If life is meant to make us long for God and his world, then at this stage in my life he has succeeded. I would welcome the coming of Christ with open arms and tears of joy. My only hesitation would be not knowing where my daughter lies in the realm of God's salvation. I wish I knew her better, but I just can't seem to find some way into who she is. That seems to be the story with everyone in my life. I know the people in my life very well, but somehow they still keep who they are a secret from me. Perhaps this is where my sense of disconnection stems. My daughter, my husband, my brother, all those around me, they hide themselves from me. I don't know that it is due to their own insecurities or if it is reflective of my own trustworthiness. I only know that I long for this more than anything... a true connection with someone at their very soul.
But how do you determine who you are? Where does who you are begin? Does it begin when you become conscience of the world? At birth? With your parents' lives before you even exist? Perhaps that's where it begins, as they are the ones that make you who you are, for better or for worse.
...
Dad's draft number was 18. Mom and Dad had only been married for a few months when it arrived. He knew he would end up in infantry since he was a mechanic, but he decided to take steps to prevent that if he could. He tried to join the Air Force, but was told he would be drafted before he could be processed. So he enlisted, but into airborne. Off he went to Basic, where he graduated top of his class. By the time he was sent to Vietnam, he was an E4. Mom moved back with Grandma and Grandpa while Dad was gone. It was a tough year for each of them in obviously different ways, but they made it through.
When Dad came home, he was anxious to expand his family. Mom was hesitant. She had helped to raise all her sisters and wasn't sure she wanted to have kids. But she did it for Dad.
They tried for a while, but eventually I was made. The pregnancy wasn't an easy one, if any can be. Mom's blood pressure went up dangerously. The hospital at the base had lost several babies to going over term, so when mom's blood pressure got too high for the doctors' comfort, they decided to induce labor. They thought I was overdue, but mom didn't seem to think so.
The labor was long and dangerous. Mom says she remembers rolling on the cart watching the lights above her. She was fairly medicated. The birth took more than a day. At some point I stopped mid birth, right in mom's pelvic area. Just stopped. The jokes are two fold. One that there was too much light for me. The drugs in my mom's system had slowed me down and I just wanted to stay in the dark and sleep. The other, that I was waiting for a large enough audience. There ended up being several teams standing by in case they had to cut through mom's pelvis to get me. Things got so scary, my dad was actually asked to formally decide who would be the priority if they thought they could only save one of us. He chose mom. She was the love of his life, how could he let her go?
I was breech and then I went back. The doctor's turned me around and pulled me out with forceps, in the process, breaking mom's tail bone. So to this day, she has a difficult time sitting very long. I guess I should take the clue that living in this world would not be easy.
That being said, my life really was never very difficult, except for that which I made difficult myself. Many friends have compared our life to Leave It To Beaver and other sitcoms where everything always turned out okay in 30 minutes.
Shortly after I arrived, it was off to Germany. Dad went first and then we followed. I have little, if any recollection of our life in Germany. What I do remember is only from stories, except for one dream I had from the balcony of our apartment in Frankfurt. That's all I remember is the balcony and the sidewalk in front of it.
Family
I suppose in order to better understand my life, I feel I should explore who my family are a little as they are a big part of who I've become. Dad was born in Los Angeles, at the time, the youngest of 5 boys. They lived near 51st and Western, an area that we probably couldn't safely visit now. By the time he was 2, though, they had left and moved back to where his parents had lived before there were children, Colorado. His brother just before him had died of meningitis and Grandma couldn't deal with being where she had lost him. By then, he also had a baby sister.
They were not well off, but they did okay. Dad decribes Grandpa as being a man of his word. If he made a promise, you can bet on it being kept. He hasn't talked of Grandma much as she was when he was a kid. Just that he liked to bring her dandelions, which became her favorite flower.
He liked to go ice skating on the frozen ponds. When he was about 6 years old, two more of his older brothers drowned in the river. He tells how he had wanted to go with them and they wouldn't take him. One of them struggled and the other drowned trying to save the first. Even after 20 years in the army, my dad never really became the greatest of swimmers.
Tragedy struck again when he was 9. My grandfather died of a heart attack in his sleep. Grandma said he was reading Shakespeare at the time. He loved Shakespeare. I can't remember what his occupation was at the time. He had been a gold miner and served in WWII in the Pacific Theater, but I'm not sure what he did then.
