So This Is 39?

             

Well, I made it to level 39. Something I never thought I would accomplish. Something I think most of my generation quietly doubted we would ever see.

March 12th marked my 39th rotation around the sun. And damn… I’ve come a long way from the shores of Old Lyme, Connecticut. It’s been one hell of a ride.

Lately, I’ve been sitting with my past, and it’s got me feeling a certain kind of way. The kind that doesn’t stay quiet. The kind that ends up on the page.

So tonight, I’m bleeding a little truth onto the keyboard.

The ceremonial whiskey has been poured. Ice. Ginger ale. First sip taken.

Class is now in session.

What follows is not scripted. It’s as it comes—life experience shaping thoughts, reflections, and advice.

I might be younger than you, older than you, or from an entirely different walk of life.

My first bit of advice is this: we can learn from everyone, no matter their experience, age, or social standing.

We’re all gifted with our own lens to view the world, and you never know who will teach you something life-changing.

On the subject of regrets—I have many, but not all are worth mentioning. So welcome to my regrettable highlight reel.

Religion. It is not one-size-fits-all. One religion’s way of thinking does not invalidate anyone else’s viewpoint or ideas.

I regret the years of tithing, service, and participation in the Mormon religion. Like many, I was raised in my parents’ chosen faith. But truthfully, from my early teens on, I knew it wasn’t for me.

Being religious does not make you bad. But on the same hand, some of the most devious acts in human history have been done under the banner of someone’s chosen sky daddy.

Don’t be so pious that you can’t tell when something is fucked.

On the flip side of that regret—I met some amazing people.

My friend Charles in Idaho. I met him when he served his LDS mission in Connecticut. That connection eventually led me to Idaho, where I met his mom, Joy—who became like a second mother to me.

Brian. I met him in my early teens, and he was my DJ sensei. But truthfully, he’s always been more than that. He made time to get me out of the house, away from my parents, and just let me be me. That’s a priceless gift—one I still carry.

We still talk, usually early in the morning on my way to work.

Adam. I never would have met him if I hadn’t been part of the Sugar Salem Singles Branch. We both had our issues with the church, but we found connection in it—and even more outside of it.

I miss you, bro… wherever you are in the great beyond. The memories we made still live rent-free in my head, and they will for as long as I breathe.

There are others—some lost to time, some lost to life itself.

For all the time I spent going through the motions to please my parents, it wasn’t all wasted. Some of it bore good fruit.

Getting married young.

I can’t say I fully regret that path—it gave me the gift of my daughter. She will never be a regret.

But the urge to get married young was strong, and I’ve always had a weakness for redheads. The hard truth is, we were both broken people for different reasons. We didn’t fully share just how broken we were. We just coexisted in the chaos and figured it out as we went.

Since the dissolution of our marriage in 2017, we’ve both found different paths and perspectives. We’ve done our own therapy, walked our own roads. The first few years were the hardest, but we co-parent well now.

And I know we’d both rise to the occasion for our monkey.

Reflections? I’ve got a few.

When things reach critical mass, that is not the moment to start therapy. Do it when things first become consistently tense and uncomfortable. I was already on the fence before our first—and only—marriage counseling session.

The fight right before it… the water bowl thrown at my head before we even left… that sealed it for me. That was the moment I knew I was done.

The hardest part of that choice was realizing how much it would limit my time with my child. Something I didn’t fully understand until I was living it.

Truthfully, we had a lot of growing up to do—and a lot of mistakes to make. Unfortunately, we made them while we were married. And the one who paid for it most changed depending on the day.

Friends come in all shapes, sizes, sexes, and walks of life. But not all friendly people are friends.

Some show up for what you willingly offer—and take what they can. Others are drawn to the glow of who you are. Sometimes for good reasons. Sometimes for self-serving ones. And sometimes because they recognize a similar dysfunction and want a like-minded idiot to pal around with.

I regret the lack of boundaries—and self-worth—I had with some people. Some life lessons are expensive. Others come in the shape of people… and leave you with a little PTSD along the way.

