The Last 20 in 5's.
It's my birthday this weekend.
I guess now that I'm hitting 34, I'm moving from "early thirties" to "mid thirties". Sheesh, middle age is right around the corner (and, knowing me, a nice big fat mid-life crisis will come with it to shake things up a bit). Well, whatever, inside I'm still 21 years old and I'm okay with that.
I was reflecting back on my life and realized that I could measure the major milestones in my life for the past twenty years in 5 year increments.
1984:
Pretty much the beginning of the loss of my innocence. Even though I didn't lose my virginity or start drinking until 1985, the year I turned 14 was when I decided I was going to pursue life as a wild child. I got my first french kiss on my 14th birthday, along with travelling all the way to "THIRD BASE" with a totally hot guy from school, "Jake", who hung out with all the black and Puerto Rican kids and was the first white "wanna-be" I'd ever met. He was so hot that I thought the "yo, wassup" was adorable. I also started hanging out with a girl who introduced me to the world of guys, older "men", drinking, partying, and eventually, drugs. She also introduced me to the world of lying, manipulative, back-stabbing bitches, as she was the queen of that world, but that's another story for another time.
1989:
This was actually a two year journey for me, beginning with my graduation from high school in '89. Shortly after, I had my heart stomped on, spit out and put in a fucking blender by the first "love" of my life. I had so many issues with abandonment to begin with (due to my mom's death), that I think I had what could be considered a nervous breakdown. I was in the stages of planning my suicide (seriously, I was going to do carbon monoxide poisoning in the crappy old 1980 Toyota Celica I was driving, I was going to buy a hose and various other stuff and just do it, like a guy I'd known had done the year before) when another friend of mine put a shotgun to his chest. He had issues like me, he was lost...anyway, seeing the effects of his death on his family and friends (dude had about 200 people at his funeral) made me think I'd better just stick it out. (I think about Dave alot, he saved my life by dying, but I wish he would've just stuck it out too, for things have a way of getting so much better, it just takes time). The heartache of my ex, the feeling of being lost, and my every single frickin night of boozing and guys took it's toll on me and I moved out of state, 550 miles away, to regroup. I started going to college and met a great group of people far different from any crowd I'd ever hung with before--a mix of hippies, punks, intellectuals, musicians, gays and lesbians. I ended up having my first son at the end of this period, thrusting me into my new role as a parent and responsible human being. And I shocked the shit out of my friends and family by doing it well. I knew it was my wake-up call, for if I hadn't gotten pregnant, I certainly would have ended up dead or HIV-positive. I moved back home when the boy was a year old.
1994:
I earned my Associates and introduced myself into the working world. I started with a crappy retail job and worked myself up from there. My degree didn't do a heck of alot for me, so I took as much as I could from the three jobs I had over the next four years. I spent these years as a single, working mom, and there was little drama.
1999:
By this time, I'd been with my ex, Dick, for two years, our daughter was born, and, aside from loving being a mother of two, I was totally miserable in that relationship. By this time, I'd gained 75 lbs, so my misery was showing. Within the next year, I got rid of him, asserted my independence, found out I was pregnant again (after having thrown him out, but I'm thankful for that, for if I'd found out when he was still with me, I'd have never left him) and met Hub, who I knew upon meeting that I'd be with him forever. Not really love at first sight, just a knowing feeling. In this time, I became a mother to more than one child, and a future step-mom to just as many.
2004:
Hub and I have come along way in the past four years. "They" are right when they say life gets better when you're in your 30's. My two goals for the next five years are to help my husband build a successful business and buy our own home. And my only other goal for myself is to make sure I keep my weight off.
And that's it. That guy who broke my heart in 1989? Funny story. Maybe I've mentioned it before in here, I'm not sure, but he got what was coming to him. Back about six years or so ago, he and a few friends went out drinking, met some girl and snuck into her house and had some kind of gang-bang. I guess the girl didn't consent to it, cuz she called the cops the next day. Asshole's buddy, a schmuck that I never cared for, turned him in to save his own ass, and Asshole was sentenced to 5-10 years prison time. He just got out last year on parole, but he has to register as a sex offender and notify his neighbors when he moves into a new place. For the rest of his stinking life. HA. My deepest sympathies go out to the girl who was the victim. But that fucker got what he deserved. If you knew him, you'd agree.
Due to various interruptions by people who can't fucking leave me alone for 5 minutes (ie, Hub, kids, etc), this entry took me 2 goddamn hours to write. Shit.
I'm outta here.
Listening to: Currently reading: Thinking about: