Looking Back, Moving Forward

Nostalgia and Regret

Middle age has me feeling nostalgic—a little yearning, perhaps, to have another shot at it all, even though I know that’s not realistic. People often say they have no regrets, but what if I admit that I do? Am I one of the few?

The High School Hustle

Almost 25 years ago, I was fully immersed in my senior year, doing everything possible to secure a scholarship and get into a good college. I dreamed of being an actress, so I threw myself into every arts-related extracurricular: musicals, choir, plays, and forensics. My goal was simple: achieve, then achieve more, until I reached the top. But I was constantly in competition, not just with others but with myself.

With an almost perfect GPA, I found myself lumped in with the “smart kids”—that superhuman clique of students who seemed to excel at everything. Top scholars, top athletes, top performers. Yet, I always felt like an outsider. I was book smart and worked hard to succeed, but I lacked the natural, almost genius-like abilities that my peers had. They shined effortlessly. I was always pushing for what little space was left.

Reopening Old Memories

These memories came rushing back as my 25th reunion approaches. Nearly 25 years gone, and I’m starting to look back. One realization struck me: I never bought my yearbook that final year.

At the time, jealousy and frustration colored my view of that book. It symbolized all the missed opportunities, the roles I didn’t get, the popularity I didn’t achieve. I wasn’t in many photos, I wasn’t the lead in anything, I wasn’t a valedictorian, and I didn’t get the big scholarship. I was close to the top, but I never quite made it.

Now, as a forty-something adult, those thoughts seem a little silly. In high school, I was so focused on what I hadn’t achieved that I missed out on enjoying that fleeting time. I let perfectionism rule my life, when I could have embraced the freedom of youth. Back then, the expectations of others felt overwhelming, and they steered me toward practicality: a journalism degree instead of my dream.

The Yearbook Rediscovered

But back to that yearbook—I finally decided to buy a reprint, 25 years later, to see if those feelings still lingered. Flipping through the pages, I found traces of that old jealousy. The same top students dominated the photos, filling pages with their accomplishments. Out of curiosity, I looked up those seven standout students. Were they still at the top? In most cases, yes—they were lawyers, doctors, financiers, even a hedge fund VP. They were every bit as accomplished as I once thought they’d be.

And yet, seeing this didn’t hurt like I thought it might. Instead, I felt a strange sense of peace. I realized it no longer mattered. Comparing myself to them had held me back for so long, and I finally felt the weight lift. In fact, I discovered something surprising: I’d won an English department award in high school, one for excellence in research and writing. I didn’t remember it, and I certainly hadn’t valued it then.

Discovering My True Passion

My dream was to act, and when that didn’t work out, I shifted to broadcasting. I was still chasing validation, hoping to stand out. But with writing, I found a different satisfaction—a quieter, more lasting one. In the past few years, I’ve embraced my love for writing again, just as I did back then, only now I’m able to see its value.

Looking Forward, Letting Go

So yes, I have regrets. I regret letting perfectionism and competition consume me back then. It’s cost me time and peace, focusing on why I wasn’t like others instead of leaning into my own strengths. But I don’t want to look back anymore. After too much time spent reliving old memories, I’m finally ready to move on.

Here’s to living the next half of my life without regrets. Here’s to letting go of the past and living for myself.