A Quarter of a Century Ago, Today

Yes, that’s right. I am the big 2-5 today. I don’t really feel as a person should who is in their mid-twenties. I actually still kind of act like I’m 17 minus the no curfew or sex rule.

But I’m like, an adult. I’m responsible.

And it’s funny.

I’m sitting here, thinking of all the years that have passed, and I know unequivocally that the life I lead now is not the life I ever dreamt I’d lead, or even want to lead.

This is how it was supposed to go:
I’d graduate college in something; I didn’t really care, as long as I was writing. I’d go live in NYC; experience the Big Apple and Life and model for Elite and Victoria’s Secret. And then I’d get married, and in my late twenties or early thirties have one baby, maybe two. I’d be famous by the time I was 30, having written the next Great American Novel, of course, and maybe even having graced the cover of Vogue. I would never worry about finances, or my lungs. I would be thin and beautiful but never of course have an eating disorder. I’d have it All Together. No one would ever have to worry about me, or whisper behind my back, or look at me critically and think, Has she gained weight? Has she lost? I’d even have a white picket fence, dammit!

And, well wow, we know that that’s not how things have turned out. At all.

But if I could go back, would I change it? If I’m being honest, perhaps. Those who say they don’t regret anything they’ve ever done are fools. Or, terribly naïve. Or maybe just a saint. I don’t know.

There have been lots of things in my life that have hurt. I’ve made a lot of mistakes too, nearly killed myself with anorexia, put my parents and family in bouts of frenzied worry for my sanity and life. And that shames me.

But also, maybe it’s made me ME. Who I am. Or who I’m supposed to be.

I was born, and I was happy. And then somewhere along the line…not so happy. And that translated into self-starvation, which at the time, was really self-preservation. And then I tried to get better but couldn’t. I got worse. But then I met Brandon. And for a while, I got better. And then I got sick again. But then I got pregnant with Cade, and got better. But then got sick again. And finally, better: recovering. And now here I am, dealing with the devastating after-math of malnutrition. I am not the picture of health even though I no longer restrict. There are consequences to one’s actions. And that sucks.

And I’ll have to live with that.

And, if I’m lucky, I’ll get to live with all that for at least a few more quarter centuries, because my life really does rock. Because I have Brandon, and I have Cade. And I have my friends, and my amazing sisters and mom, and family. And I have YOU. Seriously let’s have a cheesy moment, okay?
[deep breath]
LOVE YOU!

Man. Happy birthday to me, right?