The Best Year of My Life

I recently had a conversation with someone who stated that she had the “best year of her life” at the age of 36. This made me ask, “How the hell do you remember what you did at 36?” and also, “How do you remember it to be your best year of your life?” She went on to explain some profound life events that took place that year that paved the way for the “best year” title.  I got to thinking, “Beth, what year was the best year of your life?” Hmmmm…

While this poses an actual question, the real question that comes to mind is how I would ever remember far back enough to know what happened each year that might push it into 1^st place for Best Year of My Life (hereafter known as BYOML). I barely remember what I had for breakfast this morning let alone the past 39 years. So I’m going to attempt this by going back a few years or so and trying to pinpoint people/events/etc. that might give that year a leg up to take the prize of BYOML.

1994-1998: High school. Nothing about any of these years made any of them the BYOML. As a matter of fact they may have been the WYOML. They really should warn teens about these years being terrible. Yes, I was thin and  I made great friends and yes I had fun experiences, but ugh, terrible years, terrible.

1998-2006: I can bypass all of these years because they just consisted of school, being poor, Freshman 40# (it is 40 right?), working, and not knowing WTH I wanted to do with my life. Fell in lust a few times which obviously didn’t pan out. I learned how to live with roommates and the ups and downs of "being on my own".  I did move to Alaska which must be something good since I am still here… On another upside, I reconnected with friends and family that live here and I love that! 

One of my first roommates ever, Steffy.

2006-2009: Had a menial job that I worked hard at but got paid shit for. Made some lifelong friends. Lived in the basement of someone else’s house. Got matched with my Little Sister Amia-- 11 years going strong!! Started dating the ultimate sociopath/liar/I could go on but I won’t….. Not the BYOML.

Amia and I circa... 2016?

2009-2012: Had a job that I loved, boss I hated. Got fired. Positives- I learned a TON, had the opportunity to travel all over this state, and met some amazing people. Kept dating aforementioned loser until I found out he was cheating on me with half of Anchorage. #sweet #wastedprimeyearsofmylife. BUT, I moved into my little cabin that I continue to love and adore.. so this moves these years up the ladder of BYOML but I do not believe it hit’s #1. Oooh, and I got chickens which we all know makes me incredibly happy. Solid #2.

Not the cheater... but one of my favorite humans Geno!

2013-2017: Nothing really jumps out at me during this timeframe except I met my #1 Boo Boo Torrie who I don’t know what I would do without…So maybe that year is in the running…. Not to mention my brother got married which was cool. Maybe….but it was also the year I lost my Zoe so it’s kind of a catch 22. These were also the years I decided I was going to learn how to say “no” to things I didn’t want to do. Some call it selfish, but without sounding .. well, selfish, I don’t care. Call an Uber the next time you fly into town. I will not lose sleep over it. 

My #1 BooBoo (in a complete heterosexual way)

2017-2019: Got my job at RurAL CAP that I love but am still unsure what I want to do “when I grow up”. I sometimes feel like 40 is going to hit me and I will have nothing to show for it. I’ve skated through life and now I’m at the middle point wondering WTH I did with my life. I recently gave someone the advice that you only live once so make that life worthwhile. Do I live life by that same standard? I do know that I choose to spend time with people who I enjoy and who I trust. I'm over the dramatics and BS. I have enough amazing people in my life to even consider dwelling on those that don't contribute to my awesome life. #byefelicia.

So after many deep thoughts and browsing pictures to see what happened in various years, I’ve come to this simple conclusion: I haven’t had the BYOML. Yet. I have faith it’s still to come. It might look different from what I thought or expected it to be years ago, but I’m okay with that. Desires change. Needs differ. Expectations skew. In the end, I want the next year and the year thereafter to be the BYOML. Why not have something to look forward to?

