class of 2006

It’s 2012 and we’re just over half way done with it, this means that in less than 4 years it’s my 10 year high school reunion…

OH MY STARS?! 4 years to go? Are you kidding me? Well… I better make something of myself.

In matric I wrote myself a letter to open 5 years from matriculation, in it was the usual: feelings, hopes, dreams and wishes. Well I can tell you that I am SO glad I see a psychiatrist now! Shoo, and again – I’M SORRY MOM! Wow I was a terrible teen. In my defense it wasn’t REALLY my fault though, had my parents had me diagnosed at an earlier age a whole lot of hell could have been avoided.

Well where I saw myself in 5 years (pretty much now) is very different from where I actually am. I saw myself with a degree, studied and accomplished; a paramedic working on the oil rigs – and I had a full ride to (literally). And had I not gotten myself “knocked up” by that stupid british brat I would be there right now.

But then again… earning a few hundred thousand a month on an oil rig has a tough time weighing up to my son running and wrapping his arms around me telling me how much he loves me.
So I might not be where I pictured myself and I might not be ecstatic about my current situation BUT I have a house of my own, a child who adores me, a car, work (occasionally) that pays for the necessities and I have my studies.

In 4 years’ time it’s our matric reunion; will I be where I want to be? Will I be working as a psychologist on an island somewhere and homeschooling my son? Who knows… But wherever I am I’ll make it work for me and I’ll walk into that reunion with my head held high. I might not be who I set out to be but at the end of the day I am ME and not some society molded skaapie trying to impress everyone.

Though… it would be pretty awesome to pitch up there with one hell of a yummy on my arm and a BA to my name ;)

A little nostalgic moment: our valedictory song 


2 thoughts on “class of 2006

  1. I did not make my 10 year reunion as I was off “galavanting around the world”. Or at least that was what my excuse was. It sounded a lot better than the fact that I was broke, in London earning minimum wage and could barely afford the bus to work the next day never mind a flight home.

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