Prom was Last Night

PROM was Last Night        Shrink Rap with Dr. Laurie Johnson, LPC

I hope people read this.

I want to start off with a hook that makes everybody pause and read this but I don't have one. I don't have one, possibly because my heart is overriding my brain, and my brain was already sleep-deprived.

My heart is so full, but it overflows with tears as well as joy. I don't think I've ever felt so human--so vulnerably, exquisitely human. The last time I felt such joy, aside heavyheartedness, was at the funeral of my soul sister. I was so heartsick that cancer had taken Teri's life, yet so overwhelmed at the lives she had touched, evident by tons of people from all walks of life who crowded around her casket to be near her one last time.

Last night was Prom.

That may seem like a crazy juxtaposition to lots of readers, but I daresay not, to a lot of folks named Mom and Dad out there.

Next to Graduation, I can't think of another benign occasion that brings all the feels out and exposes every ounce of unfinished business and insecurity and delight and gut punch possible. For whom does it have that impact, you might ask? I dare say, for everybody…whether or not you even participated in Prom!

I dedicate this blog, to those who were brave enough to ask someone to Prom (even if you were bribed.) I equally dedicate it to everyone who accepted an invitation to Prom, who wanted an invitation to Prom that  didn’t come, to everyone who went to Prom solo, and to everybody who sat home that night either relieved to just chill out instead, or resigned to sit at home feeling miserably undesired.

 I also dedicate it to all the the parents out there, plus the loved ones who ached and angst'd to see that teen at home on Prom night, or  those who were proud to see that teen skip Prom, plus those who were busting at the seams to watch their son or daughter promenade, and those who spent the night getting texts about how dreadfully the night was going. I also dedicate this to the nonparents out there, for whom Prom brought up every itch that didn't get scratched back in High School. Or, since.

 Sheesh! What sadist thought up the idea of such a sexist, classist, rip your heart open, wonderful, terrible event that appears to define your spot in the pecking order? I want to give that person a hug, a slap, and then sit down for a long talk about how better it could have been thought out before it became the national Spring event that puts teens' and parents' hearts and souls in a blender! Knowing me, I'd probably suggest it could have gone better as a Sadie Hawkins with actual dance music that didn't cause loss of hearing, and a dress code that stretched from fancy to fanciful to fun. But, I digress. After all, Prom is an institution, right?

What kind of institution? Like many we could name, one that might have started with a good idea, that has overgrown itself to have powers never imagined. Am I making too much of it? I'm used to being told that. But then, for the last twenty-something years, I've heard the private sighs and seen the secret scars of people who bravely assemble the jigsaw puzzle of their lives in order to decide where to go next. Prom often surprises them, as the dark cloud or the shining sun, that set them up to view their value as a "desirable" or not. Five, ten, or twenty years after High School, nearly everyone has a story to tell about Prom. I daresay most of those stories have never been told, and exist as vague memories…until you have a teen or grandteen of age to go to Prom, and you recall what that rite of passage was for you.

For too many guys and girls (especially girls) Prom is not a rite of passage to adulthood. It is a wrong of passage, because it can wrongly define one's outlook. If you got to be a Prince and Princess for the night,  I hope you appreciate and treasure the sacrifices made by somebody, to provide the expensive gown, tux, limo, dinner, and let's be honest, hotel room. Unless you paid for those out of hard earned money, you have gotten your first taste of an elegance that is hard to finance. If all of that made you feel like a privileged insider, please know that insiders only exist when outsiders know their place. Might be a civics lesson worth learning in that, after the glow of Prom fades.

If you paid for elegance out of hard labor, I hope you felt like you got your money's worth. But, I dearly hope payback did not depend on a date feeling like she had to reciprocate with favors that left her feeling cheap this morning, rather than cherished.

If your folks went into hock to help finance the extravaganza, I hope the richness of your memories was not in the price tags and the jealous look of peers who saw the limo drive up. I hope it was in the tenderness of a smile, the chivalry that picked up the train of a gown away from a puddle, and a gaze into each other's soul, away from parents' cameras and peers' drama. One thing that life has taught me, is that you seldom get what you buy or bargain for, with money or with teenage hearts. Finding the gifts that have no price tag, and finding wonderful guy buddies and faithful girl buddies usually far surpasses the high dollar night and the hot crush. You may have won the lottery at Prom, with a hand-me-down dress and that buddy you friend zoned. Time will tell.

If you sat out Prom, by choice or default, I send you a hug. More people who went, had less of a good time, than they will admit. A few people had a great time, but no greater than if they'd gone bowling. Some had a miserable time. Some had a miserable time compounded with stupidity about drinking, and possibly drinking and driving. God help us if that becomes their blueprint for college life.

And some, took the Prom plunge and mistook the fact that they looked like handsome and beautiful adults, for being adults. Adults equipped with the emotional, psychological, and interpersonal strengths to handle having sex. After all, having sex, means having echoes and reverb. Reverb with friends and family and the future. Prom is supposed to be "that night," right? If it was, and it was wrong…I hurt for you. Grownups tend to focus on the question, "Is my teen ready for sex?" when the real question should be "Is my teen equipped for all that comes after having sex?" Just know this, cars and humans have a set of brakes for a reason. They also have a reverse gear, for a reason. And like in life, they have rearview mirrors. Don't get stuck looking into yours. Love yourself and more forward on the path that YOU choose. You know what is a tough truth about those guys and girls who want to choose your path for you? They usually don't walk along it with you, for long. Don't be their disposable.

Bottom line, is this. Prom, like life, can be wonderful, terrible, scary, and significant. But, please don't let it be a definition. Especially not the definition of who or what you were in High School.

Being popular, doesn't insure that you are kind or will be affectionately remembered. Being a loner, may mean the tribe you seek is just down the road. Being overlooked, puts you in one of the very best clubs I know. Do you really want to peak in High School? Nah, brah. Believe me, you don't. And having your heart bruised by whatever way the night went, will make you cherish the right person, and the right fit of activities, all the more, in the life that is not too far ahead of you.

Here's for all of you reading this: breathe. Breathe out the stupid crap that could make you feel inferior, insecure, unattractive, or unwanted. Blow that crap out! Breathe in the beauty around you. Nature doesn't care what you wore or if you got a Prom invite or if you are twenty pounds overweight. She loves you and is always outside the door waiting to get you resynched with reality. The morning of Prom, this year, I spent with amazing folks who happened to have limb differences. There is something very humbling and reality checking about being around youth and adults who got a crappy hand of cards and turned it into a full house. There is something a hella humbling about being around a beautiful teen who may not see Prom on her calendar of life. Let's remember that NOTHING is guaranteed. NO THING. 

All you Senior fams stressing over Graduation invites and parties and Senior trip (please do NOT go!) and college, etc., be reminded of a wonderful, wonderful guy named Will Norton, who never got from his graduation ceremony to his graduation party back at the house, thanks to a hellish tornado in Joplin. Moms and Dads, Step Moms and Step Dads, Grands, and everybody else…nothing is guaranteed. So please, guarantee, that your teen knows you love him or her. That she or he is love-worthy. That life fits better for most of us after High School. That the superlatives who make High School looks so easy and beautiful, have their own struggles, now and ahead of them. Go tell them how special they are, okay? Go now.