Thirteen years. I never in a million years thought I would still be living in Alaska after my impromptu move here. Never. It still kind of shocks me. How did it all start? Let me tell you…

I was living in Minnesota when my parents decided to build a house in Mexico. Yep, Mexico. Meanwhile, they had a house in California that needed tending to while they were away. Enter me. I stayed at the house while they galivanted around looking for the perfect spot (which they found and have since sold.. we won’t talk about that sore subject). Meanwhile my eldest brother was living in Alaska with his girlfriend and all seemed good in the world. Then one day my brother called in a state of….. hmm… panic/sadness/anger/shock because his sweet little girlfriend had left him while he was at work on the North Slope and had taken some things that maybe didn’t belong to her. Long story short, he flew down to CA and he and I, along with his friend, drove up to Alaska. Him to go home, the friend to move up for work, me to find and beat the hell out of the girlfriend. Sorry not sorry. I never did find her, but that is probably a good thing.

So here I am, 13 years later reminiscing about the past years and pondering the coming years. I’m thinking about the jobs I’ve had, friends (and men) who have come and gone, adventures I’ve been on, places I’ve seen, and lessons I’ve learned. I sometimes think about the life I would have had if I had stayed in California or Minnesota or moved elsewhere. Would I be married with kids? President of my own company? Living on a farm by myself with a handsome farmhand? (Hey, it could happen!) But this is the life I have, and the one I will probably continue to have for awhile because I’m kind of set right now. I love my house. I love my job. I love my circle of friends. I love looking out my window and thinking I must live in one of the most beautiful places.

But on the other hand, the Anchorage I live in now isn’t the same Anchorage I moved to years ago. Maybe I’m more cognizant of the issues, maybe crime has always been bad, maybe the homeless population hasn’t increased, and maybe our government hasn’t always been so flawed. So you take the good with the bad and choose to stay or go, right? For now, I will stay put.

 

Here are some of my favorite memories from the past 13 years. I am so blessed to call so many people friends and have been so fortunate to travel and experience this magnificent state I call home. For easier viewing, view in Full Screen. Enjoy.

Breaking Up is Hard to Do

There comes a time in some relationships where you realize that it is just time to walk away. You’ve done everything in your power to make it work and it just isn’t. And won’t and you feel the steady decline.

I recently had to make the choice to end a really long relationship. Most of you didn’t even know I was in one; I kept it secret out of shame and fear of judgement. Now I’m ready to move on and be a better me. But here is one last love note to end it forever.

Dear T,

You’ve been my constant companion for most of my life. You’ve been there when I was down and needed to just zone out and forget about the world. You introduced me to new, great things. You provided me with the opportunity to learn and grow and expand my horizons.

The problem is, you consume too much of my time. You are needy always reminding me of things I’m not seeing and your memory is just too full of things we’ve done together. I just couldn’t get away from it. When I turn you on all you want to do is make me watch you. Well, I’ve spent too much time with you and I need to work on me and not live vicariously through you anymore. I am done being your Sugar Mama spending all of my money on you. We are done TiVo. Done.

You will be forever missed,

Beth

One month. One million thoughts.

I am almost 40 years old. I have had my fair share of relationships, flings, flirts, and the other relationships that don’t fit in any of the aforementioned categories. I’ve dated long-term, I’ve dated short-term, I’ve lived with men, I’ve been a stepmom figure, I’ve dated a Mormon (hey that was a step out of the ol’ comfort zone), rich men, poor men, smart men, etc. etc. The list can go on. They all have one thing in common: It didn’t work out. Why you ask? Oh lord, the list of reasons could go on and on… but it doesn’t matter, what matters is those relationships didn’t work out. What else matters is how easy it was for me to wash my hands of them. A few stuck for a bit, and a few I look back on and wonder why it didn’t work or what if it had. But for the most part, I’m an “everything happens for a reason” type person. Que Sera Sera. Get over it and move on with your life type person.

"Have enough courage to trust love one more time and always one more time." Maya Angelou

It wasn’t until recently that I met someone that had an effect on me that I wasn’t really expecting and quite frankly, can’t make it go away. I think I got to this point in my life where I figured I’d live alone and raise my chickens and cats and be content (my God that sounds terribly lame). But I was okay with it. Hell, that’s been my life for the last 10 years so why change now? It’s easier. I answer to myself. I don’t have to shave my legs. I won’t get hurt. I can walk around buck a’ naked and not feel self-conscious about it. Being single is great, right? I used to think so. Then this guy walks into my life and I realize that maybe having a connection with someone and wanting to spend time with someone is worth all the bullshit that could potentially go along with it.

