Love never dies.

I’ve been thinking about writing this for days, and I need to get it over with.

I need to write about Penny.

I don’t know where to start, so I’m going to start from the beginning.

Penny was my birthday present for my 26th birthday. My family knew I wanted a small dog, and my aunt called me one day and told me I had a dog. A Pug.

Sweet!

I will never forget the day I met Penny. I remember holding her and thinking that I wasn’t expecting her little face to be that cute.

She had a perfect Pug forehead full of wrinkles. They were so adorable!

Penny came home with me to my mom and dad’s house that night. The intention was for me to bring her back to my apartment in eastern Kansas that weekend.

But here’s the thing about Penny: Penny did not understand how to be a puppy. She screamed at me. She spit in my face. She whined and cried all night while I slept by her with a pillow and blanket by the floor.

This cute little Pug puppy turned into a demonic monster almost immediately the day I brought her home. She was so difficult my family and I decided she was the worst dog we’d ever had.

I went back to eastern Kansas without her. My parents kept her for a while, and when Penny drove them to the point of insanity, Penny went to live with Uncle Jeff for a while.

Penny became the Springer family Pug.

I got her anxiety medicine for separation anxiety, and a few months later Penny made the trek east for me.

About a week later, she chewed her way through an electrical cord in my bedroom when she was bored one night while I was sleeping.

When I realized what happened, I took her to the vet to make sure the burn marks in her mouth weren’t anything serious.

The vet I went through asked me a lot about Pugs. He asked me if I had ever owned one, and when I said no, that old man got a twinkle in his eye.

He told me that they were the best dogs ever. He told me that out of all the dog breeds, this breed was so special that it has its own festival, called Pugfest.

The vet told me Penny was an idiot, but she was fine health wise. And the the vet told me to check out Pugfest sometime.

From that moment in life became about Penny and me. We went walking, we checked out dog parks - there was a Great Dane that loved little dogs who always came into our area of the park to check Penny out (with my permission.). She loved playing with him.

Penny turned out to be the best dog ever.

The thing about Penny is that she was never a friendly, outgoing dog. Penny had her close circle of trust - people who raised her as a crazy puppy - and she only really liked those people and no one else.

Penny was with me in an apartment, she bought a house with me, and she met every single guy I ever dated.

Which brings me to my favorite story about her. Penny played fetch with every single guy I ever dated. Please make sure you understand that - Penny played fetch with them, on purpose. Not the other way around.

Penny would sit on the couch between me and whoever I was dating, and she would have her favorite little tennis ball in her mouth. She would spit it out, on the floor, on purpose.

Then Penny would look at whichever guy was sitting beside her. The guy would inevitably get up, get the tennis ball, and give it back to her.

She did this repeatedly until I told the guy to stop chasing the ball.

When the guy got up, Penny would look up at me. She just gave me a look and I understand what she meant by that look.

No guy I ever dated was smart enough to figure out that Penny was playing fetch with them on purpose. Judging by the look she gave me, she knew that, too.

Like really, Mom? This is what I have to work with?

Penny, I’m sorry. I tried but none of them were good enough for you.

Another story about Penny as a puppy: I worked out of town and out of state a lot when she was little. My parents would watch her for the week while I was away.

One night, I was in Nebraska and my Mom called me. She was cussing and screaming and I honestly didn’t know she knew that many cuss words.

I didn’t do anything to deserve that anger, so I just kind of let it go.

After a minute or two, I figured out what my Mom was mad at. Penny Pug, as a puppy, killed a rat in my mom and dad’s backyard, then brought the rat into the house and buried it in my mom’s living room couch.

My Dad was out, so my Mom was left to deal with a dead rat in the house.

I don’t see the problem in saving a little snack for later. 🤷‍♀️

Penny was the best thing that ever happened to me. The worst birthday gift I ever got turned out to be the biggest blessing in my life.

—-

Grief is a wild ride.

I knew that losing Penny would be devastating. I knew that it would destroy me and I knew I wouldn’t be okay for a long time after that.

I don’t know if it’s normal to obsess over a song and have that be the song you listen to when you're crying your eyes out, but for the past week I’ve been obsessed with The Architect by Kacey Musgraves.

