The Dumpster Fire Known as ‘2020’

If you think your year sucked, wait until you read about mine

I knew at the very beginning of 2020 that it was going to be “A Year to Remember.” Unfortunately, not in the best of ways. We witnessed a lot of crazy stuff that year such as a global pandemic, survived the invasion of Murder Hornets, the Defense Department admitted UFOs exist, World War III almost started, and Mr. Peanut was killed off. I felt like I was one doomsday away from winning Apocalypse BINGO. All I needed to check off with my BINGO dabber was “Massive Volcano Eruption” and “Alien Invasion.”

Despite feeling as though I was caught in the middle of a game of Jumanji, only two good things happened to me in 2020: I bought an RV and took a trip to Las Vegas. I did not win big or anything. I just enjoyed going and I had a blast. However, the day after I returned, things went down hill and fast.

The moment I knew 2020 was going to suck was in February when I $h!t my pants. If you ever needed a moment that you could freeze frame a moment in your life, see Jeff Foxworthy walk in and say “Here’s your sign,” that was it. There I was, a grown woman — who has always had control of her bowel movements — just shat in her yoga pants on the way to work. I was utterly confused, mortified, and had no idea why or how it happened. All I knew was that I was thankful that I had leather seats in the car and prayed that my husband would still be asleep when I got home to clean up and recover any decency I had.

Shortly after the poop blow-out, I was having some significant health problems. Every time I ate, I broke out into a cold sweat, doubled over in pain, and went to the Emergency Room more than once. The cause of such tormoil: A clogged gallbladder and inflamed pancreas. I was relieved when they said, “You need surgery.” I practically jumped out of bed, found some open-back nightgown, and was going to wheel myself to wherever the scalpel was. To my disappointment, I was told that due to the COVID-19 pandemic that the hospitals were not doing any surgery and was unknown when the procedure could take place.

There I was in pain. Every. Single. Day…for 87 days to be exact. I pleaded with the hospital to remove it. Finally — I think out of just being sick of hearing from me — they took it out. I recovered and thought that maybe my year could finally be back on the upswing.

WRONG.

Part of 2020’s diabolical plan involved my husband had a mental breakdown and nearly lead to our divorce. After being together for 20 years, I was suddenly smacked with the idea that I was going to divorce my best friend. I was distraught and never imagined that would happen to us. We were able to get him the help he needed after a long and difficult road, but that took an emotional toll on me. Just when I thought his road to recovery was paved and we can move on, my poor husband had a heart-attack and had to get two stints put in…at the young age of 40. *Someone, pass me a pint of Ben and Jerry’s and a tissue please*

I was exhausted by this point; Especially since we were in the middle of transitioning our lifestyle to full-time RVing and already sold about 75% of our belongings to start living tiny. Determined to not have to rent a storage unit to complete the lifestyle, mostly everything went. Except for the Tempurpedic mattress which I was able to modify the size via turkey carver so I could cram it into the RV.

By some miracle, I was able to pull it off despite a record breaking Hurricane season along the Gulf Coast. By the time the seventh named storm hit us, I got to the point that I simply shrugged my shoulders, poured a whiskey, and went “meh.” Hurricane Sally decided to troll us a little and not only do an odd boomerang move, but she hit us head on and increased in strength. The rental home we resided in was trashed. The storm ripped the shingles and vent caps off, rain leaked into the living room, destroyed the carpet, uprooted the fence, and a tree nearly took out the house. To this day, I’ve yet to find our mailbox. The only good thing from the event was that I figured out a way to McGyver a cup of coffee using cheesecloth, mason jar, a K-cup, and a pot of hot water.

Let’s tally this up so far, shall we?

✔️ Gallbladder

✔️ Near-Divorce

✔️ Heart Attack

✔️ Hurricanes

By this point, we’re knocking on October. I already went home once to check on my dad’s waining health, I’ve had several members check up on my from my near-divorce breakdown, and I started to see a counselor to help me manage my stress and anxiety. Just when I thought things were at the lowest, December sucker-punched me when I got the call, “You need to come home.” My dad’s health took a turn for the worse and he died a few days before Christmas.

I had never been so happy for a year to end in my life and I’m convinced the Mayan’s did a horrible job predicting 2020. This year has been much easier to manage. Although it started out pretty sketchy when I heard my mother got hit by a car while out for a walk and her dog died on impact. (She’s fine though thank goodness!) Other than that, 2021 has been pretty good. *knocks on wood*

Eat $h!t 2020. 🖕

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