Six Years
That’s how long it’s been since I last checked in here. I never stopped journaling. Even prior to my last entry on OD, when the site had been shut down, I’d transitioned to a different, private platform. I’ve been journaling there this whole time. But when I saw the yearly subscription fee hit my card a couple days ago, I couldn’t resist the pull.
I had never gone back to the beginning, where my OD journey began. But I did this time. 2005. In January, this diary will be 20 years old. That’s wild! And reading the entries of that angsty, chaotic, often confused 20-something girl I barely even recognize now was… well, it was a lot of things. It was cringe worthy, for sure. But it was also heartbreaking. It was anxiety-inducing. But it was also comforting and inspiring. There’s really something to be said of having a record of your life like this. To be able to look back at all the mistakes you made, yet see how you learned from them. To trace the timeline of your own growth.
It’s honestly kind of fascinating.
So much of my early adulthood centered, not around myself, but around others. And I guess that’s not all that uncommon. But it’s obvious I was searching for something, and I never found it. As cliché as it sounds, I know now that’s because what I was searching for wasn’t ever going to be found in another person. In a partner. I had to find it in me.
One thing that really stood out to me in my old entries is just how much I lied. I wasn’t lying to the OD community. I was lying to myself. I was trying to make myself believe that all the situations I got myself caught up in, the string of relationships one after another… that they were good. That they were a happily ever after. That they were what I wanted. Admitting to yourself that you’ve made one mistake after another is incredibly hard. Especially at that age when we still have so much to learn.
In some ways, I’m still very much like my 20-something-year-old self. I’m still a free spirit (maybe even more so), I still practice magick, I’m still a freak between the sheets (definitely even more so). I even still have the same job that I got hired for in 2006. Well, the role has obviously changed over the years. I’m a senior leader in the company now, but I’m even still working with some of the same people I deployed to Baghdad with in 2007. In other ways, you probably wouldn’t even recognize me now, both physically and mentally.
So, how do I sum up the last six years? Well, where did we leave off?
I had recently separated from my husband, and I’d just bought my own home in Colorado. At the end of June, 2018, I moved across the country after spending the last eight years in DC. I’m still in Colorado now, by the way, albeit in a different home I purchased last year. Settling in here, alone, was tough. Tougher than I anticipated. Chris continued to try to string me along with false hope of him eventually getting sober and moving out here to reconcile. But exactly 90 days after my arrival, which was the requisite amount of time, I filed for divorce. I made it as easy on him as possible. I filled out all of the paperwork, even his portion, and mailed it to him to sign. There were no fights over money or possessions. From a technical perspective, it was probably the easiest divorce the world’s ever witnessed. It was finalized in January of 2019.
I spent the next year in the throes of depression. I’d never truly experienced depression before, so it took me a little while to figure out that’s even what was happening. I became a sloth. My couch and I became one. I gave up all my hobbies, except eating, and my weight crept up higher and higher. Eventually, I realized I needed help from an outside party, and in April or May of 2019, I found a new therapist.
And boy, that was a life changer. I’d been in therapy before, but my prior therapist never truly gave me the tools I needed to work through trauma. I had a lot, too. Trauma going back to childhood that I uncovered with this new therapist. Trauma that I could now see weaving through every failed relationship I’d been in. I never got on medication. She and I both never felt I needed to. My depression wasn’t clinical, it was situational. We did, however, use EMDR as a treatment protocol, and even after the first session, it was like something just unlocked in my brain. And I started cleaning fucking house. Starting with my mother. In fact, we went no contact for years after I confronted her about some specific situations and behaviors from my childhood.
By the end of 2019, I was starting to feel like myself again. My therapist and I both agreed my time with her was done, and I was ready to rejoin the land of the living.
And of fucking course… the pandemic hit.
Most of 2020 was, well, probably not that much different from everyone else’s. My company used the opportunity to downsize offices permanently. Probably 75% of us work from home to this day, myself included. Fortunately, Rob and Evelyn moved to Colorado when I did, so we just formed our own little pandemic bubble. I spent every weekend at their house, breaking bread, playing board games and watching movies.