It’s okay to be a giving person. But first, you have to be willing to give to yourself.

I say that because some people have no limit to what they will take from you.

Over time, I’ve made a few rules.

Don’t add friends to your cellphone plan. If they don’t have the financial stability to manage their own, it’s usually because they don’t pay their fucking bills. And eventually, you’ll be the one left holding the bag—and that bag gets expensive.

If you’re renting a room to a friend, have a legally binding contract. I know it feels very prenup. But you don’t really know who you’re living with until you’re actually living with them.

And if things go south, it’s a lot harder to evict someone on a handshake deal.

I know that to the tune of several thousand dollars I won’t see again.

If you can’t have that conversation before cohabitating—don’t cohabitate.

Friends will come, and friends will go. That’s the flow of life. Some goodbyes are harder than others.

Just remember—not all endings are a reflection of you. Every person on this planet walks a different path and fights a different fight.

Closure is often a trap. You have to find peace in the silent goodbyes. Cherish what was, but don’t live in the past while trying to survive the present.

You deserve to make new good memories—even when part of you still wants to hold on to what was.

Dating is a lot easier when you’re younger. Except everything feels more intense.

What you might cry about and move on from now could’ve been months of “the world is ending, woe is me” bullshit in your teens and twenties.

Sometimes you get caught in that trap of: are we doing this for fun, or are we doing this for feelings?

Be open and honest when and where you can. And sometimes—you won’t even know yourself.

Post-divorce, I was a prolific manwhore… with a conscience. I say that because I was always upfront about where I was at emotionally.

Simple as: this sounds fun, and I’m down if you are—but I’m not in a place to offer anything more than a good time right now.

If you can accept that, let’s go. But if you’re hoping it turns into something more, you’re the one who’s going to get hurt.

Honesty is the best policy. It’ll get you further than you think.

Getting laid is easy. Finding someone who sparks your soul is hard. Ending up in something undefined with someone who does spark your soul—but chooses a different path—is harder.

So that honesty rule? It applies to you, too.

Big feelings happen. And if expressing them might ruin what you have… don’t hold onto them just to keep something temporary. Say it.

Either it’s reciprocated—or you rip the bandage off and go buy some ice cream.

When someone shows you who they are, believe them. This applies to friendships, relationships, employers, family… it’s honestly one-size-fits-all.

I currently live in a five-bedroom house I don’t need. I bought it when I was with a previous ex. At the time, it fit everything—me, my hetero life mate, my child. It also fit her, her mom, her mom’s dog, and her two kids.

Her version of clean and mine were worlds apart. The way we lived was different. I told myself I was being judgmental for noticing it.

News flash—I wasn’t.

Those rose-colored glasses—the “this will change when we move in together” kind—shattered hard. It sucked when they broke. It sucked more when my limited time off was spent cleaning up after her family.

And it really sucked when I slowly became an ATM instead of a boyfriend.

Trust your gut. Follow your instincts. Call it when it needs to end.

I made a major financial decision that’s brought nothing but stress—for someone who forgot about me by our second Christmas together.

Don’t be an idiot like me.

The dating that followed that relationship was rapid-fire. I developed a simple rule: no, I don’t want to be a recurring guest on this soap opera.

What you see is often exactly what you get—use that to guide you.

I had a friends-with-benefits situation that turned into a genuinely great friendship. I also met a few people I had to bluntly tell—it wasn’t going to work.

Boundaries are a beautiful thing once you have them. They make life a lot easier.

Some people are meant to be a one-night stand. Some one-night stands go on way too long.

It’s okay to hit “next” when you need to.

I also started to recognize a pattern in myself—I was getting too serious, too fast. So I made a rule: no boyfriend/girlfriend relationships for a year.

I stuck to it.

It was worth it.

(More on that later.)

Respect yourself—always. It makes taking care of yourself easier, and it naturally carries over into how you treat others.

