When I was at one of my lowest points in life, I couldn’t get out of bed on some days. I had no energy or motivation and was barely getting by.
Even therapy seemed like too much effort. I had been going every week, and on one particular day, I didn’t have much to “bring” to the session. My therapist asked how my week was going, and I really had nothing to say.
“What are you struggling with?” he asked.
I gestured around me and said, “I dunno, man. Life.”
Like many others before me, I never thought this would happen.
I mean, sure, I always knew theoretically that I would one day turn thirty- but in practice? It felt like I still had a good 40–50 years to go before this was sprung on me.
Yet, here I am: toes dipping into the waters of a new decade and contemplating just about everything that has led me here.
And the pandemic has given me more than enough time to do so.
There is a self-reflection that most of us tangle with when we are ushered into the next age…
Years ago, I was at a nightclub in Vancouver, Canada with my boyfriend. We were getting close to calling it a night, when my boyfriend said he needed to use the restroom and left me standing by the bar.
While he was gone, a random drunk guy came up to me and would NOT leave me alone. He kept trying to grind on me and talk to me, despite me giving clear signals that I was uncomfortable. I asked him to leave me alone, but it was so loud in there that he either didn’t hear me telling him off…
Years ago, my boyfriend and I were driving to Vancouver, Canada to stay in a hotel overnight. I had recently turned 19 and could finally legally drink there. We were on the freeway when suddenly a stop light appeared out of nowhere and, before we could even register it, we had crashed into another vehicle.
By the time we realized it was our fault, the Canadian guy was already walking towards us. We got out of the car, fully prepared to get chewed out, and the following conversation ensued:
“Hey there folks! Everything alright?” the Canadian man asked us.
When I was about 8, we had a secret santa gift exchange in my 4-H club. The only rule was that it had to be home-made.
The girl whose name I drew loved cats, so I spent a long time making her a jewelry box with a cat collage on it. Inside, there was a pair of earrings that were kitties.
I was beaming when she opened her gift- she loved it! Even her mom thought it was cool. I totally nailed it, and I was giddy that I had made her a gift that she liked.
Then, I was…
All my life, I hated being an only child. I envied all the other kids who had siblings to play with, to fight with, and to grow with.
Sure, I had some great cats that I would pretend were my brothers… but it just wasn’t quite the same.
Here’s the catch though: technically I do have two half-sisters and one half-brother. My dad was married to a woman long before he met my mom and that marriage did not end well. The three kids were kept from my dad and they grew bitter and resentful due to the fallout.
Years ago, I was on a short flight headed back home from visiting a friend. It wasn’t a terribly long flight, but about halfway through I dozed off.
I awoke to feel the seats shaking and shuddering.
I was alarmed for a moment, until I noticed two kids barreling up and down the aisle. The little nuisances were about 8 or 9 and were running into people, into seats and being very loud.
As this was going on, a boy around the same age was sitting directly in front of me with his dad. …