2011: In Retrospect

It's amazing to think that this time last year, I had such high hopes for 2011. It was supposed to be the year that everything changed for the better. I was supposed to graduate college, commission, start my career, get married, among other, smaller things. To be fair, some of that did happen, and then some.

But a lot of it didn't. A lot of it went terribly wrong.

I sit here now reminiscing about the past year of my life. The beginning of it held so much promise. I started it off with a (presumably) healthy relationship and it was officially my last semester. Everything was nearly perfect, and then it all started falling apart.

It really began in March, when Andrew and I broke it off for what is and will remain the last time. There comes a point in time when what you thought was good for you and what actually is begin to diverge. The worst part is I think we just denied it and continued on like nothing had changed when, in fact, everything in the world had.

Then I found out I was failing a class and there were so many administrative issues that I was scared to death that I wouldn't be able to commission on time (or at all). There, of course, is a bright side to this one. Everything literally worked out at the last minute, and here I am, a college graduate and a 2nd Lieutenant. It doesn't mean it was or still is any less stressful.

I also remember the miracle of finding someone else to love--or maybe he found me. I remember how it felt like home and how I honestly thought that it could last forever. I had become so cynical about love, and here was someone who showed me it wasn't so bad, after all, or so I thought. To this day, I can't believe I could ever be so naive, but I was. I was so naive and trusting that I let it all decay into nothing, but not before it became something twisted and ugly. Not before it tore away everything.

That was in June. I still miss him in a lot of ways.

On to Florida in July... Everything looked like it might actually go right--and then the fall. I was held back two months before I could start my training. I have six months left now. That never seemed like such a huge amount of time as it does right now.

Don't get me wrong. It's not like I don't love my class. There's not a single one of them I wouldn't mind hanging out with. I don't dislike any of them. They're fun, and we like to joke around with each other. It's a nice break from reality. So no, it's not the training. It's not even the base. It's Florida. It's Panama City. It literally and figuratively stinks. The air is so thick you can't even breathe. The drivers are completely insane. Need I go on? Bottom line: I hate Florida. I had such high hopes for it, and it only disappointed.

In September, we lost Brownie, or Mr. B., the horse who taught me how to ride. He was like a brother, and there I was a thousand miles away. I don't think I've ever felt so helpless.

In October, we lost Cindy, our broodmare and love.

November came and went. I took a moment on the 11th to think of what could have been, but it'll never be. In a way, I'm happy. In a way, it hurts, too. Sometimes you have to give up the things you think matter in order to grow into the person you were always meant to be. I just wish I knew what that was supposed to be.

So here I sit in December, looking back. We lost Luke on Saturday. I don't know if we'll ever see him again. I doubt it more and more with each day that passes. That, along with everything else, makes me wonder if Christmas will be as cold as I feel inside. Will the New Year bring a wind of change, or will all of this continue? Realism dictates that it will be the latter, but I find myself hoping for something to pull me out of this ungodly pit of sorrow and regret.

I keep hoping the foundations will stop crumbling, and I won't have to be scared of falling through anymore.

The Experience of a Lifetime

As many of you know, I finally took the opportunity to see someone who has given me so much strength for the past several years--especially the last several months--this past weekend. His songs have helped me through so very much, and I am eternally grateful for the light that would shine for me even when I didn't have the strength or want to get up in the morning. It was a promise that eventually the pain would end and day would come again someday. I'm certain we've all faced times such as this and perhaps music has helped in some way. For me, it was Josh Groban.

Regardless of how you feel about the guy or his music, pause and take a moment to consider that getting to see Josh in concert was the single greatest thing that has happened to me in a while. Here is someone whom I've never met, yet his songs have spoken to me in a such way that allowed me to recover from some of the worst times of my life. No, I don't know him and I never will, but his music will always be that one constant that never steps out even when I'm at my worst. I believe there is something to be said for that.

The drive to Orlando took over six hours. I saw some beautiful country and drove through the horse capitol of Florida, Ocala, but I really didn't stop to enjoy it because I really wanted to get to my destination. I actually forgot that I was going back to East Coast time until I got there and realized the concert was starting in an hour--not two, like I'd planned on when I left--so I wouldn't get to have a nice sit-down meal on one of the nearby restaurants. I was so excited that I barely even noticed I hadn't eaten, anyway, so I didn't even get anything after I was in the Amway Center.

Everything was a blur there for about an hour or so. The opening act, ELEW, was just amazing, but I was starting to get horribly impatient. I discovered Josh my junior year in high school and even though that was over five years ago I didn't want to wait another minute to finally see him. It didn't matter that I was in Section 208. It had been long enough!

Then the lights dimmed.

The "mini-orchestra" started playing an instrumental version of "Straight to You."

I was holding my breath in anticipation. This was it!

The crowd on the floor began to cheer. The spots lighted on that familiar curly-haired figure. He was waving as he hurried to the stage and even after, he greeted his fans at 360 degrees. He was wearing a white t-shirt, a black suit jacket, blue jeans and sneakers. I smiled at that odd combination, but it seemed fitting of him.

He sat down at this small little upright and began playing "February Song," and I sang along until the emotions wouldn't let me anymore. Tears welled up and choked out my small little voice in that gigantic stadium. I couldn't believe it. I was finally here. It was so surreal. And to start with "February Song" made it even more emotional. "Where is that simple day/Before colors broke into shades/And how did I ever fade/Into this life?" Those words hit me so much more than they ever had before, as did almost every other song that followed.

At the beginning of every new song, I kept thinking "This is one of my favorites!" or "I love this song!" It had no end. All told, there were only two songs he didn't play ("Awake" and "Remember When It Rained") that I would have loved to hear. I consider that a success.

"War At Home" just killed me.

"Bells of New York City" was just beautiful.

"Broken Vow" made me cry all over again.

And when he talked about "Higher Window" right before he sang it, I lost it even more.

The whole concert gave me some closure to parts of my life. At the same time, it allowed me to think about some things and reassess. I'd like to think it opened some new doors, too. Even though I only managed to get a wave from Josh from across the street after the concert had ended, I still felt fulfilled. It's hard to explain how or why. I really don't know, but maybe one day I will.

After sleeping in Orlando that night, I went home with the courage to face a few things I'd been pondering how to confront. I also got scared and slammed a few doors, but that's all right. Maybe one day I'll be able to open them back up and greet what's on the other side with confidence. I'm just not there yet. The point is--and this may sound a little stupid and corny--on Saturday night Josh made me realize that anything is possible, given time...and the only way to confront time is with patience.