I requested of my parents that we take a beach vacation when I was a sophomore in high school. At the time, I was around the age of 16 (I'm an only child). My parents, concurrently, were in their mid-30s. The year would have been 1988. It's important to know that we'd never "beached trip" prior, though we had visited the Mississippi Gulf Coast (which has a less than picturesque beach).
I believe I made this specific "beach trip" request due to what I'd heard from a close friend relative to her family's beach vacations. My friend's dad was an attorney, and each summer they integrated their beach trip in with the Mississippi BAR convention in Miramar Beach, FL. My friend was a drinker and as such, very socially adept. Too, her stunningly beautiful cousin from CA would fly in to join her relative to this annual summer beach vaca.
It all sounded so COOL (despite the fact that I was anything but cool). Why not give it a go with my family?
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My older two daughters and I just returned from Miramar Beach, FL this past weekend. I was there for work (convention), and my daughters tagged along. This specific convention, I've attended each summer for close to a decade. It's an exhausting affair, though overall - typically - very productive / enjoyable.
Miramar Beach is home to a 2,400-acre resort that was spearheaded in the 1980s. It's at this resort where this annual convention has been held since 2015.
Too, it was at this same resort, back in 1988, that my parents and I vacationed when I was 16. As such, it was my first time there.
As you might imagine, what I experienced at 16 at Sandestin was far different OVERALL than what's there today.
Except...
The same hotel building my parents and I stayed in back in 1988 is still there (though it's been rebranded as "condos").
In fact, surprisingly, my girls and I stayed in that exact building last week while we were there. As a result, I had no idea how profoundly influential our accommodations would turn out to be.
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Immediately upon inhabiting our assigned condo (hotel room), I felt a profound sense of sadness / insecurity that I couldn't shake for the entire four days we were there. It was like a dark cloud that hung over me each and every day. It's important to note that adjacent to this repurposed condo building is the original conference center for the resort. Because our assigned condo (room) was at the end of the building, my girls and I would typically navigate through said pre-function conference space (entering & exiting the building repeatedly throughout the day).
As a sixteen-year-old, I was notorious for exploring unfamiliar buildings. Hence, I'm certain I did a fair share of exploring of this mid-'80s conference center.
To be more specific, because I was sharing a hotel room with my parents, I feel certain I was on the hunt for "off the beaten (sorry) path" public restrooms to masturbate within (sitting on the loo within an enclosed stall). This pre-function conference space had restrooms that would have fit the bill exactly. For whatever reason, as a teenage boy, doing this was just rebellious enough to satiate that adolescent season.
In fact, I used these restrooms last week (only for what they were designed for, thank you very much) often while we were there (as we entered / exited the building).
I know all this sounds ridiculously over the top bizarre, but...
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Immediately upon my girls and I returning home on Sunday, (7/23) afternoon, I facilitated the "Brain Changers" virtual Samson Society meeting (I just barely made it), and it was literally during our breakout session that everything began to crystallize within my mind (Summer 1988 past overlapping with Summer 2023 present experience).
I cannot underestimate how much I loathed myself as a sixteen-year-old boy. Whether it was related to my body image, my sexuality (struggles with unwanted / intrusive homosexual desires), or my penchant for escaping via masturbation (often inside bathroom stalls), all of this compounded my disgust. It was a private disgust that I wrestled with constantly.
That sixteen-year-old Rob is alive and well inside my head. Unbeknownst to me, I essentially re-traumatized him last week relative to our 2023 accommodations (being identical to his in 1988).
How is this possible?
I have no idea. I'm no brain expert. But I can tell you this: my sixteen-year-old self is in there. And he remembers / is just as sensitive as ever. Especially when the experience(s) were tough for him. Plus, he was a budding architect at the time (I embarked into architecture school at 19). Hence, buildings, in particular, made distinct impressions on his / my budding psyche.
Having gone through this, I feel yet again humbled. It truly is unbelievable how profoundly influential childhood experiences are relative to our present-day adult circumstances.
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