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| I might have preemptively commemorated it on the calendar |
Yesterday afternoon I wrote my final exam
for my final high school course in the history of ever. I am done. Finished. Mission
accomplie.
After it was over, I went back to my car,
sat there for a few minutes, and cried.
Then some dude walked by and looked a
little concerned. So I panicked and pretended I was laughing, which actually
just made me look a whole lot crazier.
And just when you thought it couldn't get
worse, I was at a stoplight on the drive home and realized - truly realized - that
I had actually just completed something really important to me. So then I cried
again, but this time while yelling "YEAAAAAHHHHH!!" and "WOOOOOOOOOO!" and fist
pumping like every suburban mom does on her drive home.
If there is not a newly minted YouTube
video entitled "This insane woman in Ottawa traffic, though," I will
be shocked. (And grateful.)
As I once shared, I have been to eight
different high schools. Eight. Yet,
I still entered adulthood a few credits short of a diploma. And there I sat,
rather uncomfortably, for two decades.
Just like herpes, the knowledge that I had
never finished high school would lay dormant, flaring up at the most
inconvenient times, like when I tried to tell myself that I'm smart, or worthy
of good things, or in any way accomplished in life.
You
didn't even finish high school, Amanda. Everybody
finishes high school - well, except you, apparently.
It was a shame that hung off me like a
sandbag, weighing me down emotionally my entire life. Despite my best efforts
to tell myself I was just as good as anyone else, just as smart and just as
accomplished in other ways, I felt like I was walking in other people's
shadows. It's one thing to have never gone to university; I know plenty of
people who haven't and are quite successful. But not having a high school
diploma? Why couldn't I at least do that?
I know, I know. I have a backstory. I had
to leave school at 14 to go to rehab for six months. I lived on my own at 16. I
got pregnant at 19.
Then again at 26.
Oh, and at 30. My husband and
I apparently really like each other.
My days got full and busy and good. In so
many ways, I have a great life. I've been a homeowner since the age of 22. I
write for a living. I've stayed home to raise three of the best kids I know. I'm
still madly in love with the father of my children. I've cultivated some truly
amazing friendships. If happiness determines success, then it's been an utterly
successful life.
But deep down, there has always been a part
of me that felt stuck. I still felt like that girl who never finished something
important. And so, in the summer of 2013, I grabbed my transcripts and signed
up again.
I don't know what was different about this
time, other than the fact that I have great hair now and I'm a little bit
fatter. But I walked out of the school after registering, thinking that this
was going to be the biggest thing I would accomplish in the next little while.
News flash: In case
you haven't been reading my blog regularly, this was NOT the biggest thing I
would be accomplishing in the next little while.
In fact, I had no idea what the following year
would bring. I didn't know my child is trans. I didn't know she was going to
come out to us two days before I was due to write my grade 11 English exam. I
didn't know how stressed out and worried I would be, how much advocating I
would have to do, or that I would be homeschooling her this year.
If I had known, I never would have signed
up. Never, ever, ever. So I suppose it was a really good thing I didn't know.
I almost quit. After Gutsy came out, I felt
so overwhelmed that I made the decision to take a hiatus. Some friends convinced
me to keep going. I was a little mad at them for a while. I thought they were
total jerks for pushing me forward at a time when I felt I couldn't breathe. Didn't
they understand how stressed out I was? Jerks.
I decided to take the hiatus anyway, and
called guidance to push my final two courses aside for a few months. She must
have been talking to my jerk friends, because she also encouraged me to stick
it out. What was this conspiracy? I resented the shit out of them all for
encouraging the little bit of guilt inside me to finally see this goal through.
Thank you, jerks. You're the best
conspirators a girl could ask for. I wouldn't be done if it weren’t for you. I
might have never been done. I owe a lot of this to you.
I also need to thank Ryan, my favourite
adult high school teacher. I'm pretty sure he doesn't read my blog, but he
still gets a mention. He is not a jerk
like the rest of you guys. Ryan, thanks for your patience, understanding,
humour, and for not totally hating on me because I'm a writer in a high school
English class. I know how eccentric we can be. Confession time: I despite
literary essays and reading Shakespeare. I never told you that. But pretty much
everyone on Twitter knows, thanks to my 140 character rants. Those things make
me die a little inside, Ryan. But you know, if I had to analyze the thoughts
and feelings of King Lear to get a high school diploma, I'm glad it was for you
because you're awesome. And totally not a jerk. Please remember that when
you're correcting my last few assignments.
Thank you to my husband, who made it
entirely possible for me to be a woman of leisure/mature student/homeschooling
parent/writer/painting/photographer/not really a woman of leisure after all.
But your constant support, both emotionally and financially, made this possible
for me. I love you, and can now analyze my feelings for you in a more educated
way and even write an essay about it. But I won't.
But I
could.
Thank you to my friends and family who
cheered me on, including 80 bajillion of you (I did not take any advanced math
courses) who congratulated me after I posted this Facebook status. Wow. You're
amazing. And internet people I have yet to meet? You're amazing too. How many of you have
virtually high-fived me over the last few months? (That's a rhetorical
question. I learned about those in school. Please take my excellent retention
into account when grading my papers, Ryan. Thanks.)
And a very special thanks to my kids, who met
me at the door with hugs while excitedly shouting "congratulations!" (and
"merry birthday" and "Happy Hanukkah"... sigh.) as I walked in after my exam. I'll remember that, always. I love you all so
much, and I hope you carry this important lesson with you: it's never too late
to follow your dreams or meet a goal, even if you're already exceptionally
awesome like me, your gorgeous mother.
I feel lighter today. Definitely not
physically lighter after binging on celebratory cake last night, but
emotionally so. I completed a lifelong goal! And while I know it's not a big
deal in terms of overall accomplishment (pretty much everyone finishes high
school and most of them far sooner than I did), I'm still so proud of myself.
I finished something. Take that, box of scrapbooking supplies in the basement.
I am a high school graduate. I finally did
it.
With great hair, even.