Physical attraction is one thing, and I am attracted to him physically, don’t get me wrong. I wanted to touch him constantly (sorry mom). But more importantly I am attracted to him because he is smart, funny (not as funny as me), thoughtful, affectionate, and communicative. I felt like I had known him my entire life after the first two dates. There was an ease I hadn’t felt before with someone and it was exciting and terrifying all at the same time. I’m a terrible dater. I admit it. I have the mentality that if I like you and you like me, then let’s date and call it good. It usually bites me in the ass because things move too quickly. Case in point. But I felt like I was moving at the pace that we both set, not just me.  The thing is, it couldn’t work with him. Not now. He is a recent divorcee with young children. While some people can bounce back from a break-up or divorce and jump into something new easily, that wasn’t the case with him. I don’t know the details, I don’t have to. But I know that it affected him greatly and that although he thought he was ready to start something new, he really wasn’t. Even with me, and I’m awesome. (Self-proclaimed) That realization came quickly and out of nowhere to me. One day we were meeting up for drinks the next day I was getting the cold shoulder. It’s easy to blame yourself and it’s easy to think you did something wrong, but I couldn’t come up with anything. I felt sad. I felt mad. I felt confused. I went through the five stages of grief in a matter of days. Denial that it was happening. Anger that I was getting ghosted. Bargaining with him to try to make him see I was okay with whatever he could give. Depressing thoughts because I knew deep down he was ending it with me even if I didn’t quite know why. Acceptance, the final step, maybe hasn’t fully set in. That would mean it really is done and over with. For good. Forever.

"Try to be a rainbow in someone’s cloud."

So, what’s the ridiculous blog post about? I cannot, for the life of me, get over this. It's hurt me down to my core and I haven’t experienced that before. Even after being cheated on. Even after living with someone for years and finding out it wasn’t ever going anywhere. The thing is, it’s dumb. We only hung out for.. wait for it.. one month. I KNOW!! I can’t explain it. I'm not a psycho. It just felt right. It was one month that felt like I’d known him ten years. It was one month that felt like I couldn’t wait for the next month, or ten. It felt like it was so easy that the logical next step would be to plan the coming weeks together. We made jokes about how many dates we’d actually have been on had it not been for our schedules. There were so many similarities and connections and discussions about things we could do that it felt so easy, so normal, so exciting, so ….. “Holy shit I like this guy and can’t find one thing I don’t like about him!”.. That doesn’t happen with me. I am the nitpicker of all nitpickers.

Did things happen quickly? Yes. Did I think there was more potential than him? I have no idea. It didn’t seem that way at the time. Was I more into him than he was me? Obviously. But I felt like it was mutual then. Did something happen that scared him away? I have no clue. It all happened so suddenly. One day I’m on cloud nine because I had met this amazing guy and the next minute I’m sitting there dumbfounded because I just got blindsided by his reality I guess.

All I know is I’m sad. Like, high school heartbreak sad. I’ve never felt this kind of sadness before. It's like a weight on your chest and an inner ache that you can't shake. My God I sound like a lunatic. It’s like knowing you lost something great but have zero control over it. I’m sad about the potential for something that could have been great, and I know it could have been great. I’m sad that he is sad and that he was hurt and that he is hurting. I’m sad that someone would treat someone they care about or have ever cared about in any capacity, in a way that would make them turn away from the possibility of being happy. I have never intentionally hurt someone like that and I can’t understand why someone would do that to someone they supposedly cared about. I want to give him a hug and remind him that there are a good people out there that do care about him (even if it had just been one month) and that I saw enough potential for something great that I would be willing to wait. I’m in no hurry. Hell, I’m almost 40. I can’t have kids; I don’t need to move fast for any reason whatsoever. He gave me a peek inside what it could have been like and taking that away was like ripping off a band aid. But not a little paper cut band aid, like a big open-wound band aid, connected to hairs. 

