful dinner with friends I had barely spoken to in a decade, we went to the reunion itself and even my most optimistic of expectations were surpassed.
I felt like I knew everyone there and everyone there was genuinely excited to see me. And in perhaps the biggest surprise of all, I was genuinely excited to see them.
Over the course of a couple of hours, I spoke with more people from my high school than I could possibly recount. Some old friends who I hadn’t talked to since graduation. Some folks I didn’t remember being especially close with who still went out of their way to track me down and catch up. I even spoke with multiple people who I was nervous about seeing.
And in not one of those conversations did I feel anything other than genuine warmth. Everyone was kind and seemed genuinely interested in me and my life. They were thrilled to meet my wonderful wife and truly seemed happy for the life we were building together.
There wasn’t any ill will or awkwardness.
Just a level of familiarity and comfort of seeing people who knew me before I became who I am today and who were excited to hear about the path that I took to get here.
I had thought the personal growth I had experienced in grad school had finally allowed me to write the last chapter on my high school experience. But attending my 10-year reunion is what allowed me to finally close the book.
That night, I realized that all the perceived injury I had experienced, whether real or imagined, came from kids who were just as anxious, immature, lost, and self-absorbed as I was. It may sound obvious in hindsight, but all the hurt in my story came, not from some sort of malicious intent, but from teenagers who were struggling just as much as me to navigate the transition from child to adult.
I was struck by how normal everyone seemed. A bunch of teenagers who didn’t have anything figured out had become a bunch of adults who, while further along, were still largely trying to find their way. Just like I was.
Perhaps even more surprising than the warmth I felt from others, was the warmth I felt pouring out of myself. I talked with people whose insults I had held onto for years. People who had failed to include me or spurned my advances. And I felt nothing but happiness toward them. I maybe never uttered these exact words, but that night I was finally able to forgive and let go of all the hurt I had felt as a teenager.
Monsters in the Closet
It was funny listening to my wife’s perspective on the evening as we drove back to my parent's house.
“If you hadn’t spent the last 8 years complaining about high school, I would’ve thought you were the Prom King! For as much as you seemed to have thought you were left out and not included, you sure seemed to have a lot of friends who were happy to see you and catch up.”
With the clarity it took me a decade to find, she’s probably right. I had a lot more friends than I had been telling myself and I hope to do a better job of staying in touch with them over the next 10 years than I did over the last.
I am so happy with my life and high school was a part of what shaped me into the person I am today. Looking back, I wouldn’t change a single thing.
The best way I think I have been able to articulate the experience is through metaphor. For over a decade it felt like there had been a monster in my closet. I largely ignored it, but it still caused me to feel uneasy anytime I thought about it. At my 10-year reunion, I finally turned the lights on only to discover that the scary monster was nothing more than an old sweater. A sweater that brings feelings of comfort and a smile on my face as I remember a younger, more naive me who took the monsters in the closet far too seriously.
I am so glad I went to my 10-year reunion.
It was the final chapter in a journey of letting go. Of finally accepting that I am enough. I feel like I can finally put the book of my high school experience on a shelf. And when I take it down and reflect on my teenage years in the future it won’t be with spite or frustration, but with a smile.
I hope you go to your reunions. Maybe they won’t have the kind of earth-shattering importance for you as they did for me, but I’d still recommend it. You never know what kind of monsters you may have in the closet that simply need to be brought out into the light.
Thank you to all my friends from high school. There were many more of you than I had previously given credit for. Best of luck and I hope our paths cross again. I wish you nothing but happiness and joy and success and satisfaction along whatever trail life takes you down.
Gratefully yours,
Erik