Life’s a garden and shit is my only fertilizer.

“You’re more mature than most adults.”

“You’re just an old soul.”

“You’re wise beyond your years.”

I had been told multiple variations of these sentiments throughout my childhood and adolescence from adults who probably should have realized these things were actually red flags. Oh well.

As I’ve become older, these sentiments have morphed into something like “Wow, you’ve lived a lot of life!”

And maybe they’re right?

At 18, I had my first stalker. Thankfully, he didn’t physically harm me, but it was a psychological mindfuck I couldn’t shake.

At 20, I was sexually assaulted and had to deal with the same guy harassing me for over a year. I had to talk my brother out of driving down to kill the guy and telling my parents.

At 22, I had to make the call to take my dad off life support because my mom genuinely couldn’t decide. This was also the first time I had ever seen her early-onset Alzheimer’s symptoms in action, but I didn’t realize that at the time.

At 24, my brother walked me down the aisle at my wedding. He told my husband to “take care of her.” That evening, we planned on him coming to visit for a while. Nine days later, he died from a self-inflicted gunshot wound. His funeral was the first I had ever planned. I still wonder how the fuck I made it through delivering the eulogy without sobbing, let alone shedding a single tear.

At 26, I was divorced. I was heartbroken but knew we weren’t a good fit. Later that year, I fell in love. He was The One for me. I was The One for him. It was perfect.

At 29, The One broke my heart and mind like no other. I have PTSD because of his abuse. I left Washington for Colorado because I couldn’t bear to know we were even in the same state. To this day, my heart still stops when I see a particular kind of black pickup truck.

At 31, I lost my stepdad. Seeing him love my mom and damn near worship the ground she walked was one of the best things I ever witnessed. It was the love she deserved to have all along.

At 34, I told Colorado to eat a big bag of dicks and relocated to the east coast. I experienced my first (and hopefully last) stint in a psychiatric hospital a few months later.

At 34, I also lost my mom to Alzheimer’s. I had to say my goodbyes to her via FaceTime from my office at a job I absolutely hated because we weren’t sure if she would make it by the time my flight arrived. I asked my mom to wait for me, and she did. She passed a couple days after I arrived.

Now I’m 35.

-I’m the only surviving member of my immediate family. It’s SO weird to think about.

-My extended family isn’t very big, but they’re wonderful and I love them.

-I don’t see myself ever falling in love again, but I’m open to the possibility.

-I won’t ever have children, but I’m an honorary auntie.

-I have a great career, but I know I’m not done growing within my field.

-My social circle is smaller, but the people who are still there are some of the best people I will ever know.

At 35, I’m finally realizing I’ve been through some shit. And if growing up in Bumfuck, WA taught me anything, shit can make for great fertilizer. Here’s to seeing what grows from that shit.

Cheers.