“Picture it: Spring Break, 2000. We spent the week playing volleyball in the burning sand and drinking $1 rum concoctions as Sisqó’s ‘Thong Song’ pounded through the speakers of every club we went to. It was inconvenient, exhausting, and absolutely amazing. Spring break at 40 looks a little different.”
“Gag me with a spoon, right? I wasn’t sure it was true. I mean, who would leave this fine specimen of the male species? He asked for my number and we agreed to meet for coffee. It was snowing, pretty hard. This guy offered to drive over an hour in it to see me. This was a big. freaking. deal.”
“I totally cried. As my mom told them, I hid behind my tea mug (it was a pretty big mug) because I didn’t want them to see me crying. I thought I was strong enough to not. Of course, my dad then joined as well and stated, ‘Yeah, I’m straight, I like women.’ We all laughed as he looked at my mom.”
“I stood behind him, yelling to my husband to watch as I clapped repeatedly behind his head loudly. He didn’t even flinch. I said, ‘He’s deaf, right?’ When he was in elementary school, he was physically abused by a speech pathologist. I reached out to anyone and everyone for help, but I was left empty-handed for a very long time.”
“A few months later, I could barely walk. My hips popped out of their socket every time I stood up. The pain was excruciating. I’d turn down social invitations and dates out of fear for my appearance. I had major brain fog and my memory was non-existent. The OBGYN assured, ‘This procedure is WAY better.’ Countless others said it topped the ‘older method.’ In hindsight, I should never have agreed to it.”
“There it was. Or should I say, there she was. Mystery solved. She helped me craft a letter. My husband was having an affair. He felt I had abandoned him when he needed me most. He was an easy mark for any woman. I would pray my husband would have a heart for me. My husband was becoming a new man.”
“I cheated my way out, really believing the worst was over. That lasted 12 hours. My mom took me to the supermarket to buy a birthday cake for my friend. I stood in the cake aisle and started to panic. I couldn’t do it. I was so consumed by it, even looking at the cake felt like something I’d have to punish myself for. I left the story empty-handed and in tears. I didn’t think I’d live to see my 15th birthday.”
“Today when I was met with a disproving look, one of shock and full of judgement about her not wanting to toilet train. I confidently shook my head and I proudly said, ‘She will do it. In her own time.'”
“‘I’m ‘chickening out. I can’t do it.’ My dad was holding the door open when I took ONE step and froze. Something shifted in my back like it never had. I had some ‘colorful language’ and said, ‘Let’s go.’ Tears in my eyes, I signed my name on the black line. 8 hours later, I woke up screaming. ‘I can’t do this! Ow! The pain! Ow! PUT ME IN A COMA! I CAN’T DO THIS!’ The meds weren’t working. My mom was rushed in.”
“When I walked in, she hugged me. I whispered in her ear, ‘Don’t f*@King ask how I’ve been, because I’ve been better. Now can we please do something about my gray hairs.’ The worst is always ‘time will heal.’ You think every day for the rest of my life I won’t think about her and it won’t break my heart all over again?’ It sends me into an internal rage.”
