What We Can Learn from Our High School Traumas

All of us have some sort of trauma, ranging from the minute to the severe. The trauma that I'll be writing about here is my personal high school experience that I think many of you will relate to. I want this post to help others see that life beyond high school allows us to see how much we've grown, and reflect on past experiences with greater wisdom and appreciation. I don't write this for any pity; I want this to help readers feel less alone in their traumas and insecurities, and know that there is someone out there who empathizes with them. With that, I'll be walking you through specific traumas and what I've learned from them, in hopes that they will provide perspective for you and your own possibly difficult high school years.

If you've been reading my blog, you'll know that I'm quiet and reserved, especially when I'm in an environment where I don't know anyone. So, in class, I was usually the odd quiet girl who only spoke when the teacher asked her a question. I found it horrible to find a partner for a class project, and the teacher would often ask other students in the class if I could join their group. It certainly didn't feel great, to say the least. There were countless classes where I had zero friends, and would sit silently in the corner while everyone else talked amongst themselves; invited each other to hang out at such-and-such place; and gossiped about recent hook-ups. The absolute WORST was when we had class parties for holidays; I would sit alone at my desk, cookie on a napkin, trying not to cry while everyone else talked with their friends.

Me and my sister Keely on one of the greatest days of my young life - graduating from high school. Thank god I never have to go back.

For this experience, I'm so happy that I'm not in a place anymore where my confidence is so low that I can't talk to anyone. It still is difficult for me to initiate a conversation with someone at times, but my confidence level has improved ten fold thanks to college and beyond. I'm now more able to open up in front of others, especially in my acting classes, so people can see my sense of humor, kindness, and overall personality. I still feel awkward at parties when sober because I'm a full-blown introvert, but a litttttttttle bit of alcohol helps me open up. I wish, very cheesily, that I could go back to my school-age self and tell her that everything will be ok, and that I won't recognize myself in 10 years time.

The second experience is one that I admittedly still hold a lot of bitterness towards. I was in a dance class at school for my freshman and sophomore year, and during sophomore year there were three girls I knew fairly well. I had gone to elementary school for a few years with two of them, and the third girl I met in middle school. One day, when my best friend at the time was sick, I was nervous about being alone at lunch - but was happy to see the three girls from dance class sitting in front of the sophomore lockers. I decided I could sit with them, since we were friendly with each other. As I sat down with them, each one of them - one at a time - got up to leave within minutes of me joining them. I can't tell you how much that moment hurt, and still does, quite honestly. I tried so hard not to cry, and decided to seclude myself in the library as I asked myself what was so wrong with me.

Today, I'm happy I never have to see those girls again. I had never experienced such blatant rejection before, and still haven't. I don't know what I did or said that made them decide to make me feel unwanted to such an extreme, but honestly, I have a master's degree from UCL—and they don't. I've earned that degree and feel incredibly proud for having done so; I've traveled and met people in each country I've visited who've opened my eyes to new experiences and perspectives; I've become fluent in French thanks to living in Paris; I've enrolled in acting classes (which is something I had always wanted to do); and I'm constantly surprising myself with how much of a badass I am. So, fuck those girls. They can't touch this.

The third and final experience is one that I briefly mentioned in a previous post, but I'd like to detail it here. Similar to the second experience in feeling totally rejected, I had asked a guy friend of mine to meet me in my car at lunch to talk to him about something. During this time I was experiencing major anxiety—panic attacks, depression, everything. I knew it would soon become noticeable to my friends, so I wanted to tell them that if I'm acting different or strange, that that was the reason why. He showed up with two of his friends, but luckily they left quickly to do something else (I can't remember the reason). Within a few minutes I opened up to him, crying, saying how I wasn't doing well and that I'm sorry if I start acting like a bad friend because of my anxiety. His response: "Can you drive me to the pool parking lot." I sat stunned. "Is that all you have to say?" No response. I took a deep breath and dropped him off, then cried out of humiliation and shame as I drove myself home.

This experience showed me that this guy was never really my friend. We had bonded (I thought) so much together through endless hang-outs, lunches, sleepovers (he was gay), and the like—that I thought I could open up to him. I figured out soon enough that that wasn't the case. For a long time I was very much scarred from that experience, and told myself that I couldn't open myself up to friends because they might reject me. Thankfully therapy has taught me that it was that "friend" who was at the wrong, not me. My therapist told me that at the moment he said that, the benefit was that I knew he wasn't a true friend to me. She told me to look at that experience from a place of strength rather than victimhood, and I have to say that helped tremendously. Although I'm still hesitant opening up to friends about personal things, I know that if I ever receive a similar response like my "friend" in high school, that they are not my friend, and that I deserve far better.

I hope this article helps you reflect on your own high school traumas in a way that strengthens rather than weakens you. These certainly aren't the worst traumas to happen to someone by any means, but they still hurt and cause emotional scars. I'm still healing from situations like these, but with a greater sense of self-worth and self-love knowing how far I've come. With the help of therapy, school, and pushing myself in every way to get myself out of my comfort zone—I've found a confidence I've never known. I hope that each and every one of you finds that, too.