High School Drama- 30's Later

I was having a "discussion" with my FB friends about Junior high and High school, the hurts, the scars we all still carry. Their perception of me, and mine of them are so different from how we perceived ourselves. When we are young we are all so buried, mired in our in our heads, thoughts and feelings we didn't even see the others suffering the same afflictions. I never knew what was going on with the other people in my class. I didn't know who was gay, straight, bullied, or just trying to desperately find their way clear to adulthood. In truth I never noticed anything, but what I was going through, except for maybe my closest friends. I figured the cheerleaders got the guys, the brains got the grades, the jocks got the attention, everybody got what they wanted, except me. I look back on that now and see how ridiculous it is to think that, but the Breakfast Club movie didn't come out until after I had graduated, so my perspective hadn't been altered.
It turns out everyone was insecure, everyone had gotten bullied by somebody, everyone felt like and outsider, everyone got hurt, stomped on or just ignored. Each of us so unique in our own experience had a mutual coming of age. We each suffered from devastating disappointments. Each of us had our own battles to fight, in order to become who we are today.
Having my own kids, older now, I see how they too, have had to wage their own battles in order to grow. They were perceived as something they are not. Their biggest judge, jury and executioner, is themselves. I can only conclude from this that some things never change.
In a different discussion with a different friend we talked about memories and how we remember those visceral moments of hurt, failure, anger, or joy. They are reinforced in several sections of the brain which makes them easier to recall. As if by request we re-live moments of pain and happiness, reinforcing them over and over. I notice so much of the reinforcement is of the hurt, the pain someone or thing has caused, or even the self inflicted wounds, the very deep injuries with the largest scars. I recall joy, but the hurts seem right there on the surface, so they are the ones who bubble to the top faster. Joy and happiness seems to me to take a little longer to reach the surface. I wondered about that, even though I am pretty sure it is because of the emotional wincing we do that reinforces the negative more.
Remember the last time you laughed so hard you couldn't catch your breath? Yeah, me neither, but I can tell you to the minute the last time I embarrassed myself so badly my cheeks burned like a fire.
The FB discussion then led to the admission on my part of selective memory. I try really hard to forget all the incredibly stupid things I did when I was young. I have tried to learn the necessary lessons to not repeat my mistakes and the rest I would rather not dwell on. Those moments of regret lead to nothing for me. Once I have changed course and directed my life to go another way, I am not sure what purpose there is in reliving all my mistakes. Except of course, to feel bad about myself, and to be perfectly honest, I am tired of doing that too. I had spent years beating myself up over stupid things I have done to the point where it practically paralyzed me. All it did was feel like I had wasted valuable time. Time I almost didn't get to have. My "near death experiences" taught me this singularly most important fact: evolve or perish. In order for me to truly appreciate my time on earth it was/is imperative to keep moving forward, learning, forgiving, letting go of what does not matter and maintain what does. Not everybody gets the benefit of almost dying twice. I guess, I am just lucky that way. When I didn't learn the lesson the first time, I was fortunate to get it again.
My high school years taught me some great things, like how to drive, survive a food fight and do what I wanted in spite of what others thought. It also taught me what cruelty is in it's most primal sense. I saw first hand what man's inhumanity to man looked like. Seeing it, experiencing the visceral nature of it, led me to a place where I am seeking a life far greater than I could have ever dreamed for myself, especially back then.
My thirtieth reunion is coming up this year. I remain in shock that time has flown as fast as it has, but here we are thirty years after the fact. We have all changed. We have witnessed tragedy, miracles, hate and love. We have born the brunt of apathy, bigotry, impatience, impertinence, and cowardice. The fascination then lies in what we have, as a collective group, done with our life's experiences. When the reunion comes along, I hope to be surrounded by my classmates, listening to their stories. We'll laugh as we do now when we join in group discussions online,but we will have the opportunity to hug, look each other in the eyes and send the message: I know what you have seen, what I have seen, and together we will make this world a better place than when we found it.