Even something as small as an apple
It's simple and somehow complex
Sweet and divine, the perfect design
Can I speak to the architect?

And there's a canyon that cuts through the desert
Did it get there because of a flood?
Was it devised, or were you surprised
When you saw how grand it was?

This is hard to write about, but someone smart once told me that when you write about something, you start to heal from it.

So we’re going to talk about the hard stuff now.

Guys, I’ve been thinking about this all week. I understand life, I think, and I understand death, I think, and I understand that life is a part of death and that death is a part of life.

I have seen death through work, a lot, and I know in my head that all things that live will eventually die.

I told my parents not too long ago that I didn’t think Penny would live to the end of the year. I got her for my birthday in April, so I really wanted her to live to see her gotcha day anniversary.

Penny’s body started declining, and it happened to rapidly that I’m still in shock at how fast it was.

I regret a lot about the last few weeks of her life. Penny, I’m so sorry you suffered. You deserved so much better.

One night, I took her to the best place in the state to help her, which was a university veterinary hospital a couple of hours away from my house.

They took her for an after hours emergency appointment.

I sat in the waiting room and I cried so hard that there were actually sores on the sides of my eyes from my tears.

Guys, I know what the answer is to this situation, but I just wanted someone to tell me out loud that it was time.

And no one told me that. They gave Penny medicine for one month and dodged the rest of my questions.

I left that university town around 9:30 p.m., and I drove back to my city. I am not a fan of nighttime driving, and I was so tired that I just prayed that I would stay awake and get us all home safely.

Was it thought out at all, or just paint on a wall?
Is there anything that you regret?
I don't understand, are there blueprints or plans?
Can I speak to the architect?

It was me, alone on the interstate, driving in total darkness. There were a lot of clouds out that night, and I remember searching the sky, trying to see stars.

I finally found some, and as soon as I found the stars, I realized something and I will never forget that moment.

That was the moment that I realized that I loved this dog so much that I was willing to end her suffering. I knew that she would not survive this ordeal, and I told myself that I had to be strong enough to let her go.

That night when I got home, I got Penny situated and put her in bed. I got down on the ground and had a conversation with her. I told her that she was free to stay around for as long as she wanted. I told her that I would cancel my travel plans, get her whatever medicine she needed, and give her oxygen if she needed it.

I told her that I would make her end days as comfortable as possible.

And then I told Penny that she didn’t have to stay if she didn’t want to. I told her that if she wanted to go, I would let her go.

I told her that she didn’t have to stick around for me. I was ready if she was ready.

I kissed her, told her goodnight, and then told her that she needed to tell me if it was time.

The next morning when I woke up, I knew instantly that it was time.

Penny told me loud and clear.

Sometimes I look in the mirror
And wish I could make a request
Could I pray it away? Am I shapeable clay
Or is this as good as it gets?

I didn’t realize that Penny was holding on because I was holding on. She wasn’t willing to let go until she knew that I was strong enough to let go.

I made the last few hours of Penny’s life the best day ever. I bought her a double cheeseburger. I put her in bed beside me, and I turned my Bluetooth speaker on.

I played Penny and Me, the song that she is named after. I played it on repeat and I explained to my dog that my best friend and I found this band when we were little. I told Penny about that band, how I had a meet and greet with them, and how the song that she is named after is 20 years old.

Penny was almost 14 years old. I told her that I loved that song so much, I knew that I wanted to name my dog after it.

I sat on that name for six years until I got a dog of my own.

Then I played her all of the other music in my life. I told her about concerts, about meet and greets and plane rides and big cities and the people I’ve met along the way.

Pickles came and laid by Penny. I turned a lamp on for some soft lighting, and we chilled out and listened to music in her final hours.

I told her that she was going to this place called the Rainbow Bridge, and that there would be dogs waiting for her on the other side. I told her that she would get to meet my childhood dogs, Socks and Patches, and then I named off all the other dogs my family has had over the years.

I told her that there would be no pain, only happiness and warmth. I told her she would not be alone.

