A Beautiful Disaster

Everything in my life was so fantastic this past year.

I moved into D.C. proper and absolutely loved it. I checked off a huge item on my bucket list by seeing John Mayer in concert. I enjoyed the dating scene.  I gave a speech at my hospital on living with cystic fibrosis. I marched on the National Mall and protested at the White House.

I also celebrated turning 30 for the entirety of 2017. How? I finally visited New Orleans with one of my best friends (who also turned 30 this year); I did a NYC weekend getaway with my aunts and mom for a dual festivity (her 60th, my 30th); I surprised one of my best friends at her own 30th birthday bash; and, to top it all off, I went to Paris for my actual birthday week.

Aaaaaand then everything crashed and burned when I came back to the states. Legitimately every aspect of my life. Welcome to 30, Erica.

In my work life, four people on my team quit. This happened months ago, granted, but hiring replacements was taking forever. After somewhat managing for a period of time, the lack of employees plus the (still) high expectations and workload minus the required time and training equaled crashing into a brick wall and promptly drowning (my two-week Paris vacation surely fast forwarded this outcome). I was now doing the job of three people–and somehow found myself in the center of advertising, a field I always dreaded and avoided like the plague.

In my physical life, Paris got to my body. A bad sinus infection quickly traveled to my lungs. I had a fever for four days and a painful cough that produced blood. Instead of watching the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day parade, I watched a nurse hook up my PICC line that morning for a two-week course of IV antibiotics. Oh, and turns out one of the medications permanently damaged my inner ear. Thus began my intense vertigo and balance troubles–the conclusion of which is still TBD.

In my love life, I ended a two-month courtship after realizing I deserved better. I’d been unhappy for several weeks but kept holding on because of the serendipitous way we met. After a deep conversation with my nurse about the future and finding love–“Erica, you’ll find someone who doesn’t care about all of this”–I had to go to the lab to get bloodwork. He was my phlebotomist (so fitting) and we immediately clicked. Even though we were very different physically–he was bald, black, and covered in tattoos–we had a lot in common. We managed to finish each other’s sentences after only a week of talking.

“So why are you still single?” he asked at one point. ONLY THE WORST QUESTION EVER. I told him I didn’t really know, but I did push people away because of my health. I told him about my medical situation. And his response was exactly what I needed to hear: “Well, I disagree with you pushing people away because of it–someone will love you no matter what–but I can tell that this has made you strong.”

Being in the medical field, he didn’t care or mind one bit. In fact, he already knew what a PICC line and breathing treatment were. He called me every night he got off of work at the hospital. We bonded over our love for the same music and the Yankees. I called him from New York. He called me from Arizona.

“We’re moving very slow, but I like it,” I told my friends. “This one feels different to me.” He was so direct and open–apparently many military men are like this (he was a Navy vet). He seemed to fall hard and fast, which scared me. He was the most romantic person I’ve been involved with. After travel kept us apart for weeks, we were both out in D.C. with friends. My phone rang shortly after I got home from a friend’s party.

“Where are you?” he asked.

“Home.”

“I’ll be there in 5 minutes. And I want you to know that I’m going to kiss you.”

Sure enough, there was a knock on my door. I opened it and he grabbed me and kissed me on my doorstep. Our first kiss.

Then some unattractive qualities started to expose themselves. He blew off our second date because he was hungover. He’d make plans with me but forget he had prior commitments. He couldn’t handle conflict and immediately shut down when I voiced my annoyance at his flakiness and disrespect of my time. But it was so crazy that our paths crossed immediately after that conversation with my nurse. I believe in signs and I couldn’t let this obvious one go. Didn’t our meeting happen for a reason? It couldn’t be for nothing.

Then he did one of the shittiest things ever: he stood me up on my birthday plans, which by the way, was his idea in the first place. Furthermore, he didn’t speak to or see me when I returned from Paris. Yet, shortly before I left, he claimed he wanted me to be his girlfriend. That’s when I called it quits.

I knew he wasn’t a bad person. I was so happy to find another person who didn’t care about my diseases. He had qualities that I really liked, but I didn’t deserve this treatment. It was time for me to stick to my guns and practice what I preach. I won’t settle and I fucking mean it. Maybe that was the reason behind all of this? I’m proud of myself for not only knowing my worth but sticking to it unapologetically. I know I made the right decision.

So that’s where I’m at in a nutshell as I begin 2018. It’s all a cycle. The ups and downs of life. Being on the up for a whole year is actually pretty amazing when you think about it. Now it’s time to accept the cascade down and learn to live in this space just the same.