sip bacardi. like it’s your birthday.

thirteen:

For my 13^th birthday my parents let me host a sleepover for a few friends. My female mafia (before our official name adoption) and a few others were there. Most the day is hazy, but I remember it was warm enough to have a water balloon fight in the yard. I also remember receiving my first Hanson CD – The Middle of Nowhere – which, according to Google, looks like it was just released the month prior.

It was also around this point that I recall boys started becoming important. Looking back, I’m not sure if it was because I was truly interested in them – or if I was just interested in knowing that I was desirable. I wish someone had told me that wanting to be wanted is a terrible reason to spend so much time obsessing over things out of your control. Not that I would have listened at that age anyway – I mean have you seen 1997 Devon Sawa?

sixteen:

This year my family took a rare family vacation to Florida to visit my Nani before heading to Disney World. The night before we checked into Disney, though, we were scheduled to stop in Orlando to visit a neighbor family that had moved out of our small town several years earlier. Cornelius and their middle son were good friends growing up. Their oldest son was in my grade and could be categorized as “popular” before they moved.

So obviously my goal was to use this one-time dinner pool party to show that I was no longer an awkward, short, quiet girl and come home with a long-distance boyfriend.

Spoiler Alert: I was still awkward, short, and quiet and I did not come home with a long-distance boyfriend.

nineteen:

I don’t remember my 19^th birthday. Although I’m guessing its celebration revolved around Canadian dance clubs, Labatt Blue, and 5-pin bowling. I was still very single and seeking validation – but I was also a few years into the longest crush of my life.

I knew of AC8’s existence since 6^th grade, but it wasn’t until high school Algebra class – passing notes back and forth on the TI81’s – that I could identify the connection that always lived just below the surface of our friendship as a crush. We attended different colleges after high-school, but drunken nights and spur of the moment decisions brought us together regularly. As did hometown reunions – there is nothing like the Wednesday night before Thanksgiving in a small town to make it feel like you’ve never left.

For the next 6 years, even when one or both of us were dating other people – I could feel that spark – unspoken, always present. I have never questioned mutual friends deeply on this, but I swear they sensed it too.

Unfortunately – chance, timing, and circumstance never put both of us in the right place at the right time. It was always one sided – except at the very end. You know those points in your life? The ones where you feel like you are at a fork in the road? Where you are faced with a choice that will alter your entire life path? The last time AC8 and I interacted was one of those points.

If there was ever a time for us to be together, the time had come. But instead of taking the risk to fully jump into the thing we had only ever danced around, I went back to Lt. and was married and moving over 2,000 miles away within 4 months. This was the first of 4 major “What If’s” in my life that I can pinpoint. All of them irrevocably life-altering. 

It sounds ridiculous to say, especially now, more than 10 years later – but I believe that had I made a different choice that summer, I would have eventually married that crush and been incredibly happy. I would likely have had the type of relationship that I was looking for – maybe we would have a family of our own. It’s black-hole thinking that has no end. The only way to pull myself out of it is to reiterate the good that did come from that decision:

I gained experience and independence by making a cross-country move. I developed a deep appreciation and understanding for all Military personnel and their families. I found enjoyment hanging around the single bro’s that welcomed me into the small circle of slam pieces, strippers, football, and military acronyms. I found a job and company that I loved enough to stay almost 9 years. I discovered a diverse group of friends that challenged me to think deeper and understand better.

Cornelius moved to San Diego after his graduation and landed a job that suits him in every way. There was NYE in Vegas on the rooftop of Ceasar’s Palace with bottle service. There were two years of living across from the Pacific Ocean. There was Anza-Borego and Big Sur. Sushi and Business Training. Head Coaching. Crossfit. Body Boarding. Breakfast Shots. Trivia nights…

Focusing energy on a future that doesn’t exist is a tragic waste of time. You cannot go back. Make peace with yourself for the decision you made; right or wrong. Identify and reflect on the good that did follow. Then – define who you want to be in the future and make your next move.  

twenty-one:

2005 – This was my first year dating Lt. In total, we were together for 9 of my birthdays – but somehow, we spent only spent two of them in the same place. In fact, it became a bit of a joke – How long could he go without actually being around for my birthday?

