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There are essentially two types of individuals: those who cherish their old high school yearbooks and memorabilia, and those who promptly discard them. I fall into the latter category, and I have no regrets about my decision.
Over a decade ago, I threw away what I believe was the last of my yearbooks. If there happens to be another one hiding somewhere, feel free to toss it out too, Mom. This doesn’t mean that I’m devoid of sentimentality or that I don’t preserve parts of my past. I have a collection of photographs and boxes filled with newspaper articles, swimming trophies, and graduation cards. The key difference is that I deliberately chose these keepsakes. They represent the memories I value, curated with intention and nostalgia.
I also don’t wish to erase my past or the people in it. In fact, some of my closest friendships have lasted over 35 years. I harbor no animosities and have recently reconnected with some high school acquaintances in refreshing ways. This has been both exciting and rewarding.
The reality is, I am not the person I was during my high school years—not even close. None of us truly are. While some may be able to embrace their past with fondness and create their own “glory days,” I cannot. I don’t want to see photos of guys who made me uncomfortable or messages from girls who teased me in middle school. I have no desire to be reminded of awkward hairstyles or notes from past crushes who turned out to be anything but friends.
I assure you, my childhood wasn’t traumatic. I wasn’t bullied or ridiculed; I had a typical ’90s experience with homecomings, proms, and Friday night football games. Sure, there were moments so mortifying that I thought I might never leave my room again, but I’ve moved past them.
At my core, I have changed significantly. Growing up in a small, conservative town in Wisconsin shaped me, and looking back at those high school years triggers feelings I would rather not revisit. So, I decided it was time to part ways with those yearbooks.
Some people might ask, “Don’t you want your children to have memories of you?” My answer is a firm NO. I want to control the narrative of my life story, and discarding those yearbooks is a part of that process. They represent not just me, but also the people and experiences that shaped my environment.
The memories I wish to keep—those I want to share with my kids and, one day, my grandkids—are the ones that resonate with me personally. We are all on a journey of change and growth, striving to become better versions of ourselves over time. While some may find comfort in their childhood reminders, I prefer to be more selective about what I retain. If that means tossing my old yearbooks into the trash, then so be it.
For more insights on this topic, check out this excellent resource that discusses personal growth and self-reflection.