Twenty Years Ago
“I’m choosing happiness over suffering; I know I am. I’m making space for the unknown future to fill up my life with yet-to-come surprises.”
Twenty years ago, a 16-year-old junior in high school sat down at a computer and typed out what she wanted for her life. She wanted to graduate from The Ohio State University at Marion. She wanted to be a journalist. She wanted to write a book. She wanted to work as a professional writer.
Nineteen years ago, a 17-year old senior in high school wanted to join the military. She wanted to follow in her father’s footsteps and become a soldier in the U.S. Army. She struggled to get her weight down and tried to run a mile without puking. She planned to serve her country and write about her adventures before coming home to start her academic and professional career.
Eighteen years ago, an 18-year-old girl, freshly graduated from high school, saw her dreams drift away like a deflating balloon. Her boyfriend proposed, and he was going away to boot camp. Now, she was pregnant, with no way out. She changed her plans and focused on the new men in her life.
Seventeen years ago, a 19-year-old new mother and wife, with her three-month-old baby in tow, moved everything she had to North Carolina to start her new role as a military wife. She was 700 miles from everyone she knew. Before she could learn how to be a mother of one, a new baby was on the way.
Sixteen years ago, a 20-year-old mother of two began to wrestle with loneliness and depression as her newborn and 18-month-old children cried and begged for her attention. Her husband was gone quite a bit on short deployments, and with few friends, she had nowhere to turn. Then, she found a computer and a chat room. Soon, she was communicating with people all over the world, and learning to type and flex her verbiage.
Fifteen years ago, a 21-year-old American watched in horror as planes crashed into buildings and the ground all along the East Coast. The mother of two young toddlers, she turned the television to Nick Jr. to keep her little ones from seeing the horror. But, in the other room, she couldn’t pull herself away. Living on a military base, the sound of aircraft overhead was a constant in her life. But, now she flinched whenever it sounded like something was flying too low.
Fourteen years ago, a 22-year-old Marine Corps wife reached out to other women in her community to become part of a club. She needed the same camaraderie her husband found in the Marine Corps, and she found it in a group of women who were in a similar age group and situation. These women had all been through what she was going through. She found hope and friendship, a blessed distraction.
Thirteen years ago, a 23-year-old wife came home to find her house dark and her husband coming out of the back bedroom with her best friend. The woman yelled, threw accusations, and fought back the tears of betrayal. The next morning, she packed up her children, and left for an extended stay with her parents. A month later, she came back. But, it was already too late.
Twelve years ago, a 24-year-old woman prepared for her husband’s second long deployment. While things were still difficult because of infidelities over the past few months, the woman had decided to push them out of her mind and trust her husband again. Without trust, they had nothing. She drove him to the airfield that morning, and said goodbye to him. She had no idea everything she was saying goodbye to at the time.
Eleven years ago, a 25-year-old woman welcomed her estranged husband home from his second deployment. Separation was imminent. They laid in bed together, trying to think of some way to make it work. But after a few weeks of trying, they knew it was over. She packed up her things and moved from North Carolina to Ohio to be near her family, leaving her other family behind.
Ten years ago, a 26-year-old woman was sick of working at dead-end jobs to pay bills and take care of her young children. As a single mother, she knew she had to better her situation. She applied to The Ohio State University at Marion and was accepted. She began her journey as a History major, but soon she turned to English.
Nine years ago, a 27-year-old college freshman took her first writing class, fiction writing. She began to make up different characters and take them on journeys – a woman controlled by her nightmares, a waitress with a homicidal tendency, girl who wrestled with unrequited love, and a wife whose husband died overseas. The stories gave her an outlet and the words gave her hope.
Eight years ago, a 28-year-old college sophomore decided she wanted to be a memoirist. She started to formulate an idea for a senior thesis project about Marine Corps wives and the lives they lead. As she sat in her thesis advisor’s office, she began to write in her notebook, brainstorming how she could incorporate all she had seen into one cohesive piece.
Seven years ago, a 29-year-old college junior started writing her thesis. She had already received a grant and went on a research trip, collecting interviews from Marine Corps wives about their experiences. She realized during that trip, that all the stories had similar themes – loneliness, finances, love, hate, moving, friendships, etc. They were her stories too. She decided to use the interviews for the academic portion and write a diary for the creative portion, using real diary entries.
Six years ago, a 30-year-old college student started to wonder what her life would be like after college. She started researching all of her options and decided she wanted to write professionally. Her writing professor warned her that writing as a career could be tedious, but she didn’t care. She loved the written word, and she couldn’t imagine not spending the rest of her life filling pages with those words, in some way or another.
Five years ago, a 31-year-old college senior walked across the grass at Ohio Stadium and accepted her B.A. in English. She, along with her younger sister, Becky, were the first two in their family to graduate with a four-year degree from a university. She got to share that day with Becky, and it was a culmination of all of her hard work and success. Three months later, she landed a job working for a local newspaper – her first job as a professional writer.
Four years ago, a 32-year-old crime reporter wanted to leave her hometown for something bigger. She’d spend a year writing about drugs, theft, and murder in her town, and she was ready for something more. She sent out an email to a newspaper editor in NC, where she used to live, and they happened to have a position open. She got the job in a newspaper with a larger market. She moved back to NC to start her life new, on her own terms.
Three years ago, a 33-year-old woman moved back to Ohio from North Carolina for several reasons. One sister was getting a divorce, another was sick, her children hated their life in NC, and she wasn’t that fond of her job. She brought back with her a man who acted as though he cherished everything about her. She was engaged. That year, she got married. That year, she started being abused. That year started with love and ended with hate. She was trapped.
Two years ago, a 34-year-old sister read the eulogy at her little sister’s funeral. She sat in the hospital with her family for two weeks as her sister died. She wrote the obituary, and she presented the eulogy. Her husband stood by her side at the podium, and then slept and drooled as the preacher spoke, in his Xanax-induced haze. After leaving the cemetery, her husband came home drunk, followed by a cop. She threw him out the next day. The next few months became a war between her heart and her head as the abuse cycle chugged along.
One year ago, a 35-year old divorcee had enough. She’d been separated for almost a year with no resolution in sight. Her estranged husband started to date other women, and she decided it was time to take matters into her own hands. She filed for divorce, doing it all on her own. It was time for her to take control of her future, instead of leaning on someone else for love and support.
Tonight, a 36-year-old single mother and writer sat down at the computer and decided to do a winter count of her life, recalling events from each year of her life over the last twenty years.
It has been an incredibly wild ride over the last twenty years. As I sit here, I realize how much my experiences have molded me. If I had to write to my 16-year-old self, I would tell her three things: life is hard, death is harder, and boys are stupid. But, you’ll survive the death, you’ll thrive in life, and you’ll use those bad experiences with men to teach your son respect and your daughter independence.
It’s been a great twenty years, and I think the next twenty will be even better.
Goodnight all….