I was asked to walk away and that’s what I did. But it definitely feels like I turned my back on someone I cared about and that even after one month maybe needed me but wasn't ready to need someone. And I don’t do that easily. The thing is, there’s nothing I can do. I’m a fixer and I can’t fix this. I’m not privy to enough information to fix it, nor does he want me to be a part of the fix. I get that. I do. I’m not angry in any way. I’m sad for him and for me at the same time. I think about how he must feel after years of marriage and here I am being sad about one month. But is there a litmus test for how much time it takes to feel something for someone? Absolutely not, so I can’t discount my own feelings. I also can't discount his or where he is at right now. It's not easy, but WTF else am I supposed to do?

Someone asked me if I thought I would ever hear from him again when he felt he was ready. Honestly? I have no idea. Part of me hopes he will reach out because from my perspective, it could have been great. We laughed a lot (super important to me), had a connection (so I thought), planned a decathlon that I was hell-bent on winning (and totally would have), and to me, had that je ne sais quoi. In my core, and that sounds so ludicrous even as I type it,  I know, but down deep in the feels, I felt there was something different about him; something that could be pretty great. But alas, timing is everything and timing is not currently on my side. Maybe one day.. I just wonder if I cross his mind as much as he crosses mine. If not, well, maybe I can’t trust my intuition as well as I thought I could. If not, hopefully this sadness will subside sooner rather than later. If so, I look forward to the day I see his name come across my phone. 

Until then, I live life like I have for the past 39 years with sporadic thoughts of the "what could have been" and "maybe one day will be". 

 "The two most powerful warriors are patience and time." Leo Tolstoy

Getting Bitch Slapped by Life.

Here’s the thing; we all get older. We just do. There are certain things that happen as you grow older and you just have to deal with them. But what if you don’t know how? Or want to?

I turned 39 years young this year. I have no spouse. No kids. Nobody to wash my butt when I get old. Hey, it’s a thing!! But, it is what it is. Not much I can do about it. But along with that age admission comes, reality. Reality is like a bitch slap to the face sometimes and man, oh man, did I get a good backhand recently.

So the one part of getting older I don’t know how to handle doesn’t have anything to do with me. I mean, it does, but doesn’t.  I’ve always feared death. Not my own, but people I care about. We’ve had some scares. We’ve had some diagnoses. We’ve had some accidents. But it isn’t until it gives you the ol’ one-two punch that you realize that nobody is immortal; even if you want them to be. Or need them to be.

Recently my dad had a cancer diagnosis. The big, bad, C word. It’s funny really, how life works. He had a kidney stone (about time I’m not the only one who knows that pain), and he was going to get it blasted. To do so, they’d insert a stint into his you-know-what. You’re welcome….. Along the way they noticed tumors which indicated cancer. My mom was there, thinking they were doing a normal procedure, just to find out from some a-hole doctor who was in a hurry, that her husband of 40+ years had cancer. Yep, picture this jerk juggling his keys whilst telling my mother her husband has cancer.  I could damn near have an embolism over this (but my mom won’t tell me the doctor’s name which is smart on her part). So instead, they tell her they will get the results of the biopsy in ten day. TEN MF@#$*(@)#* days.

Days had never passed at such a painful pace. Checking my phone constantly waiting for “the call”. Leaning on friends, not knowing what to do or say. Acting normal but wanting to just stay home and cry for fear of the unknown. Thank God that we got the best news possible outside of a benign diagnosis.  But let me tell you about the in-between. The affect. I’m solely speaking from my angle as the only daughter of a father who just got diagnosed with cancer.

Your dad is indestructible. Your dad is strong. Your dad is the person who knows all the answers. So when there is the possibility that he may not be here for much longer; it’s goddamn scary. It puts things in perspective and it makes the bullshit .. well just that, bullshit. Every fight. Every word not spoken. Every hug not given. Just seems so damn stupid.

My dad is my go-to-guy. He’s the one person I’ve gone to my whole life for questions and answers about Life’s Moving Parts. Oil changes, money, moving, how to’s, etc. It’s been primarily ”business chats” lacking much outward emotion, but mostly because that’s how he is, and that’s how I am, and together we get by just fine. And together we are one awkward ball of love without knowing how to show or say it. It works for us. Or at least I thought it did.

