Showing Up Anyway

Note from Jamie

I like to share things that light me up, fill me with joy, and make my life easier. Nothing is sponsored. These are just things that are helping me along my journey.

Showing Up Anyway

My 30th high school reunion was this past Saturday, and I almost didn’t go.

I had been at a Nourish event all day and, just minutes before I was supposed to leave, I seriously considered changing into pajamas and calling it a night. But I showered, got ready again, and headed out.

And, of course, getting ready for a second time in one day came with its own set of challenges.

My eyes were irritated from doing my makeup twice and were watering constantly. I could only get eyeliner to stay on about half of my lower eye because my tears kept washing it away. My hair was flat. I was bloated. And the dress I had originally picked out suddenly felt like something I would be too self-conscious to wear.

So I went with option #3—a dress I’ve had for years that isn’t necessarily in “my colors.” The saving grace? It was red and white, my high school colors, with a little bit of blue mixed in. In other words, yes… I wore my Fourth of July dress to my high school reunion. 😂

When I envisioned walking into my 30th reunion, I had a very specific picture in my head.

I wanted people to think, “Wow. Time has been good to her.”

I imagined dark, perfectly trimmed eyebrows. Flawless makeup. Tan skin. A beautiful black dress—the color I know looks good on me.

Instead, I walked through the door with a paper towel in hand to dab my runny eyes, flat hair, and my Fourth of July dress.

And you know what?

I’m so glad I went.

One of my classmates owns a bar on Brady Street and hosted the 35 of us who showed up. And it was SO MUCH FUN.

It was wonderful to see people I hadn't seen in 30 years. People cheered when classmates arrived. We hugged. We laughed. We told stories. And for the most part, everyone looked…pretty much the same. (Although we did have plenty of laughs about what 30 years does to your eyesight, your joints, and pretty much everything else!)

Some of my favorite friends from elementary school through high school were there. I reconnected with people I hadn't seen in decades. One friend and I already have lunch scheduled for next week. Another classmate lives just minutes from me, and I've started biking to her house for morning coffee.

But one of the most meaningful parts of the evening was remembering Becky, one of our classmates who passed away last year—the same day my sister, Jenny, passed away.

A group of us remembered both of them. We each wore an accessory that belonged to the beloved person we had lost. We shared stories about the treasured charms we were wearing and talked about Becky and Jenny, both of whom knew they were going to die and had thoughtfully designed the end of their lives.

There was something incredibly beautiful about being able to talk about them so openly.

And something else struck me that night.

We talked a little about our kids, but mostly, we asked about the family members we knew growing up.

We didn't ask about professions.

We didn't ask about titles.

We didn't ask how much money anyone was making.

We didn't ask for any measure of success.

We simply enjoyed being together.

And honestly? It was refreshing.

Because how often do we spend our days measuring ourselves—and allowing ourselves to be measured—by what we accomplish, what we look like, what we have, what we do, or how successful we appear to be?

Yet here we were, 30 years later, and none of that seemed to matter.

What mattered was that we had known each other.

That we had shared a chapter of our lives.

That we remembered each other's parents, siblings, childhood homes, inside jokes, and teenage versions of ourselves.

That we could laugh together again.

I realized that I had spent too time worrying about how I would look when I walked through that door.

But nobody cared.

They were just happy I was there.

And maybe that's one of the lessons I'm taking with me from this reunion:

Sometimes showing up imperfectly is so much better than not showing up at all.

I almost let tiredness, self-consciousness, flat hair, watery eyes and the wrong dress keep me from experiencing something really special.

Instead, I showed up exactly as I was.

And I was welcomed with hugs, laughter, memories and a whole lot of love.

I could only stay for about two hours because I had a farmers market the next morning and needed my sleep. As I said my goodbyes, my classmates called me "Cinderella" as I headed home for the night. 😂

And as I drove home, I felt incredibly grateful.

Grateful for the people who knew me when I was young.

Grateful for the friendships that are still there after three decades.

Grateful for the people who helped shape who I became.

And grateful for the reminder that we don't have to wait until we look perfect, feel perfect, or have everything figured out to show up and enjoy our lives.

So, friends, if you ever have the opportunity to attend a high school reunion—or really, any kind of reunion—I encourage you to go.

Even if you're tired.

Even if your hair won't cooperate.

Even if your eyeliner is literally running down your face.

Even if you're wearing your Fourth of July dress in August. 😂

Go.

There is something incredibly special about coming back together with people from your past and seeing the lives they've created—their families, their traditions, their stories, their joys, and their losses.

Sometimes, you only need two hours to remember where you've come from and feel grateful for the people who helped you become who you are.

Cheers to the Class of 1996! ❤️

May the next 30 years be very good to you.

xoxo,

Jamie

Inspiration

Nourish Pick of the Week

Root Chakra Blend w/ Garnet Crystals

Sometimes, going back to where you came from reminds you of where you belong. ❤️

Our Root Chakra Roller Blend with Garnet Crystals is a beautiful reminder to feel grounded, secure, and connected.

Roll it on over your tailbone or whenever you need a little encouragement to come back to yourself and remember: you are right where you’re meant to be.

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