One notable thing that came out of that time period was that I really started to reevaluate my physical health. During my period of depression, my weight topped out at its highest ever. I was struggling with back pain from sitting at a desk all day and doing virtually no physical activity. I couldn’t even get up a flight of stairs without huffing and puffing, which was compounded due to moving to a high altitude area. So, I made a resolution. I made a commitment to myself. And I actually kept it. Over the next year and a half, I got an education. I truly learned about nutrition and making sustainable changes to my diet. I slowly incorporated exercise, starting first with just walking around my neighborhood and eventually adding in weight training. By mid-2021, I’d lost 75 lb. And I’ve been maintaining it ever since.
In fact, I’m currently in the best shape of my life. I hike the Colorado mountains regularly, sometimes 10-15 miles on a single outing. I’ve even climbed several 14’ers, including Pikes Peak. I snowshoe in the winters, and kayak and paddleboard in the summers. Earlier this year, I successfully completed my certification as an AFAA Group Fitness Instructor, and I teach dance/strength classes at a local gym on top of my day job.
Most notably, I stayed single for almost exactly six years. Intentionally. 20-year-old-me would never have dreamed of that! Don’t me wrong… I didn’t stay abstinent. Y’all know that would never happen. I had some consistent flings and there were two guys that I dated for a couple of months (both with red flags that all my prior experience helped me identify pretty early on), but nothing serious up until this year. And there was one main reason for it.
I needed to figure out who the fuck I was.
I’m officially at a point in my life where I don’t mask anything about myself. I don’t compromise on my values. I don’t try to hide my weird just to make other people more comfortable around me. Or to make people like me, for that matter. It’s reflected in everything I do, say, post… even my physical environment. Last year, I sold my cookie-cutter house in a suburban nightmare and bought a 1909 Dutch Colonial in the heart of the city where all my neighbors are weird, sociable artists like me. My home is my haven. I’ve systematically ditched all the stodgy, neutral furniture that Chris and I bought together, and my place is drenched in color and my own art pieces. I even have three separate altars on prominent display around my property. My home has become the gathering place for all my friends, of which I have many now!
There are a whole lot of things about myself that were under the covers for a long time, but that I’m fully embracing and showing to the world now. I’m a computer scientist and fitness instructor by day, but I’m a secular witch, an artist, a psychonaut, and a Reiki and sound bowl healer by night. My home is full of ghosts, and I talk to them on the regular. I’m covered nearly head to toe in tattoos now. I’m a political activist, and I come hard with my opinions. One of my best friends is trans. I’m bi and a swinger — that’s at least something that hasn’t changed, and boy, do I have some stories from the last few years. I’m also now a nudist and frequent naturalist camps and clothing-optional hot springs and beaches. But bottom line, I’ve come to realize that if these things bother someone, then that someone isn’t meant to be a part of my life.
And yes, I briefly mentioned it earlier, but I am in a relationship now. We have a hell of an origin story, that’s for sure. His name is Austin. We met in July of 2023 at none other than the Hedonism resort in Negril, Jamaica. We struck up a friendship, stayed in contact over the next year, and met up together in July of this year back where it all started. Obviously, there’s a lot more to the story than that, but this entry’s already way too long. The short version is that neither of us could deny the feelings that had grown. He currently lives in Memphis, so we’re doing the long distance thing for now. He’s flown here to see me a couple of times already, and I’m actually boarding a plane to Memphis tomorrow afternoon. He met all my friends here on his last visit, and I’ll be meeting his family in just a couple days. So, yeah, after six years of solo life (and if I’m being truthful, unsure if I’d ever want a serious relationship again), I’m happily attached!
I honestly want to spend an hour gushing about him, about us, about our fateful meeting and the wild synchronicities that have shown up. But the important part is that this man has known the real me since day one. I was never trying to impress him. I was never trying to date him. Not in the beginning anyway. He got no-holds-barred Rachel from the start. And that’s who he fell in love with.
Funny how that works. When you stop looking, when you start being the most authentic version of yourself, when you start living for yourself… you attract in the most unexpected, wonderful things. I don’t have a crystal ball. I can never know for certain what my future will hold. What my future with him will hold. What I do know, though, is that whatever happens, I’ll be okay. I know who I am now. And I know how to thrive on my own. And nobody can ever take that away from me.
Cheers,
Felina