You see, I’m the middle child, only girl. My dad worked hard for us building houses and slaving away on the north slope of Alaska. I didn’t appreciate it then. Instead I held grudges for the soccer games he missed, but also felt relief for the times he was gone when I knew I could get away with things. It was the proverbial double-edged sword.  But deep down, I saw how my friends interacted with their dads and I wanted that. I wanted that “daddy’s little girl” relationship but it had been so long since it’d been that way, that I didn’t know how to come back to it. I honestly don’t know if it really ever existed. It isn’t that I don’t know he loves me, because I know he does. It isn’t as though he doesn’t respect me, because I think he does. It’s that he and I are the same when it comes to showing emotions with one another. We just do it differently. I’m more comfortable buying you something rather than telling you how I feel. I will fix something for you to show I care. I will be there for you to show support. I am probably not the person you’ll go to for the shoulder to cry on. But if you need me to tell you how I feel, it probably isn’t happening; or at least it wasn’t. It made me wildly uncomfortable and I felt like a teenage girl asking a boy to the Sadie Hawkins dance. Awkward is a good describing word.  I wanted to say it. I wanted to show it. I wanted to express it, but it all felt so awkward. Until that day.

Until that day my mom called and said my dad had cancer. That was the day I decided to be done being afraid. Being awkward. Taking the easy way out.  I still wasn’t sure what to say when I talked to him. I didn’t want to shrug it off as though I wasn’t affected, but I didn’t want to jump in explaining how scared I was or how I didn’t know what I’d do without him. I wasn’t ready for that conversation quite yet. So we played the game as usual. “How are you?”, “Kidneys stones suck, eh?”… chatted for a few and then I had to go back to work. It was then, for the first time in quite possibly, my adult life, he ended our conversation with, “I love you.”   It sounds so small. So trivial. So insignificant. But I think when those words are spoken so often, you forget the significance. The impact. The power.  The sheer force. Although this time may be one of the worst I’ve been through thus far, I think it was a pivotal moment between father and daughter. A pivot that I think we’ve both wanted but weren’t sure how to make the first move. With that said… Dad, I love you. I am so thankful and grateful to be your only daughter. To be told I’m “so much like your father” is the best compliment I could receive. But I swear to God… if you ever do this to me again I will fly to wherever you are and give you a giant bear hug… and you and I both know that would be super awkward so let’s stay healthy, eh?

I am Woman, hear my Roar.

Ya know, I’d like to think I’m a pretty strong woman. From early on, growing up in the hills of the Butte playing with hatchets and building forts with my brothers and cousins, I dealt with some adverse situations that no child should ever encounter.  Then, this little tomboy moved to California where I fit in like Clampett at the Cleavers house, fighting and kicking ass and taking names. Moving into high school the reputation of tomboy stuck with me, but I used it to stick up for the underdogs and used my powers for the good of all (or so I’d like to think). In any case, I’ve been able to hold my own and I’m pretty proud to be an independent, strong woman. So when all of this #metoo business came about, I’ll be honest, I rolled my eyes and guffawed at the women coming out of the woodwork pointing fingers and placing blame, wondering why they hadn’t said anything or done anything before, and now felt the need to jump on the proverbial wagon. But you see, I’m a hypocrite. There are very few people who know about my childhood trauma and I chose, and will continue to choose, not to say anything because there are people who would be very affected; maybe more so than I was/am/could have been. It’s my choice just like it’s the choice of all of these women coming forth now. Good on them. Brava.

So what is this all about? I’m coming forth with a new event that recently occurred in my life that I just can’t seem to get out of my head. It’s like that one fly that keeps buzzing around and right when you think he’s gone, he comes back with a vengeance.

