The end of 2021

2021 was a big year for me. It started out rocky enough: I actually found myself more depressed than I was immediately after C died in 2019. My grief and angst culminated in a terrible bout of vitiligo in March. (Will share in another post what I have done to treat the vitiligo.) Then I caught COVID in April, was severely ill for 5-6 weeks, a cyst burst, I had a staph infection, gained nearly ten pounds, and I lost over 1/3 of my hair. So, to say I had a rough start in 2021 would be an understatement.

"Should I just kill myself?" I sobbed to my friend R. Yes, it sounds both vain and vapid to contemplate suicide over something as trivial as one's looks, but in conjunction with C's death, I just didn't see the point of living. "You should definitely not kill yourself over your looks... especially in the Midwest," R quipped. (She'd also grown up here, though she'd since moved to Arizona.) I begrudgingly decided to continue on.

Then, my luck suddenly and profoundly changed.

In the later half of 2021, I met S, I got my big job, and my skin improved. A -- whose house was ruined by C's suicide -- bought a beautiful new home, and multiple out-of-town friends visited me in St. Louis.

A miserable, (seemingly) hopeless and dark year for me ended up one of the best. S and I spent New Year's Eve at the Saint Louis Club, where my friend P and his significant other joined us for the New Year's event. The buffet was not particularly vegetarian-friendly, but it was still delicious. There was amazing music from the Fabulous Motown Revue (they allegedly performed at President Obama's inauguration). As the band played "I Will Survive," I looked up and realized: I did survive. I survived the worst thing that has ever happened to me, and then I survived more bad shit after that.

Later, the band played "At Last," and I looked at both P and S.

P -- the kind of friend I always wanted (and even actively prayed to meet back in the day, when I was desperately Googling paid networking groups and envying people with high-powered friends lol). Fiercely loyal, ruthlessly ambitious, and always there to answer the "3 am calls" underneath his Machiavellian schtick, he has really been there for me since we've met.

And S -- the man I'd been looking for my entire life.

"At last," they were there.

A Christmas of friends

Christmas was rushed, S was out of town until the day after, and the food was mediocre. I had to work all the way through Christmas Eve and did not have a lot of time to prepare for my friends to arrive (they flew in from Seattle). I ended up buying pies, cheese & wine from Whole Foods, we made Trader Joes's frozen garlic pasta, and I bought cookies & coconut truffles as snacks at the last minute. I was embarrassed by my lack of preparation, but in the end, everything worked out. Most importantly, the company was spectacular.

I've heard from a lot of people that grief fades with time. I have not found that to be true. The shock is certainly gone, but the depth of my grief has not lessened one bit since losing C. No, the loss stings as much today as it did the first day; time has NOT healed all wounds. Instead, my life improved by the addition of new friendships, deeper friendships, new relationships. I lost C, but S came into my life, and I inherited his friendship with the wonderful O.

We made a toast to C -- for he is loved, even today. Now and forever.

All my garland dreams

A girl R & I once knew (who is now an "influencer") posted photos of the most lavish decorations last year with the caption, "All my garland dreams came true!" This year, I couldn't resist sending R a photo of my staircase with the text, "All my garland dreams came true as well! Except my shit's from Walmart, and only $12.95 ."

It's a day early for Thanksgiving, but I'm feeling a rare moment of gratitude to my dad. I was the ONLY female in my class who didn't get an American Girl doll. Felicity, Samantha, Kirstin -- nada. Money was not the divider: even the kids who lived in trailers/apartments got their American Girl doll. I never liked dolls anyway, but man, it burned to not get one. My dad sheepishly came home with a pre-owned copy of "A Time to Kill" one day (after another one of our big blowouts), and I snatched it from his hands and screamed something like, "I hate my life, and I hate you!" What he didn't know was that I ended up devouring the entire book that night, and it (at least in part) kicked off my interest in the law.

"A Time to Kill" depicted an injustice far more severe than a Midwestern girl who didn't get her doll; it reflected the need for individual people to step up and fight to right the wrongs of society. As my young mind learned that night, even people like Jake Brigance and his family members were called to inconvenience themselves for the greater good.

Maybe my dad was onto something. Perhaps I was never meant to play with $200 dolls, or be known for my home decor. Instead, I found a way to be paid as a full-time nerd (i.e. do things I would be doing in my off-time, anyway). His cheapness/poverty forced me to carve another path; his pitiful consolation prize provided the catalyst to my life now -- for that, I actually am grateful.