I’ve been running at my old high school—which is now closed as of two years ago but that’s another story—on the track around the football field. It brings back weird memories and nostalgia. I graduated six years ago, and it seems really long ago that I was walking those halls. It’s also kind of sad to know that it’s closed now, especially since both of my parents went there, too, in the 1970s.
I really hope that high school me would be proud of where I am now.
High school wasn’t really all that bad for me, but it probably seemed earth-shattering at the time. Because who isn’t caught up in all of the drama that high school brings? I was part of ~four different friend groups, which wasn’t on purpose. Or rather, I guess I was friends with people in four different friend groups. I didn’t really mind, but I missed having a best friend or a core group to turn to. Thankfully I started working at the ice cream shop, and that’s where I got my second family and best friends—still to this day.
I wasn’t lucky at all in the boy department, which looking back on, was probably a good thing. I had crushes on guys and whatever, but I never dated anyone. It was hard seeing friends in relationships and wondering what that would be like. But people change during/after high school, and I guess everyone’s just a little awkward. (I am jealous of those select few who are still together after starting to date in high school.)
During my senior year, I wrote down each day and what happened. I was reading through it a few weeks ago, and I forgot some of the really funny stuff that happened. And I also saw how I struggled with my-then undiagnosed anxiety. I’m not sure if it was worse because of friends and boys and drama and everything that comes with high school, but I’m glad I was able to put a name—generalized anxiety disorder—to what I was feeling. I worried about every little thing, and now that I know how to control my anxiety, I don’t let the little things bother me. And I know what’s in my control and not in my control.
Of course, I was a big baseball fan in high school and was yelling about sports. I had a teacher all four years for business classes—this is when I took one accounting class and thought that’s what I wanted to do with the rest of my life—who was a huge Yankees fan. He found out my freshman year that I loved the Red Sox, and we harassed each other until I graduated. He was awesome, and he’d stand outside the classroom and greet us with a handshake. I took his classes as electives and only took them because he was a great teacher.
I managed the varsity baseball team my junior and senior years, and that made me feel like I kind of knew what I was doing in high school. I walk by the field on my way to the track to run now, and it brings back from good memories.
In the yearbook my senior year, I put I wanted to be a journalist at ESPN as my career, and my quote was “You can’t buy happiness, but you can buy ice cream, which is pretty much the same thing.” I’m not a journalist at ESPN, but I still agree with that quote. I stay in touch with a few friends now but mostly see everyone’s updates on social media.
On that note, I’m glad social media wasn’t too popular when I was in high school and when I graduated in 2012. I didn’t have a Facebook account until my sophomore year of college, and although I had a Twitter and Instagram, I didn’t use them as much. So that’s how I avoided being tagged in now embarrassing pictures from over six years ago. (Thus why there are no personal pictures included in this post. I also think they got lost on my old computer…)
Did 18 year old me think I’d be where I am today, six years later? I have no clue. I never thought I’d get my master’s, because it just wasn’t on my mind. I knew I wanted to be a sports journalist, but that changed once I got to college. I think, though, that my personality and likes and character haven’t changed much. Not sure if I’m just being biased, but I never went through any dramatic changes. I’m still the same caring, sarcastic, and baseball-obsessed person I was six years ago.