So all that was left was Grandma, Dad, his oldest brother and his baby sister. Such loss at such a young age. Life was not easy for them. They lived on Social Security checks and what Grandma could make as a waitress and a cook. As the boys got older, they started taking jobs to help. Dad started with a paper route, as most boys did up until this generation. Later, he began working at a gas station and also on farms. I've seen pictures of him lifting bales of hay. He was a strong boy. No wonder mom finally fell for him.
Mom's story isn't so tragic, but still not easy. She was born on a farm in Nebraska, first daughter with two older brothers. At around 4 years old, Grandma and Grandpa packed up 2 boys and 3 girls into a 1941 Chevy and headed for Colorado. Grandpa would be a miner and they would all live in a town so small I am surprised they called it a town. It consisted of three houses and a school house. The school was two rooms. Mom and her brothers were in one class. I used to wonder how the teacher managed such a range of students, but now I am learning.
It was freezing cold during the winter and they didn't have indoor plumbing until she was 12 years old. Her oldest brother died of a heart attack when he was 13, she was 10. After he died, the family didn't handle it very well and they moved into town. Grandma had befriended a pastor in town and the family started going to church. This was a pivotal place in all of our lives. My mom and her 6 siblings ended up being raised in the church and became very godly people. Something that I don't know would have happened had my uncle not died.
Mom wasn't great in school. It was boring to her and she barely squeaked out. They never really had very much money, but they were happy. Mom did a lot of chores, being the oldest. She doesn't have the greatest of memories about her mother, but many about her siblings.
She had known Dad since she had moved into town. They didn't get along very well at first. But many years later, they manage to find that they loved each other. They were married at 19 years old. They moved to a big city where Dad would get his automotive mechanic license. Mom left her job working at a law firm to go with Dad.
Soon, their world would change. Dad received his draft card... 18. He knew he would end up infantry with his training. His brother had been a lieutenant in infantry and he already knew the nightmares. So, he went in to enlist in the Air Force. They wouldn't take him. They told him by the time they processed him in, the Army would have already pulled him. So he went off to the Army and enlisted in the Airborne unit. He became a helicopter mechanic.
He graduated top of his class every time they sent him to training. Before he left for war, he was already an E4 and not long until he was a crew chief and door gunner. He was in one of those lovely units that was meant to save those who got themselves into trouble. So it was either total boredom or total action. If he was going in, it was usually into deep shit. My dad earned a distinguished cross. They were flying in to remove some troops and the helicopter below was hit. It was on flames and the pilot was stuck in his harness. Dad climbed down a rope ladder, still not sure how he avoided the rotors, and cut the pilot out. He was a pretty brave man. His helicopter was shot down a few times, once injuring his back.
We moved to Texas when I was almost 5. The only thing I remember of our first house on 19th street was the wrought iron on the front porch and walking on the rolled up carpet the day that we were moving out to our new house... the one mom and dad bought and are living in again today. Many of our nights were filled with walks around the neighborhood, through most of my childhood we went on family walks almost every night it was possible. We were actually on a walk the night that Stinker came along.
...
My little brother was my little baby. I took care of him like my own living, breathing doll. I loved him so very much, despite the fact that he wasn't a sister. I took him everywhere I went, and did everything that I did for him, too. I even took him to school in kindergarten for my show and tell (well, mom brought him). I loved being a little mommy and helped my mom out as much as I could. We had a little red wagon. I would pack it full of pillows and toys and blankets and stick my brother in it and we would go for little walks around the block. I didn't handle him growing up very well, though. He was a little spoiled and after a while, I think that I may have resented him a little.
He often did the normal things that little siblings would do, like taking things out of my room. But when I would retrieve the items, or talk with my mom about it, if a disagreement ensued, frequently I was told "I was older, I should know better." This was the beginning of my training in letting the things that I wanted go for those who were too immature to understand their inappropriate actions. A skill I have become well versed in, to my own detriment.
When Stinker was about 2, Dad found out that someone had "volunteered" him for Korea. A year away when mom and dad weren't actually doing real well with their marriage. Of course, I didn't know that then, but found out many years later. This was the only time I ever saw my dad drunk. He was furious and totally gone. It was also the only time I've seen my dad cry, really cry. At some point in the evening, he managed to punch a hole in the wall in the hallway. My parents left that hole there, just covering it up with a picture, as a reminder of what happens when you lose your temper. They didn't fix it until we had to move to Germany 6 years later.