I never realized how much dogs can completely wreck you. I heard a saying that the reason people love dogs so much is because the only time they break your heart is when their heart stops beating.

One day, you're on top of the mountain
So high that you'll never come down
Then the wind at your back carries ember and ash
Then it burns your whole house to the ground

When I brought Penny home, she was wrapped in my arms in love and warmth and kindness.

She left the world in the same way. I got in her sweet little beautiful face because I wanted to be sure that I was the last person she would see before she left the world - not a doctor’s office or people she didn’t know.

She drifted off to sleep, started snoring, and then that was that.

I really wanted to take her to a nature area by my house on her final day. I wanted her to relax in the sunshine and breathe in fresh air.

When I woke up that morning, it was 45 degrees and raining. I knew instantly why the weather was the way it was.

This dog was so special that even God cried the day she left this earth.

Like I said earlier, in theory, I understand life and I understand death. I understand that death is a part of life and that life is a part of death.

To say that I am struggling right now is an understatement. This grief is so real that there are moments when I honestly just can’t function.

I can’t believe I live in a world where Penny doesn’t exist.

Is it thought out at all, or just paint on a wall?
Is there anything that you regret?
I don't understand, are there blueprints or plans?
Can I speak to the architect?

I went to a concert a week after she passed away. Guys, I would have skipped that concert in a heartbeat if she were still alive. At one point, I thought about taking the dogs with me and driving Penny to the ocean so she could see the beach before she died.

But life is cruel and what happened happened.

I thought about not going. I was so mad at the world and hurt and grieving that I thought about staying home and sulking in my grief, sadness and depression.

I left for that concert when I really didn’t want to, and for that, I am really proud of myself. I wore Pug shoes with sunglasses on them to the concert, for Penny.

I had a moment where I was singing my favorite song by my favorite artist that I thought about Penny and I wondered if she was proud of me for trying to be happy.

And then I lost it. I cried so hard in that dark crowded room and I didn’t even try to hide it. The house lights came on and I remember turning all around, looking at the people around me and looking at the total bliss and euphoria on their faces.

Somehow that night, the music seemed sweeter. The vibe around me was vibing and I don’t know if it was the sadness or grief, but the music I heard that night was the best music I had ever heard in my whole entire life.

My favorite song of his? That was the best version of it I’ve ever heard. The song after that? Best version ever. Wash, rinse, repeat.

It felt like that was the first time I had ever seen this guy in concert or heard his music. (Hint: I’ve done this a few times now.)

Someone asked me after the concert if I was okay, because I had visible tear stains on my cheeks.

I don’t remember my response, but in my head the answer was no.

I am not okay.

I thought that I was too broken
And maybe too hard to love
I was in a weird place, then I saw the right face
And the stars and the planets lined up

And I think that is perfectly okay. I think it’s okay to cry and I think it’s okay to scream and I think it’s okay to be upset that the dog that you had for 13 years is no longer by your side.

My family and my friends back home knew that this was going to tear me apart. They knew that I would not be okay after this. So they did what they do best - they let me fall apart, then they took care of me and tried to put the broken pieces back together.

Well, they did as best they could. When someone knocked on my door and delivered puppy flowers, I lost it and couldn’t look at the card for a few days.

Grief is a wild ride.

Does it happen by chance? Is it all happenstance?
Do we have any say in this mess?
Is too late to make some more space?
Can I speak to the architect?
This life that we make, is it random or fate?
Can I speak to the architect?

Is there an architect?

—

I knew before Penny passed away that I would be adopting a new dog. I already named him and already loved him.

I knew that if I could just survive this awful, tragic day, that I would eventually smile again and have happiness waiting for me.

I know that in order to get to the good times, you have to experience the pain and hurt head on first.

The only way out is through. Through the tears, the sobbing and the grief so real that my body physically hurts from it.

Here is what I know to be true: Love never dies.

On the night I got home from the concert, I did my nightly routine. I took a shower, brushed my teeth and did my skincare.

And then I did what I always did before bed - I looked for Penny. She was usually in her bed, but sometimes she went to eat supper. She would usually walk, but sometimes her legs would give out and I would find her sitting somewhere random.