I’ve walked away from jobs, friendships, and more because of this rule. That wasn’t always who I was—this was post-divorce character development. Not something learned overnight, but something earned through experience.

When you know it’s time to go—go. You can be the one to end things.

Sometimes it’s scary. But I’ll take scary over disrespect every time.

Read. Listen to audiobooks. Podcasts. Keep learning.

It’s a lifelong pursuit—one that will serve you well. I wouldn’t have healed the way I did without looking for answers outside of myself.

No one person has all the answers. And the answers are not one-size-fits-all.

So get out into the world. Stretch your mental legs.

It’ll serve you well—and help you become a whole-ass person.

Growth is beautiful.

I’m not the person I was when I got married. I’m not the person I was when I got divorced. I’m not even the person I was four years ago.

And for all of that change—I’m exceptionally grateful.

I’ve lived with anxiety and depression for years. The depression has eased through this personal saga of growth. The anxiety found some relief in therapy.

Not every day is a win. But I will say this—I’m more me now than I’ve ever been.

I can be blunt, funny, grumpy… and well, sarcastic has always been a constant.

For all we know, we only get one shot at this thing called life. Don’t live it for others. By all means, make some friends along the way and enjoy the ride together—but you have to do things for yourself.

Life isn’t all burritos and strippers… but it’s also not meant to be spent making yourself small to appease others. Explore the world. Find passion in things.

We weren’t meant to work 40 hours a week and die.

While I don’t know everything, I feel like I’ve gathered a broad understanding of a lot. I hope some of these nuggets find meaning with you, dear reader.

Now for some confession—and a final bit of insight, because damn… this got long.

For years, I’ve been a holiday and birthday grump. That’s been well known. I’m not one to celebrate myself.

Truthfully, I’ve struggled with those things ever since my divorce—something I’ve never publicly said.

We split at the tail end of August 2017. Thanksgiving was hard. Christmas was hard. My birthday was hard.

I’ve had a hard time letting people make me feel special on those days—as a form of protection. I’ve been scared to let people get that close, only to risk them disappearing from my life.

I didn’t want to feel that low and lonely ever again.

So… that’s something I’m working on.

Shelby threw a small get-together for me this year, and it was the first time I’ve let anyone do that since I was married.

So yeah—growth is still happening.

Now, to wrap this all up—the one-year “no relationships” rule.

Shelby and I met on Tinder, of all places. Tinder gave me a relationship that ran its course, an amazing friend… and eventually, my partner.

I swiped first. Shelby will never let me live that down. Just like the fact that I said “I love you” first—that’s also permanently on record.

I was honestly intimidated to swipe. Shelby made it very clear that being able to hold a conversation mattered—and at that point, Tinder had me feeling like I sucked at that.

But when you meet the right person… the conversation just carries.

Our first date got rescheduled. I was bummed. I even considered declining the new plan. I’m really glad I didn’t.

Shelby had planned to pay for coffee—but forgot their wallet. That made me uneasy at first. Not long before that, I had been treated like an ATM.

But the conversation flowed. I relaxed.

And I walked away from that first meeting feeling recharged… refreshed… alive.

More dates followed. Eventually, Shelby met the Tiny Human. I met Shelby’s family. We went on adventures.

And in January 2023, my one-year rule expired.

We made it official—and we’ve stuck together ever since.

That doesn’t mean it’s always easy. We’ve had our trials. We both brought baggage into this. But we also brought experience—and the tools to figure things out together.

What I’m saying is this: we’ve both lived through things that didn’t go the way we thought they would. Things that blindsided us.

But the wait was worth it.

We get up each day and choose each other. We make it work. We learn. We grow.

And that brings me to the thread that ties all of this together—

Even with all the regrets along the way… I wouldn’t change anything if it meant risking where I am now.

We all make mistakes. We all have choices we wish we could take back. But whether we like it or not, it’s all part of the story.

And any story can turn into something beautiful.

So if things feel a little fucked right now… chin up. The story isn’t over yet.

And you’re the one holding the pen.

Bishop Brown :(: