keep me in your memory, leave out all the rest
We’ve entered into a new decade, which hardly seems possible. It’s rather hard to believe that the Y2K scare was already ten years ago, that it’s 2010, that I’m still, somehow, here, especially after this New Year’s Eve. The 2000s brought so many changes, and so much seems crammed into just those years. So, instead of a year-end post about 2009, I’m looking back over the entire decade and laying out the most important/most influential events that have helped shape who I have become. I thought about breaking it up into subcategories, but I think it’ll be better if I just shoot from the hip and see what comes out. It’s won’t be chronological, some of it probably won’t make sense, some of it will surprise some people, and I’m sure it will be an incomplete list. But here goes:
I graduated with degrees from both high school and college.
I discovered I’m bisexual. I dated a girl, who five or six years later tried to kill me. I dated a guy, who ended up cheating on me with two other girls before dumping me on my 21st birthday.
I quit smoking cold turkey once I grew bored with it (I’d smoked for about a year). I got wound in a worse drug. I went partway through rehab. I still struggle with cravings.
I’ve been clean for two years.
I got my first real job at Bath & Body Works. I became a manager. I quit when I was hired full-time with Sightpath Medical. I began the writing of numerous novels; I actually finished one. I had a poem featured with an exhibit at the Walker Arts Centre.
I saw my best friend move across the country and then move back again. I saw my other best friend follow his dreams to Ireland. I saw the boy I knew since the day I was born buried, killed by a drunk driver, when we were 16 and preparing for Christmas. Five months later a close friend took a bullet for me, and I held him as he died in the park near our homes. I buried more friends than I can remember, sang at most of their funerals.
I helped identify my best friend’s mother when she was murdered. And three years later, when he woke from his three month coma, I was the one who had to remind him she was gone.
Not for the first time, I attempted suicide, twice.
I discovered how much the cabin and surrounding lake and land mean to me. I discovered how little certain people mean to me, and how some of them never grew up. I found I am Anti-child.
I was diagnosed with psoriasis. Which consequently led to arthritis. Some days I can barely walk. Others I can barely hold a pen.
I began collecting books.
I discovered that music is an integral part of my life. Sometimes it's all that gets me through.
I was proposed to, in a way.
I performed at Orchestra Hall.
I found a sister.
I lost 20-30% of the hearing in my right ear.
I lost a significant amount of weight. I've gained some of it back, and I am most unhappy about it.
I watched from my kitchen in Minneapolis, Minnesota, USA as my gay friend married the most wonderful guy in a lovely little church in Rome. Half a year earlier, we weren't even sure he would live, after slitting his wrists and plunging into the Arno.
I had my beloved Briar put down. I bought Hunter, and my parents bought Rosy.
I saved my ex-girlfriend’s life, twice. I still blame myself for not being able to save another friend from his suicide. I found him in the snow the morning after. I still have nightmares of the blood in the snow. I knew people in the 9/11 WTC attack.
I almost lost my grandma Margaret. I almost lost Andy. I almost lost Sage. I did lose my grand-uncle Don, and two other friends of my grandmother who I miss dearly, Chess and Alphild. I celebrated one grandma turning 80, and one grandma turning 90.
I lost God and swore He didn’t exist. I came back to Him again. We still don't see eye to eye, but we're working on mending our relationship. I dropped out of choir. I went back and realised how much I had missed it. I joined Joyful Noise.
I participated in and saw Asbury United Methodist, the church where I’ve spent my entire life, join with another to become the new church Living Spirit.
I lost the ability to trust easily. I, in part, overcame my social anxiety; in some ways it still haunts me.
I'm learning to be lonely.
I learned that love means letting go.
I can't think of anything else to add at the moment... except that I feel it should now read "attempted suicide, thrice" and "died". But I apparently haven't reached the story's ending quite yet after all.
I feel like I measure my life in tragedies.
I graduated with degrees from both high school and college.
I discovered I’m bisexual. I dated a girl, who five or six years later tried to kill me. I dated a guy, who ended up cheating on me with two other girls before dumping me on my 21st birthday.
I quit smoking cold turkey once I grew bored with it (I’d smoked for about a year). I got wound in a worse drug. I went partway through rehab. I still struggle with cravings.
I’ve been clean for two years.
I got my first real job at Bath & Body Works. I became a manager. I quit when I was hired full-time with Sightpath Medical. I began the writing of numerous novels; I actually finished one. I had a poem featured with an exhibit at the Walker Arts Centre.
I saw my best friend move across the country and then move back again. I saw my other best friend follow his dreams to Ireland. I saw the boy I knew since the day I was born buried, killed by a drunk driver, when we were 16 and preparing for Christmas. Five months later a close friend took a bullet for me, and I held him as he died in the park near our homes. I buried more friends than I can remember, sang at most of their funerals.
I helped identify my best friend’s mother when she was murdered. And three years later, when he woke from his three month coma, I was the one who had to remind him she was gone.
Not for the first time, I attempted suicide, twice.
I discovered how much the cabin and surrounding lake and land mean to me. I discovered how little certain people mean to me, and how some of them never grew up. I found I am Anti-child.
I was diagnosed with psoriasis. Which consequently led to arthritis. Some days I can barely walk. Others I can barely hold a pen.
I began collecting books.
I discovered that music is an integral part of my life. Sometimes it's all that gets me through.
I was proposed to, in a way.
I performed at Orchestra Hall.
I found a sister.
I lost 20-30% of the hearing in my right ear.
I lost a significant amount of weight. I've gained some of it back, and I am most unhappy about it.
I watched from my kitchen in Minneapolis, Minnesota, USA as my gay friend married the most wonderful guy in a lovely little church in Rome. Half a year earlier, we weren't even sure he would live, after slitting his wrists and plunging into the Arno.
I had my beloved Briar put down. I bought Hunter, and my parents bought Rosy.
I saved my ex-girlfriend’s life, twice. I still blame myself for not being able to save another friend from his suicide. I found him in the snow the morning after. I still have nightmares of the blood in the snow. I knew people in the 9/11 WTC attack.
I almost lost my grandma Margaret. I almost lost Andy. I almost lost Sage. I did lose my grand-uncle Don, and two other friends of my grandmother who I miss dearly, Chess and Alphild. I celebrated one grandma turning 80, and one grandma turning 90.
I lost God and swore He didn’t exist. I came back to Him again. We still don't see eye to eye, but we're working on mending our relationship. I dropped out of choir. I went back and realised how much I had missed it. I joined Joyful Noise.
I participated in and saw Asbury United Methodist, the church where I’ve spent my entire life, join with another to become the new church Living Spirit.
I lost the ability to trust easily. I, in part, overcame my social anxiety; in some ways it still haunts me.
I'm learning to be lonely.
I learned that love means letting go.
I can't think of anything else to add at the moment... except that I feel it should now read "attempted suicide, thrice" and "died". But I apparently haven't reached the story's ending quite yet after all.
I feel like I measure my life in tragedies.