I would find her and carry her to bed. When I gave her a ‘ride’ I called it a Pug Uber. I told Penny that she owed me $5 for that ride.

And then she would kiss me and wag her tail.

That night, a week after she died, I wandered around my place and I looked for my dog.

She wasn’t in her bed, she wasn’t by the food bowl and she wasn’t by the front door. I also looked in the laundry room to see if she got trapped in there.

Where is Penny? Why can’t I find her?

And when I realized what I was doing, I completely lost it.

I was looking for my dead dog.

I cried so hard that I couldn’t even speak. I didn’t know what else to do, so, a few minutes after midnight, I called my Mom. She was already asleep and when she answered, all I could do was sob.

She listened to me cry until I told her what I as wrong.

I couldn’t find Penny. Where was she?

My Mom told me that I loved Penny for 13 years and that the love I felt her her would never die. She told me that grief lasts for way more than a week and she told me that it’s fine and normal that I was crying and not okay at the moment.

She also told me that I was strong enough to adopt a new dog and welcome it into my life, just like I did with Penny.

She told me that another dog deserved my love. She told me that I was strong enough to love again.

And I am.

And for the record, I picked up Penny’s ashes the next day. I put the bag in my car, looked at it and said out loud: “You know, I was looking for you last night. I’m glad I found you.”

Grief is a wild ride.

Penny was the best thing that ever happened to me. For 13 years, it was always Penny and Me tonight.

I will never forget how soft her fur was or how her ears felt like velvet on my fingertips.

I remember her adorable little forehead wrinkles and how her paws always smelled like Cheetos. And let’s not forget how she Pug loafed or her Cinnabon tail.

I love you, Penny. You were the best thing that ever happened to me.

You taught me how to love, how to laugh, how to deal with anxiety and how to sleep in until noon on the weekends.

You taught me that it’s okay to hide underneath the covers.

You were the Greatest Pug in the History of Pugs. You were the best dog on the planet. You were such a good dog that God himself cried the day he met you.

I hope you liked me and I hope I did a good enough job raising you.

I love you to the moon and back, I love you all the stars in the sky. I love you through the clouds and the storms and through the smoke from the fires in the hills in eastern Kansas.

I’ll love you forever.

(And for what it's worth, I've been to Pugfest in the past and I'm going to Pugfest this year.)

Hallelujah

Earlier this year, I found myself in the Country Music Hall of Fame and Museum in downtown Nashville, Tennessee. On the first level of the building there is a fountain that people toss coins into. 

Back in June, I sat on the edge of that fountain and I looked at all the coins that had been tossed into the water. I people watched for a while, appreciating the audacity of women who wear shorts and cowboy boots, and then I wondered whether I should throw a coin in and make a wish. 

So that's what I did. I reached into my purse, pulled out a penny, made a wish and then watched my penny sink to the bottom, surrounded by other people's wishes. I even took a picture after I threw my penny in.

(Afterwards, a woman came up to me and offered me a free concert ticket for later that morning. Why? Because Nashville is Nashville.)

I'm not sure if you're supposed to disclose what you wish for in this kind of situation. I can say that at that point, early in the summer, I wasn't in the greatest spot in life. It wasn't the worst spot, either, but I was unhappy and I was wanting some things to change. I went on that Nashville trip specifically to get out of town, think about the future, and think about where to go and what would make me happy.

I'm glad to report that today, the second to last day of 2023, the wish that I wished for that day in Nashville came true. In fact, it came true later in the summer.

I've been very quiet on this here blog for the past six months. I didn't blog at all about that Nashville trip and I kept quiet about moving a couple of hours away to the largest city in my state. (Not Kansas City, silly. That's in Missouri.) 

On the plane to Nashville that day in June, the flight attendant made an announcement that I wrote into my phone: "Welcome to Nashville, where all of your wildest dreams can come true."

Also written down in my phone: "There are tons of airlines to choose from, and we're grateful you can't afford any of them."

Anyway, I tried to blog about that trip over the summer, but I literally couldn't do it. I sat down several times and tried to force something, but the words just didn't come out.

How can I go to Nashville and not write about it? How can I go to such a beautiful city and just ignore it on my blog?

