Regrets Aplenty

So they’re starting to plan my 30’Th high school reunion. I assume it’ll be held Thanksgiving weekend and what’s that, eight months away? I bring it up, to once again, talk about what a freak I am. I’m already starting to stress out about the whole concept of going. I mean, come on, It’s February and I’m losing sleep over something that’s not gonna happen for another eight months?

I’ve been talking to a few people about the event and it’s so different the way they feel about it than I do. You can hear the excitement in their voices when speaking about it. They talk of how they can’t wait to see everyone. I get that, I really do. I, however, am not quite sure what words describe how I’m feeling about it. To say I’m scared is a major understatement. Ridiculous I know, but what can I tell you. I get nauseous just thinking about it.

I am now in contact with many of the folks that were in my graduating class and seem to be getting along splendidly with everyone, even those I had little or nothing to do with back then. I don’t think that’s so much the problem. Then again, of course it is. I mean obviously, as we all do, I automatically compare myself to these folks and when I do, well, let’s just say I’m not real proud of where I stand.

I didn’t finish school the “normal” way. I had missed so much of my senior year because of different illnesses that I had to drop out unless I wanted to do the year over again. I took my G.E.D. the day after I left O.P.H.S. and took a few courses at the local community college. I’m not sure if I would have ever gone to a university even if I had graduated with my class, I just never really liked school. Honestly, I don’t know how or what I would have gone into even if I had gone. Since my mid teens, after the pro baseball fantasy went away, I’ve never really had a goal or profession that I ever wanted to shoot for.

I moved to California after a year of living in East Lansing and going to another community college and did little to find a real profession while there. I started working for a grocery chain out there and, to paraphrase a Joe Jackson song, got to like it. I stuck around there for almost 25 years. I ended up going into management and did that, among other things, until my divorce. I’ve had a number of opportunities over the years to further my career in the retail management profession but my own fears, not my abilities, have stopped me.

The fears, though sometimes silly, have been with me for as long as I can remember. I look back at so many instances in my life where any kind of courage on my part would have or could have made a significant difference in the way my life has gone. I remember these instances so clearly and regret so many of those decisions that to count them would take more time than anyone has. Suffice it to say that having made different choices when the time came would have put me in a much different place both personally and professionally than where I’m at today. I know that can also be said about anyone but I don’t know their lives, only mine.

When given the opportunity to change gears or move forward with whatever company I was working for I always found reasons to step aside. Whatever the reason I gave it most certainly was just an excuse. It all goes back to that being “found out” thing I’ve written about in the past. Again, I don’t know exactly what it is that could be found out but whatever it is I think I’m more afraid of what I’ll find than what others would. I think that fear has shown itself in my writing of late too. Sometimes I think I really don’t want to “find” me anymore. what if I found that I like myself even less while doing this digging than I do now? Not sure if there’s a real answer for that one.

Man, I went way off topic here didn’t I?