Patinated Ponies

Don’t Hold Grudges

My high school five year reunion was this past weekend. I had a lot to do here in the ville, so I didn’t go. And part of me was relieved.  I hated high school.  I’ve blamed it on my parents and I’ve blamed on the people that walked the halls with me.  The people who were so busy fighting over custody hours that they didn’t even see me, and the shallow rich snobs that didn’t look twice at the girl in the old navy polo shirt.

And I’m embarrassed that I don’t have a job yet.  And that I’m ballooning at a seemingly unstoppable rate because I haven’t had time to shower some weeks I’ve been so busy this year, let alone have time to go to the gym.  The work above my head is stunning me into inaction, as is the constant dread of the day it will fall.

Lately, I’ve only talked to one person from high school.  He’s my oldest friend, and we weren’t even close in high school.  We were talking about it one day this summer, and I was telling him how I didn’t have any friends back then, how it had been so awful.  And instead of getting aboard my little pity train, he told me exactly what I’ve needed to hear: “Don’t hold a grudge.”

I’ve become very aware that the times I’ve been the most crushingly unhappy are moments I’ve brought upon myself.  I’ve internalized, I’ve overanalyzed, and I’ve fixated.  I’ve been mad at the beautiful skinny girls, when really I was mad at myself for snacking every night and burying myself in my schoolbooks.  I’ve been mad at my roommates who are noisy when I can’t sleep instead of being mad at myself for not being out.  I’ve been mad at my friends who don’t like bars when really, I’m mad at myself because I don’t have the courage to go out by myself.

I’m sick of holding grudges. I’m sick of blaming other people for my unhappiness. And now I just have myself to focus on. It seems like just another huge bullet on my to-do list, but I need to start checking things off.