I understand now why I couldn't write about it six months ago. I asked life for a change, and then I needed to be patient while life changed.

Back to that whole moving thing: I now live in a city. I love cities! I went to a Pentatonix concert last week and they sang my favorite song of theirs, Thank You, right in front of me and in front of 15,000 of my closest friends.

Watch the snow fall down like me sometimes
But you pick me up and then pick me up again
Like the winter leaves I can't survive
Without your light

Thank you for your smile
It's warmer than the fire
Your gentle laughter
Is sweeter than a choir
I'll never know
The right words to choose
So all I can say
Is thank you

I cried. The woman beside me hugged me. 

The encore, of course, was Hallelujah. I put my phone in my pocket, sang along to every word and didn't even try to stop the tears from running down my face. Any day you hear that song live is a pretty good day in my book.

So that's what 2023 was for me — it was a cold and broken Hallelujah. 

It was also a wish, a dream and a prayer, all of which came true. 

(Monica's note: I live in Kansas, not Nashville. I'm writing about Nashville now because sometimes stories come out months later, after they make sense.)

(Also, I met Eric Church this year. I could only say 'hi' and 'thank you' to him, but I'm pretty sure it was a mesmerizing 'hi' and 'thank you' for him. So there's that.)

For Raven

In 2019, I went to Tennessee for a few days. Towards the end of my trip, my phone buzzed with a text message from my parents.

"Did you know Raven likes pulled pork sandwiches?"

Raven was my then 8-year-old Pug, who was blind. I'm pretty sure my response was, well, why would she not like pulled pork sandwiches?

I got Raven in 2015 after the puppy mill she lived at got rid of her. She was blind then and had never known life outside of a cage. 

Raven was always a different dog, and it didn't take me long to notice that she had some special needs. My favorite thing about her was that she stayed put and never ran away. (Blind dogs don't run.) Two months after I got Raven, Pickles came into our life, and as a puppy Pickles could run a 5-minute mile. 

But this blog post is about Raven. 

Raven crossed the Rainbow Bridge a couple of weeks ago, which was one of the most heartbreaking days of my life. I'm a firm believer that dogs tell you when they're ready to go, and my girl was ready to go. 

In the end, she went in my arms, surrounded by love. 

With me she knew grass and sunshine, was surrounded by family, got used to the loudness of kids and had her Pug sisters to cuddle with.

On her last night, I told her that she would never be alone. I slept next to her, and cried, while Penny Pug said goodbye to her and licked my tears away. 

During the winter, Raven could always be found by the space heater. Raven Pug had an excellent sense of hearing and used it to make up for her blindness. 

Raven was sensitive to sounds, yes, but she was also a source of sound. She let her dislikes be known by screaming at me at the top of her lungs. Among her top dislikes were wet grass during a morning potty, the sound that trains make, and thunder during storms. Despite her screaming, her tail always wagged in public and she was always quiet in public. 

She liked my parents, especially my Dad. Her tail wagged extra for him.

I named Raven after my favorite poem, The Raven. I named her based on her personality, not her color, and people always assumed that Raven was my black Pug. 

No, Raven was my moody fawn Pug. If she were a person, she'd be off in a corner during a party writing dark poetry in a corner of a room, all by herself. 

That's just Raven for you. 

I still look for my old girl, and I can't believe she's not here. I can't believe I had a day to say goodbye and just like that, she was gone. 

Gone, but not forgotten.

I love you, Raven. I hope I gave you the life that you deserved. 

The best day, part 2

Statistically speaking, there is less than a 1 percent chance that you will get a meet and greet at a show. 

There were about 25 people in the meet and greet line, and the venue in Milwaukee holds 23,000 people.

That’s a .1 percent chance of it happening. 

It hit me as I was waiting for M&G while lines and lines of people kept piling into the amphitheater. 

There were so many people walking by us.

I cried five times before the show while driving to Milwaukee, just thinking about it. 

And then it happens, it lasts a brief moment, and then it becomes a memory burned in your mind forever. 

If you’re in this for the best seat, front row at every show, or for his autograph then you’re in it for the wrong reasons. (I’ve had some of those, by the way.)

