What I Learned at a Wedding

This past weekend, Dear Husband and I went away without the boys for the first time since before Little Man’s diagnosis. We went to the wedding of a couple of treasured friends from our DC days, which was attended by even MORE treasured DC friends, many of whom have spread to the winds and have moved all over the country, just like us. It gave us the opportunity to reflect on all of the versions of ourselves we’ve been since then.

When we lived there, we were in our mid to late 20s. I was in the best shape of my life and had little idea of what I wanted to be when I grew up, but I worked lots of jobs and did them the best I could. This was the version they met, these beautiful friends. They also knew me as I evolved into the person who could no longer stand DC and had to get the heck out of there. She was probably kind of a pain in the butt to them, but they stuck by her. When I became a new mom and hid from the world due to being completely overwhelmed by these new responsibilities, they visited or called and didn’t get mad when this one didn’t always answer. When I progressed into the mom of a toddler trying to figure out who the heck she was again, they were there to remind her, this flailing, failing, fumbling version, of the friend they loved who was still in there. We all struggled during the pandemic, but we held each other up. And then cancer happened to our family, which wrought its biggest changes in me since puberty, if I had to really put a fine point on it.

So this latest version of me, who hadn’t seen all of these friends in person since before April 2022 when our world shifted, was going to be out in the world, without kids, who can sometimes be a shield to hide our new selves behind if we’re not paying attention. I (not she, not a thing of the past) was nervous. Nope, I was scared. I was scared to leave the boys, and I was scared to be a whole person on my own again.

Maybe it makes some sense that there’s fear involved in revisiting friends from the past. We’ve all grown and changed of course, but would they still like this person I’ve become? This sadder, calmer, slower version? Would it be ok that my wild only lasted so long, or that when they asked how I was doing, the conversation wouldn’t be entirely positive from start to finish? Turns out, these are some good people I’ve been friends with for all these years. What a relief because that would’ve made for a real bummer of a weekend. When they asked how we were, they expected to hear about the downs as well as the ups because they knew the story. When they asked how treatment was going or how Little Man was doing, they really wanted to know details. And we had a great time. The 20-something version of me came out to dance for a few hours and turn her feet black after her shoes became too much of a burden. Then 20-something me retreated and almost-40 me was in bed by 11pm. (Aside: there should be dance parties that start at 7pm, play 90s and 2000s bangers and end by 10pm.)

I think the point of this is that the fun, young version is still in there, along with the annoying DC-hating version and the athlete version and the new mom version and the toddler mom version. The other amazing thing I learned this weekend is that this depth, allowing all of the versions to be there at the same time, layered on top of one another to make me a whole person, helped me feel actual confidence, not feigned or temporary, but confidence that is sticking. So all of a sudden, I am new again. This confident me used the lessons from all of the layers to know herself and be content. What a crazy freaking turn of events! I came home to my sweet family a new mash-up of fun and calm after a reminder of all of the forgotten layers I had earned through experience.

Let me end by saying I’m thankful for these friends, as well as for my newer friends, and for my even older friends who’ve known me since high school or even earlier. Thinking of all of these versions I’ve been and the people who’ve been around to witness them, I just feel lucky.