A Surprising Reconnection
I recently reconnected with an old school friend who had learned about my MS diagnosis after 11 years. We never fell out with each other. There were no handbags at dawn or Mean Girls-style antics. We just drifted apart from each other. The last day of secondary school is full of shirt signing and promising that we’d all remain firm friends forever, but life had other plans. I was shocked to discover that this particular friend had never known about my MS. I wrongly assumed that most people from my local area knew about it but how could they have known when I kept it under wraps for so many years. Shame is a powerful invisibility cloak that even Harry Potter would envy.
The Invitation
The next thing I knew, a Facebook invite appeared promising a house party reminiscent of our Y2K hay day! Leading up to our school reunion get together, I started to feel nervous. I hadn’t seen these particular school friends since the time of my sudden diagnosis over a decade ago. I was a different person. They knew a version of me that no longer existed. The version of me that they knew was destined for a life full of promise.
A Trip Down Memory Lane
The memories and blue WKD started to flow. I suddenly felt like it was 2007 with thicker brows and thinner phones. All we were missing was a cloud of Davidoff Coolwater and scrunch dried hair. We might be all grown up, but some things hadn’t changed. We cackled over memories of transition year trips, embarrassing teenage crushes and a Vice Principal with a penchant for giving detention to girls who wore oversized hoop earrings to school.
Reflections
My old school friends reminded me of who I was but more importantly, who I had become in their absence. 11 years ago, we reached a fork in the road and I was rerouted on a different path to them. I look back now and realise that I should have reached out and given certain people the chance to help me. Instead, I was this juxtaposition of being too proud to ask for help while being too ashamed to receive it. It saddens me to think that I missed out on who they were for the past decade and that they had missed out on who I was destined to become.
Lessons from Buddhism
When I was in the thick of it during those initial few years post diagnosis, I read a lot of books about Buddhism. Buddhists describes holding onto anger like holding onto hot coals. At times in life, all we want to do is throw our anger at someone else but who gets hurt first as we hurl our rage at an unsuspecting victim. I’ve realised in recent years that I spent far too long holding onto those hot coals. They weighed me down and they caused me such emotional turmoil.
One Night in 2007
For one night only it felt like 2007 had returned to a quiet cul-de-sac in Blanchardstown. For a brief moment, we were no longer property owners, parents or working professionals. We were just a bunch of school friends hanging out in a free gaff while our parents were away. Sometimes you have to take a look in the rear-view mirror in order to move forward. Sometimes you’ll be surprised by who shows up in the reflection. Sometimes all it takes is Maniac 2000 playing in the background, a pair of hoop earrings and a reminder of the version of you that existed before MS entered the equation.
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