It’s about the journey getting there and the person or people beside you. 

The journey for me was rough. It’s been eight years since I’ve been a fan, and I’ve gone through a lot since then.

I won’t whine in this here blog post, but it’s safe to say that I’ve had to change every single thing about my life just to survive.

And then one day you’re just surviving and then you’re thriving. And then surviving again, and then hey, there’s our buddy thriving, then surviving and the cycle never ends.

So yes, this is about a picture and three words I said to my favorite artist ever. But it’s also about a lot of other things. 

About traveling, about living and running with anxiety and depression and learning to not let those things run you, about being alone, about being okay with being alone, and learning how to live, love, and make yourself happy.

It’s also hearing a love song that reminds you of someone and not hating the memory of it anymore. And it’s about being okay when a potential plus one doesn’t want to be a plus one. 

Both of those things are fine. 

I stood in the pit after our meet and greet and I looked at all the people around me, from the person standing beside me to the people in the very top seats. I thought about all of the things and then it finally happened.

I cried.

It’s a concert, but it’s so much more. It’s a picture, but it’s so much more. It’s music, but it’s so much more. 

And sometimes it hits you how really lucky you are, and you just cry. Thursday night was my night. 

It might not mean much to you, but it does to me. 

—

I showed this picture to probably a dozen people today. They all did the same exact thing - they zoomed in on Eric really close. 

🤣

One person put it best on what I’ve been up to this week: “You were chasing a dream.”

That dream came true. 

😎

Thank you, Eric Church. Well, hi and then thank you. 

The best day

I don’t know where to start this story. 

I could start with Nashville a couple weeks ago. I could start tonight, at 1:06 a.m., after I just met the person I’ve admired for the past eight years and saw him in concert for the 18th time. 

Or I could start the story years ago, after I heard the song Record Year for the first time. 

That song is a break up song that saved me and healed me. 

Let’s start with tonight.

So what do you say to your idol, the one whose music you love more than life itself, when you finally meet him?

It turns out, you don’t say much if you’re me.

It was quick.

He was late. We stood in line for about an hour, then they took us back. We waited and waited, and talked to one of his employees.

Someone asked the employee if he knew Eric.

Employee’s response: He’s my boss. Do you know your boss?

(I laughed. That’s my kind of humor.)

So there’s a lot of waiting and a lot of anticipation. And then walks up this normal looking dude in jeans, a black T-shirt and sunglasses, and he walks right past me.

We cheered.

And then it’s time for the meet and greet. You meet, you greet, you get a photo taken and then it’s over in the blink of an eye. 

I don’t remember seeing the photographer take the photo. 

All I could say was “Hi.”

He said “Hi” back.

He put his arm around me.

I said “Thank you” after the photo.

He said “Thank you” back to me. 

The thing is, that was a loaded “hi” and “thank you.” It was a “hi thank you for making music that changed my life and saved me more times then I can count” kind of a hi and thank you.

Do we think he knows that?

I’m pretty sure he does. I don’t think we have to tell him.  

The thing is, sometimes quiet wins.

I’m proud of myself for saying three words to him. I didn’t think I could get those out. 

Afterwards, I looked at the packed crowd and I cried.

There were 23,000 people in that audience, and I had some people question the M&G sticker on my leg and the autograph in my hands before the show started.

They gave me the look. The look! And then asked to see my autograph. 

And then someone spilled beer on my shoe.

I met Eric Church, I cried, and then I wondered if the beer smell would ever come out of my shoes.

Hi, thank you.

It was the best day ever. 

Great love

 

I'm having a record year

I got a pretty cool email a couple weeks ago congratulating me for winning the lottery, and now I probably need to explain that.

I entered into a chance to attend a fan club party during CMA Fest in Nashville in June for my favorite country singer. I've never won a meet and greet before this, so I had little hopes of actually winning. In fact, after I put my name into the hat, in true Monica fashion, I forgot all about the hat and moved on with my life. 

I checked my email one Friday morning a couple weeks ago, and I had an email from that country singer's headquarters (I love those emails!) saying that I had won the lottery. If I can get to Nashville that day and want to, I'm invited to attend the fan club party. 

