While I wouldn't call this good timing, it's certainly timing.
Let's start by apologizing for what a terrible person I was in middle school, as a daughter, sister, and friend. Not that I'm only just realizing/acknowledging this - I've always maintained that my past self is my own form of birth control. Man, I was a brat. Simultaneously feeling the full effects of being motherless and the stir crazy of living life as a small town girl...it really didn't look good on me (although I would assume it wouldn't look good on anyone...). I resented my dad because I wanted my mom. I resented my brother because he was the baby of the family and was very clearly favored (still a point of contention at times). I resented my friends simply because I needed a change of pace. And the common thread throughout these three roles (daughter, sister, friend) was that I convinced myself no one would understand what was happening to me, and so I refused...everything.
There is still so much wrong with me. Any classic developmental issue you can think of, I've probably got it. This on top of being a psychological oxymoron (always want change but trouble adapting, want to be around but is afraid of people, and simultaneously unable to express emotion but prone to getting hysterical in public places). Hey, no wonder why I think I'm going to die alone.
But this is about middle school. Even with the magic if Facebook, by now I've managed to put almost everything about Los Alamos behind me. Save for the times I exchange a couple words with someone who used to be a big part of my life or the times I have to convince people that yes, I did actually grow up in New Mexico, I really only associate the place with my mom, so needless to say, the entire memory is colored black. But I guess that's kind of a lie. When I think about Los Alamos, I think about what a major brat I was. Like full on bitch, and I wouldn't blame my then-friends for admitting it. It's when I think about the concept of "childhood" that I can pull out a yellow-colored memory of happiness that is separate from the concept of "Los Alamos."
Lately though, I guess I've started to let some of it go, as now my aforementioned issues have manifested themselves in both high school and university conflicts, and it's always a new way of dealing with my overwhelming self. But I'd like to think that now I know. It's really an issue with getting too close ...as cliche as that sounds, but it's a real concept - I'm sure of it. Middle school has become less of an awful memory and just a plain awkward experience (if you think I'm awkward now...holy shit, let's not talk about those pre teen days). It's interesting to see the people I used to know pop up on my newsfeed every so often, odd that we've somehow collected each other in the excitement of social media and now have a way of following life events without actually speaking. Interesting that the more unexplained posts I see, the more I feel both guilty and kind of content (not even sure that's the right word). Guilty because I had managed to totally fuck up so many relationships. Kind of content (still not sure that's the right word) because there's this vague feeling that if I or the other person decided to say "Hey, let's catch up," it would be totally okay. Probably because we are all 10+ years removed from the drama that was all of middle school. Or probably because they are like me: prone to forgetting the details and willing to bury it all.
I think when I really consider it, I've almost lost 90% of the friends I keep today. I do also think there is something fundamentally wrong with me. But if middle school served me any purpose at all, it is to remind me that I absolutely will be sad if he/she/it steps out of my life. Don't let momentary anger determine those long term things. Be better at keeping in touch. Don't just care more; show it. Apologize; just do it, if you know you're wrong or even if you think you're right.
So I'm sorry for the things I've said and the way I've behaved when I was inflicted by yet another "mood." I like to keep special memories tucked away in a place reserved for "the best thing someone has done for me" - there are only a couple that are not of the stayed-up-late-to-talk or covered-for-me variety that people generally expect from a friendship package.
Another cold morning waiting outside the school for the first bell when my closest friends whisper to each other and disappear, leaving me with friend-acquaintances. I remember feeling a mix of sadness and anger and betrayal until the bell rang, and I went in and saw my locker decorated for my birthday, which is always lost in the excitement of winter break. Thanks guys. Really.
All this coming at a time when Miss Nansy wants to wine and cheese over our life stories. It hasn't happened yet, and I suppose I've got some thinking and choosing to do as far as what stories to tell, but it's a cute idea, like digging up time capsules buried in your memories.
All this coming at a time when we are moving on and out...and I have this desire to hear about everyone's plans and ambitions and lives in general.
All this coming at a time for families and friends and loving and warmth and happiness.
Happy Holidays from Cancun!
(This is probably as cheesy and deep as I'm going to get here.)
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