I've been left out of the reunion for years...

...and today's the day I stop caring

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My sorority sisters from college get together every year in a fun location to hike, eat, hang out, and connect. They put photos on Facebook of all their time together: matching hats, drinks on a lake, mountaintop hikes.

Without me.

I was invited at the beginning, 20 years ago, and I went once. It was a big group (I’m an introvert), a lot of drinking (I’m sober), and shared rooms (I need space). I was also in the grip of post-partum depression and really not myself. I was struggling, and I needed ony my closest people around me. It was a hard weekend, too long, and totally exhausting.

I was on the email list for the next few years and never went.

Someone took me off the list.

Those photos every single year are a trigger; a reminder of being uninvited, left out, and of not belonging in a group I really wanted to belong to. They are cool women, from all over, smart and accomplished with interesting experiences and careers.

But do I really want to go? No. I don’t think so. I do, however, want first right of refusal. I want to be included. I wanted to be liked by this group of women that I used to be friends with, 35 years ago, when I was literally a different person.

When I was in high school I never really felt like I fit in. I wasn’t funny enough, thin enough, fun enough. That insecurity was just deep within me. In fact, I drank to overcome that and that caused problems of its own.

Being left out, even at 55, is a trigger back to that very hard time.

Fast forward to now. I have very close friends, I’m part of the events I actually want to be a part of, and if I don’t get invited, I make no assumptions about why they didn’t want me there. But that just doesn’t happen that much anymore because I know who my people are. I fit in.

I saw a quote in Instagram last week (source of all wisdom) that stopped me in my tracks, in a good way.

So what if I could just accept, forever, that when I’m not included, the truth is that they just aren’t my people? That if I were to get invited and if I were to choose to go, I’d come home exhausted or frustrated or somewhat empty? And then what if I had no reason to dig into the facebook photos, obsess about why I wasn’t included, and feel bad about myself?

And what if that was totally OK?

It’s just bullshit to spend another moment on this, but somehow I suspect many of us do. Especially when social media highlights how much fun they had without you.

Today, I’m going to celebrate the groups I AM a part of, the groups I’ve created or been invited to, and the events where I feel deeply included.

I still sometimes think of those groups that I think I want to be a part of but no longer care to spend the energy trying to find the price of entry.

I’m not 19 anymore.

As the kids say today to express indifference, "It's like whatever."

Thanks, Instagram. I think I can finally let this one go.

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