If you even have to ask me whose fan club party it is, I mean, do you really even know me at this point?

I'll give you a brief overview about my favorite things to write about, talk about, and my favorite things ever — music, traveling and Eric Church.

I became a fan of Eric's music after I listened to the song Record Year in the context of a break up. When I was 30, pretty much on my 30th birthday, I was ghosted by the guy I was dating. He eventually married the girl he cheated on me with. 

Who says chivalry is dead?

I had just bought a house, a house that was too big for just me, and I had nothing better to do than to sit in it at night, cry, and listen to music.

I was not a fan of Eric's music before that. But for whatever reason one night, in the midst of my first real heart break, I remember searching for the song Record Year on Spotify. I sat down and actually heard the words to it. 

I think music finds you when you need it. At that moment, I needed that song to get over my break up. I needed an album with no love songs on it. I wanted to listen to music, but I didn't want mushy songs about love. 

It turns out I needed the Mr. Misunderstood album. I needed a song about killing someone in New Orleans (I did what I had, I have no regrets/when you cross the line, you get what you get), I needed Mixed Drinks About Feelings (self explanatory), and I needed Holdin' My Own (also self explanatory). 

Also, I had a couple of three year olds in my life at the time (they're nine now), so the song Three Year Old was pretty fun to listen to.

I listened to Mr. Misunderstood over and over in my house that year, as loud as I could get my speakers. I ended up seeing the guy a couple of times over the summer that year at various events, once I was expecting and once I was not expecting. 

I walked back to my house after, locked my doors, and turned Mr. Misunderstood up as loud as I could. 

The whole neighborhood listened to Eric Church that afternoon. 

My parents came to my house afterward to check and see if I was okay (they were at the same event where the guy and his replacement for me were seated near us). To this day, I still remember the text message my mom sent me when I didn't hear the doorbell ring. 

"I hear Eric Church music playing, so I'm going to assume you're okay. Let us know if you need anything. Love you."

That's kind of been a theme of my life since. As long as there's Church music playing, I'm all right. 

The fact that my love for this man — Eric Church, not the other guy — started out of heart break is not lost on me. I've done some pretty cool things in the past few years since then, all because some dude I don't think about anymore broke my heart in to a million little pieces. 

I went to a concert in downtown Nashville, by myself, and was front row. I flew halfway across the country in December, my favorite month, where I fell in love with life all over again and went to two more concerts. 

I cried during Record Year while standing front row while holding hands with a stranger in Denver. I danced and sang and drank and had a great time with newfound friends in Washington D.C. 

I've traveled on planes, trains, and automobiles, sat in airports in big amazing cities and even sat in some mediocre cities. I've fallen in and out of love several times. 

I've learned just how capable I am at being alone and how capable I am at life. 

I'm doing fine.  

I can hold my own with the best of them. 

Concerts #17 and #18 are next month for me. I might not be an original fan who was there since day one, but I will remain loyal to that man (Eric Church, not the guy who cheated on me) for a very long time. 

Sometimes fans ask me if I wish I had been there at the start of his career. Do I regret missing it, they ask? 

My answer is always no. I think I found his music when I needed it most. 

One of my favorite blog posts I've ever written is called 'Damn it baby, dammit.' It's written with song lyrics to Eric Church's song It's Over When It's Over intertwined in it. It was written in September 2016, the night that I bought concert tickets for the first Eric Church concert I went to. 

I was heartbroken. I needed a break up song, I needed a musical leader and I needed a heartbreak anthem. 

I found it, and so much more.

Damn it baby, dammit. 

That first concert was the best concert I'd ever been to. I didn't think about the guy who broke my heart once. The next day I woke up and thought, I need another concert and I need it RIGHT NOW. One is not going to suffice. 

Can I get some more of that sweet happiness in my life? 

These Boots in Wichita, Kansas, in April 2017.

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So I'm going to go to this party in Nashville because a boy broke my heart years ago. 

I don't think I'd have it any other way. 

In the words of someone I've seen in concert 16 times since then: If you find your way back, I owe you a beer for my record year.