I worked at the Dimond Center Hotel bar for over a year mixing drinks, meeting cool people, chatting with locals and tourists, all the while really just enjoying my two days a week there. Then in October they hired a new Marketing Director who took over supervision of the bar. Fine. We were doing fine, the rest of the bar staff and I knew what we were doing. All was well until this guy comes in like he owns the place and starts making changes, getting rid of products and all the while not listening to any of our suggestions. As a matter of fact, told me point blank he didn’t want, and wouldn’t be asking for, our suggestions or opinions. I should point out he has never managed a bar or restaurant before. I should also point out; word on the street is he was fired from other hotels for misogynistic comments and/or actions. Meanwhile, he met with the other bartender and during that meeting yelled and cussed and left her in tears. He would walk into the bar arrogantly every day, talking down to me while offering up some new idea or concept he wanted us to promote. One time he had a “Cocktail specials” list that just listed various vodkas, gins, and other liquors. Ummm, not a cocktail list Mr.Doesn’tKnowWhatHe’sDoing.

Whatever, I could bitch and complain about it to my friends and to the other bartenders because we all knew he was a jerk and we were going to just let him sink his own ship. Until. He demanded that I show up to work one day an hour early to meet with him. I explained that I work full-time and leaving an hour early wasn’t happening. I said I would be there 30 minutes prior to my shift and we could talk then. I showed up and without addressing me in any way he said, “Upstairs conference room now.” I calmly explained that if this was how he was going to talk to me, that I was not going to proceed with the meeting. But I did. During the meeting he went on and on about how he came to the hotel to “save” the bar and restaurant because it was in the red and he did all of this work and all he got was attitude from me and the other bartenders and cooks and he just wanted a team. We didn’t do this or that or listen to this or that. When he was done with his rant, I calmly explained that we were a team and we all worked well together but he chose not to be a part of the team. He didn’t want to be a part of our group texts that we used to communicate when we ran out of things, when we needed a shift covered, etc. He was a dictator, not a team player. I explained that all we wanted was some respect and for him to listen to our suggestions because we knew our customers and we knew what people had suggested for menu items and we knew what worked and what didn’t. If he just “asked” for suggestions then all would be merry at the ol’ bar.  It was then that I could see something snap in him. It was scary. He slammed his hand on the table and yelled, “I DON’T HAVE TO ASK YOU FOR ANYTHING. I AM THE FUCKING BOSS! THE FUCKING BOSS! I DON’T ASK YOU, I TELL YOU WHAT TO DO AND YOU DO IT BECAUSE I AM THE FUCKING BOSS!.” I sat there calmly (on the outside, on the inside I was livid) and I retorted with, “Did you really just scream and curse at me?” and he said, “YES I DID!”. I explained that I had never, in all of my 38 years been yelled at or cursed at like that by anyone, especially not a grown man and that maybe if he was having problems with every single person he “managed” he should take a look at himself and his management style, because it obviously wasn’t working. He didn’t like that very much. He got up, turned the lights off in the room, and walked out. While I was still sitting in there. There’s a lot more in between these lines but it wasn’t worth mentioning. The point is, a grown man, a manager, had a temper tantrum and screamed and cursed at me. So I called the General Manager, explained what happened and he decides to call a meeting with the other bartenders. We talked about our issues and concerns and he point blank said, “I’m not going to fire him if that’s what you think.” And I knew right then and there he just waged a war with me and didn’t even know it.

To make a long story longer, I spoke to the CEO and to other corporate higher ups. I documented, emailed, talked on the phone, and followed up. After over a week of no communication, I emailed the CEO of the corporation and asked for an update. Radio silence. Then, through the grapevine, I find that the Old Man Gang (CEO, GM, Supervisor) met and decided that it hadn’t happened, he never yelled or cursed, and that was that. I sent an email resigning explaining that I wouldn’t work for a company that condoned that kind of behavior. Never heard back. All was said and done… or was it?

I’m finding myself in a psychological and moral conundrum. Do I let it go, move on, throw my fist in the air and admit defeat? Or do I push the issue? Do I file a suit with the U.S. Equal Employment Opportunity Commission and let them decide? Make them sweat a little. Part of me thinks that I should let it go and another part of me thinks this guy can’t keep getting away with this and he needs to know he messed with the wrong damn woman. I really want to stick it to the man but don’t want to be petty about it.

What would you do?