4th of July, 2017 was a splendid day.
My boyfriend and I went to the top of the US Bank building in Downtown LA – the tallest view in the West Coast. We dressed up in red, white, and blue formal attire. Over a gin Vesper I looked below as the fireworks of Dodger Stadium popped. I felt like Leo in the Titanic, the king of the world, and everything was looking up. It was an American Dream: good health, a wonderful family, an adorable boyfriend I lived with, a job that paid well and was fulfilling.
3 days later, my dad was dead.
A few months later, I was in a serious car accident.
A month after that, I lost my job.
And a few months after that, my boyfriend dumped me, weeks after our anniversary.
None of these events were related other than that they happened to me in one giant annus horribilis, a term applied to Queen Elizabeth’s “horrible year” of 1992.
In 1992, the 66-year-old Queen saw 3 of her 4 children divorced or separated in a fury of embarrassing tabloid affairs, culminating in a major fire at her home, Windsor Castle.
46-year-old Donald Trump’s horrible year was also 1992, where 3 of his casinos filed for bankruptcy and he divorced from his wife Ivana after an embarrassing tabloid affair with Marla Maples.
And here I was, 25 years later and age 26, and it felt like the world collapsed around me leaving dust, blood, and the sting of regret.
Everything I thought was stable was horribly, terribly fragile. I was living under an illusion that these things would last, that I had built an effective and sturdy foundation for the next 5 years and beyond. That stability was something I never had. And that stability made me complacent.
I sit here, on the 4th of July 2018, looking out at a neighbor’s fireworks from the roof. I’m not at the top of the world, but I’m on a stable foundation. I’m back to square one.
As crazy as it sounds – I’m happier now than I was a year ago today. I thought I had everything, but it was all an illusion.
Things change.
Businesses change course.
People change how they feel.
Our bodies are changing, cell-by-cell, constantly.
I thought these changes would break me, but these change allowed me to survive. These changes allowed me to grieve a parent, forgive, hold them in memory. These changes allowed me to find two jobs now where I truly can apply my knowledge and creativity. These changes allowed me to get out of a relationship that was toxic and suffocating. These changes allowed my body to strengthen, regenerate, and heal.
Most importantly, these changes allowed me the opportunity to get out of every comfort zone to do things, just to see if I could.
I adopted a rescue dog who’s sweet and loving.
I spent a month entirely sober.
I’ve been on truly memorable dates.
Ok, I can’t share any of THOSE photos
I’m starting a nonprofit and have so many other exciting projects taking off.
I have more irons in the fire than ever, and I love it. None of these were remotely possible a year ago.
I also know now that nothing is stable and nothing is forever. Someday, my dog will die. My mom will die. I’ll get sick. My current jobs will cease. I’ll go through a breakup. My businesses will shutter and my projects will hit a wall.
Twenty-five years ago, things looked dim for people who had everything: family, wealth, businesses, stability.
Twenty-five years later, Queen Elizabeth is the longest-serving monarch in British history, an icon of British culture and beloved by her nation and children.
Donald Trump is a happily-married billionaire and President of the United States.
I thought twenty-five years from now I’d have both my parents, be happily married to my boyfriend with a kid going off to college, be a sales impresario, and somehow manage to not need staples in my head.
But I’m still here, the Queen still reigns, Trump’s still President, and I have the best gift in the world – an opportunity to start fresh and be the Wyatt I want to be.
I’m reborn on the 4th of July, ready to live the American Dream.
