The power of rewriting the narrative

Lessons from one day, 30 years later

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On Saturday I attended my 30th reunion at Wheaton College. I will admit that in advance of the event, it felt more like a “values consistent” commitment, than one I was approaching with joyful anticipation.

(For reference: Jon and I use the phrase “values consistent” to refer to actions one is not 100% thrilled about doing, but engages in because the act itself is aligned with one’s values. This is different from engaging in actions purely out of guilt, FOMO, people pleasing, fear of judgment, trying to prove you are a “good person,” etc.)

Given that reunions are supposed to be about connecting with classmates, my awkward anticipatory feelings were driven by: 1) my limited college friendships, 2) the potential awkwardness of seeing people with whom I had friction, and 3) my narrative that I was perceived as an intense, un-fun person. First, it is, in fact, the case that I only had a few close friends and only one was confirmed to attend reunion. Second, I knew that I would likely see someone who told me that I was a terrible friend and followed to cut me out of their life. Third, given my personal and financial struggles at that time, I was driven by scarcity and survival and the very real need to get good grades and do great things in order to make my case to the financial aid office. This means that I was intensely focused on academics as well as things like editing the school newspaper, participating in student government, academic mentoring, and preparing for solo violin recitals. I assume parties happened somewhere, but I was never invited to them.

My feelings were very real leading up to the event, and yet I also thought to myself, “What the hell? I am a grown ass adult!” And since I’m all about finding the path towards agency in life—versus feeling like circumstances have complete power to dictate my experience—I decided that there were two actions I could take to improve my odds of having a positive experience at reunion. First, I reached out to a couple of classmates and a handful of faculty/staff mentors who I hoped to see. Second, I decided to be present at the event as who I am now, 30 years wiser and more evolved. And this meant putting the past to bed and focusing on receiving and greeting everyone with care and curiosity and joy—including the person who told me I was a terrible friend back in college.

Though I was disappointed that the two classmates I reached out to were unable to attend, both of those points of connection were wonderful. I hopped on a long overdue Zoom with one person, and exchanged lovely DMs/texts with the other. And to my immense joy, three former faculty/staff mentors were available to meet up on Saturday. It was 100% life affirming and cup filling to connect with them (you can see backstory about these wonderful humans in this Instagram highlight).

Now, you’re probably wondering how my experience went with my classmates. I do think my mental frame of receiving and greeting everyone with care and curiosity and joy couldn’t have set me up better. My interactions with my classmates were wonderful. And given how bogged down I was in my own narrative in advance of the event, and also because I believe in storytelling and reflection, I couldn’t help but find meaning in many of the small moments. Here is what I learned:

1. The best gift you can give yourself is showing up as your present day self

Practically speaking, the possibility that people knew me was probably skewed because back when I attended Wheaton College the non-white student population was pretty small, so I stood out just for being Asian. Even so, I decided to be proactive about showing up as my present day self (vs. a version of myself from 1995)—one who is, in fact, a valued friend and fun, creative, and caring person. I started by not assuming that anyone knew me. I greeted people and introduced myself, sometimes holding up my name tag to spare people the awkward furtive glance cast down at a nametag. Who knows if it was received this way, but for me it felt like a very welcome, “Let’s start fresh!” In some cases, it was just that.

2. The capacity for human connection is limitless

Even though when I was at Wheaton it felt like you knew everyone on campus (I believe the total enrollment was around 1,200 students at the time), due to my aforementioned driven, not super social nature, there are plenty of classmates I didn’t know at all. One of the great joys of Saturday was having meaningful conversations with people I never shared space or words with in my four years at Wheaton. It left me with a feeling of awe over the reality that our capacity for human connection (and reconnection) is limitless. And from everything I see and hear from folks, we sure do need more human connection.

3. Everyone has stories and struggles you know nothing about

As an adult I have worked on becoming a better listener, and I think that capacity—paired with my curious approach—meant that a number of conversations I engaged in went deep and vulnerable pretty fast. It was truly moving to be a part of those conversations, and it was also an excellent reminder that there is so much we don’t know about people’s circumstances. Everyone has stories and struggles, and those stories and struggles inform behavior. As a result, it was a good reminder that we need to issue grace and compassion for ourselves and others—in the present, yes, and also for our younger selves stumbling around during those deeply formative college years.

4. Your narratives may be just that…yours and yours only

One thing I have heard repeatedly over the years since sharing more about my struggles through adolescence and college is that the narratives I believed about myself often do not line up at all with other people’s impressions. After more of these conversations, Saturday ended up being a powerful exercise in embracing 2025 Christine and not letting narratives from 30 years ago dictate how I showed up. Well, maybe with the exception of the narrative that I was not an athletic person in college, which was evidenced by the fact that at one point I needed to make my way to the gym and could not remember how to get there. LOL.

5. Everyone deserves to be treated with care, curiosity, and joy

I have always preferred an edit to the Golden Rule (“treat others as you would like to be treated”). I favor a version that is less about doing something in the hopes of reciprocity to your own benefit, while also being focused on the agency inherent in your own behavior. Instead, my rule is “treat others as all humans deserve to be treated.” At reunion, because my mission was to treat everyone as I believe humans deserve to be treated—with care, curiosity, and joy—I was the person to make that happen with great delight, and it meant I wasn’t bogged down with worry over whether other people would reciprocate given that reciprocity was not the agenda at all. Cue one of the best pieces of advice my therapist gave me: You can’t control how other people behave, you can only control how you show up.

6. We need to elevate human impact stories

Elevating impact stories is part of what I do for a living as a creative director and storytelling expert, and while I was on campus I heard so many incredible stories, both from classmates as well as faculty/staff. Some of them were cone of silence stories and some were more appropriate for 1:1 sharing, but one story I heard was so moving and I thought to myself, I need to help get this story into the world to illustrate how small moments of connection can change lives. It’s on my list this week to reach out to Wheaton about an idea I have for an impact stories series, and I will offer to donate my time and expertise to execute the idea if they are open to it.

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There are many paths into adulthood. College isn’t for everyone, but Wheaton is where I found my voice and developed confidence and a sense of purpose. It also served as a different ecosystem in which I could start from scratch as a person, while also being the place where I connected with faculty/staff members who helped me see my value and learn that support and care can be unconditional.

And now, 30 years later, after Saturday’s reunion visit, I have learned that even if some of your stories and struggles during college were real and painful at the time, there can be a new way forward—one that involves joyful possibilities for human connection, creative/professional mindshare, and the opportunity to rewrite the narrative.

Each graduating class at Wheaton has a different banner. At Commencement, the procession begins with the senior class, which splits to line either side of a long path that leads to the graduation area. The reunion classes then process behind their class banners on the path lined with seniors, followed by the faculty, and then the seniors fold in behind the faculty to take their seats. It’s a really lovely tradition!