This particular summer, I was living with my Aunt and Uncle who owned a home on several acres ‘close‘ to Lansing where I was completing a summer internship required for graduation. Sunfield, Michigan. Population 578. My gregarious and amazing Aunt Macarena owned a furniture store there. Despite marrying into the family, she, of all my family members, reminded me most of Nani.

She took me to the local bar for my first legal US drink (a long island ice tea) and then her and my uncle were gracious enough to host two of my best college friends for the night. We drank away the night under the glow of a massive bonfire with the sound of the creek bubbling close by. Fireflies lit up the manicured section of lawn in the distance, but they were no comparison to the stars above. It was one of my favorite birthdays.

twenty-four:

This year Lt. graduates. He leaves Michigan soon after to complete OCC (Officer Candidate Course) for the Marine Corps – the only branch of the Military with literally no need for his degree in Medical Technology.

OCC is 10-week long course in Quantico, VA. It is the Officer equivalent of bootcamp. Candidates are only allowed to use their cell phones during weekend liberty… and liberty usually isn’t granted until week 3 or 4. This was my first test as a military ‘dependent’.

Lt. and I had talked at least once a day since the fall of 2004 – Now it was dark. They gave us left-behinds access to a website that would be updated every so often with photos. I checked it daily, searching every photo for the face I wanted to see. Most of them were action shots and it was hard to distinguish individual people – but there was one photo.

One of the first ones posted. It was a side profile, but there he was – lined up in front of some barrack racks. His head was bowed, and his eyes looked blank. I thought the photos would bring me comfort – instead, I just felt helpless.

Lt. would complete OCC and start TBS (The Basic School) later this year. We would break up in the middle of his TBS training and I would reconnect with AC8. The confusing handful of months that followed would be the closest to actually dating we would ever get. It would also be the last time we would ever see each other.

Once I chose to go back to Lt. I knew it would be unsafe to maintain a friendship with AC8. Whatever was there, it would always be dangerous. In giving him up I also let go of many amazing mutual friends – almost all from my hometown. Visiting home now is strictly for family and a very small handful of friends.

twenty-seven:

Lt. is on his 2^nd Deployment. I’m in Michigan at his best-friend’s wedding on my exact birthday. It’s a wedding he should be standing up in. My sister-in-law CeCe and I go hard that night. In the last picture of the night I’m napping on the floor of my in-laws – right in front of the fridge, in a cocktail dress. I might be clutching a taco. All in all, a damn good birthday.

thirty:

2 months prior: I would have just learned that Lt. had been having an affair with a woman, Marcus, from his work. A woman I had met. That was alone in the city. That I invited to Thanksgiving dinner the year before.

1 month prior: I find out via a text message that reads something like “Can you believe it has been 6 months since you kissed me? I love you.” that the affair had been going on far longer than I was originally told.

*Bonus Fact – I took my mom to my college roomates wedding in Mexico while still married to my cheating husband. He didn’t want to go.

2 weeks prior: I had packed my car with what I needed for work and drove to Tennessee. My bosses were letting me live in their guest house while I tried to get my head straight and my shit together.

*Bonus Fact – Had to join my family on a family vacation and wedding while still married to my cheating husband. Let me tell you nothing like a wedding to make adultery cut deep.

Birthday week: Instead of celebrating this iconic birthday properly I was contemplating divorce on a 4 hour flight from Nashville to San Diego. I had to complete a week-long training session for a new franchise owner and then drive to Vegas to facilitate our biennial National Conference with all of our franchisees. I was mentally exhausted.

At the end of this trip I’d find out from CeCe that despite saying he wanted to save our marriage, Lt. was still actively talking to Marcus. Playing house *in our home* with Marcus. Helping Marcus get a new phone number so I won’t be able to use the Verizon bill to determine if they were still in contact.

