Freud wrote that humans have an unconscious need to repeat early trauma. He named this tendency the repetition compulsion. Maybe that’s why they invented high school class reunions?
Wendell and I’s 60th class reunion was May 29 at the park in State Center, Iowa. While he has known most of them since kindergarten, I only joined the class when our schools merged in the final nine months of my senior year. I have probably spent more time with them at class reunions over the years than in actual high school!
You would think that I might have grown accustomed to being with them over the years, but I still feel awkward at times. Maybe this is trauma I’m repeating? During my senior year, I was in a state of perpetual anxiety, worried that I wouldn’t fit in, that I would forget someone’s name, and so on. This was all built on top of a childhood fear I developed when I felt forgotten at age six when siblings began to be born. Who would I be if I was not my mother’s sole companion?
Mom loved fashion and dressing me up. We didn’t have much money, so she would keep an eye on sales: when Younker’s advertised clothing at 75% off we would get in the car and go. It’s not surprising to me that I wanted to wear something special for my 60th class reunion, and that I wanted help choosing an outfit. I was chuckling when I phoned Mary at Silver Fox, an upscale clothing store. It seemed hilarious and, if I really thought about it, heart-breaking to me that I would need help picking out what to wear to my 60th class reunion.
Younker’s closed its doors long ago, and my mother passed away as well. I no longer am limited to the 75% off clothes rack. But I still like having someone with me as I choose outfits. Mary is brilliant and very observant. She showed me three outfits she picked out based on personas she has witnessed me donning over the years. The first was an outfit communicating professional psychotherapist. It featured a white blazer and I imagined myself at the podium describing my memoirs. I put on the blazer and while it fit and looked snazzy, it didn’t feel like me anymore. I took it off.
The second outfit honored the ordinary Iowa farm girl in me. I pulled on a pair of well-fitting floral-print slacks and a white fleece top. I felt comfortable. But when I thought about walking into the gathering wearing it, I wasn’t thrilled.
Finally, there was an outfit that tickled my writer/artist self. The slacks were linen and had stripes of lime green and cream while the top was lime green. When I stepped into the slacks and swished on the top, I knew this was the outfit I had been looking for.
During the reunion, I didn’t feel awkward. I didn’t worry about how I looked. I spoke to most everyone. I felt like myself.
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