That’s right – I had turned into a crazy bitch detective that even Sherlock Holmes might question crossing. At one point I used a pencil to shade trace over a pad of paper where it was clear he had written Marcus a letter. In it, I found out that instead of taking the weekend before to go up north and focus on himself like he said he needed – he had actually been on a lovers getaway with Marcus.

Nothing good comes from jealousy or spying. The choices we make are reflections of ourselves. My constant snooping was a reflection of my distrust in Lt. (rightly earned but still my distrust). If I truly wanted our relationship to recover, I would need to trust him at his word – as if the cheating had never happened. Once I realized that – I had to face the fact that I wasn’t that strong. I could forgive him, but I couldn’t forget. I would always be anxious going forward and that wasn’t fair to me or Lt. The damage had been done – trust was gone. Maybe it was my karma for AC8. Didn’t matter either way. It was time to move on.

1 month later: I would return to the home I had made in Michigan one final time to file for divorce and say good-bye to friends and family. Lt. wanted to hold hands walking into the courthouse to submit our paperwork. He was always sentimental – and thought that we should finish the marriage together since we had started it together.

This was my face:

thirty-three:

You would think that after birthday 30 it couldn’t get worse – but it did. I had been married to Batman for 2 years and was miserable. Thankfully, this would be the last of my birthdays that he had access to.

One of Batman’s favorite ways to ignore his behavior was to propose a grand expenditure or project of some sort. Anything that would distract me from our actual relationship. This year he told me that my birthday present would be a pergola for the backyard. I LOVE being outside, but Tennessee was hot AF and we had no trees back there – so I was really excited about the prospect of reading in the shade.

We picked it up in late June and on a Sunday we started assembly. It, of course, was more complicated than anticipated and we were running out of time before I had to leave for cheer practice. Over the last 6 months I had started doing things for myself regardless of what Batman thought. One of the most recent was assistant coaching a cheer team. Batman hated it. The idea that I would want to put so much effort into something that wasn’t him or our relationship was confirmation to his brain that I didn’t want him and therefore didn’t love him and therefore didn’t want the marriage and yadda, yadda, yadda.

He would purposefully try to schedule things during my cheer schedule so that he could force me to choose him over it. He always wanted to be first. So, it is no surprise that pergola-gate turned into an argument about how I abandoned him and therefore he would be revoking his gift. He said I owed him for half of it now. The pergola was around $650 but he also wanted to be compensated for the time and labor he spent putting it together.

Now – I consider myself a pretty laid back person – but if there is one thing that bothers me to no end it’s inconsistency. If you tell me you are going to do something, then fucking follow through. If you decide to change your mind – that is cool too. Let me know – and then fucking follow through. But don’t seesaw back and forth on it.

Batman dropped so many lies and veiled threats on the daily that it was impossible to know what was real and what wasn’t. His wish-washy attitude took away my ability to depend on anything. It was just another way to control my actions. He wanted me to beg him for attention so that he would feel needed. I played along for the first year and a half. But like I mentioned earlier, these last 6 months were different.

I started calling him out on these back and forth games. If something came up and he said he wanted no part of it – I planned it without him. When he inevitably changed his mind later, I refused to give him the details. When he would say he wanted a divorce I would follow up with completed no-contest documents and lawyer contacts. When he threatened to kill himself if I went to CrossFit instead of staying home and talking to him, I told him to stay out of the rooms with carpet. So when he said he wanted to be paid for the pergola – I gave him a check – which he cashed the next day.

Happy Birthday to Me:

thirty-six:

This whole post came into being because I was reflecting on my 36^th birthday next month. The universe obviously has a cheeky sense of humor – a global pandemic? Really? Jokes on you though universe, there is little that could stop me from embracing year 36.

So much has changed since 30 and 33. The girl who could hardly breathe through the constant tears that came when the bottom fell out of her world – would be so proud of where we are now. The girl who was becoming a person she didn’t like in order to adapt to a broken man would be toasting life with me.

So – cheers to 36. Here’s to happiness. Here’s to boldness. Here’s to being brave enough to make new decisions and humble enough to change them if they don’t work out. Bring it on, I am ready.

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