That year that Dad was gone was hard. Mom got a job working at the church daycare. She liked it and my brother and I could go with her. My mom is a natural with kids. If God gives the gift of caregiving, my mom has it. We lived on steak fingers, macaroni and cheese, and hot dogs.
With Christmas being here, we were just talking about Christmas Eve that year, my mom and I. Mom bought Stinker a Big Wheel and then she had to put it together. I was past the Santa phase of my life, so she would come and get me to help her put a part together. My mom learned to be very independent that year and the dynamics of our family changed a bit when Dad returned.
We made cassette tapes and sent them to my dad. I never really knew if he enjoyed them or not. My Dad is so very quiet about what goes on inside of him. His emotions are always under control; he is always under control.
...
GT
...
Ronnie
We moved to Germany in sixth grade. I was so nervous. This was the first time that I had moved in 8 years. The last time I had been so little it hadn't really phased me. My first day in class I looked over and there sat Ronnie. He was this ornery, mischievous boy that had always been in detention in Texas. Even though I knew he was naughty, it was nice to recognize someone. Our friendship grew to a love/hate relationship. He would pick on me, but by seventh grade, I found myself with an enormous crush on him. I'd never had a real crush before and this was the beginning of my making a fool for a boy, a habit which I still haven't stopped. We were on the swim team together during our seventh grade school year and spent a lot of time around each other and traveling. The week of Valentine's Day, he asked me to be his girlfriend. I said yes and it was a strange week. I barely saw him at all that week, as though being my boyfriend was not something he really wanted to do. For Valentine's, I bought him a box of chocolates... I was new at this. He hadn't gotten anything and decided that his gift to me would be my first kiss. I don't even remember what it was like, just that it happened. He quickly disappeared and a day or two later, broke up with me. I spent the better part of the next year trying to get his attention in one way or another, not always conscience of what I was doing. I didn't go out of my way, but I did take any opportunity that was available to make him jealous.
...
Ninth grade is perhaps the year of my life that I was the very happiest in all of the time in my life that I can remember. It was a fabulous year. I had one or two short, short relationships with boyfriends, but beyond that it was me and about 10 girls that just hung out and had fun. No broken hearts, crushes, but no need for a connection with boys. I had so much fun that year!
In that year, we were living in Germany. It was our third year and I knew I would be going back to the States at the end of the year. Science that year was run a little differently than a traditional Science class. Each student had an independent unit that they worked on for six weeks. I thoroughly enjoyed that class that year and I think the things that I learned that year stuck better than any other year. I also had the privilege of having the second highest grade in our algebra classes of all the school... seniors included. There is also one lowlight attached to that as a boy that I had a crush on pretended to like me so that I would help him with his math... He could've just asked, but 17 year olds are stupid. Then again, I think all men are stupid when it comes to women. Anyway, I was proud of my math accomplishment.
I had been taking ballet at the DODDC (Department of Defense Dependent Center), kind of like a military YMCA for several years. Being the oldest student, I kind of ended up the "star" of the recital that year. I danced with the littlest ones, and I had a solo en pointe in a dance from Giselle. My mom helped sew the costumes and I began to looked forward to a career in ballet, even though I was short.
Our musical for the year was "Guys and Dolls", and I wasn't allowed to audition for any of the singing parts, as my teacher was going to use my dance experience in the corps. I was so dissappointed, but I relished the opportunity to dance. And then it backfired... At some point she told me that I made everyone else look bad and ended up pulling me out of most of the dance routines.
The highlight of that year was a trip to the Soviet Union. Our school took the GT (gifted and talented) students for a week trip to the Soviet Union. This was April 1988, so it was right towards the end of the Soviet Union. We had to do research on the country and had a pen pal all year that we got to spend time with when we got there. Looking back at it, as a 9th grader, I did not live that experience to the fullest, but I got a lot out of it.
We stayed at a very nice hotel with a statue outside for the cosmonauts in Moscow. Our first night there, we had caviar in our dinner. My friends started calling me Mikey, because I would eat anything. They let me try everything first figuring if I didn't like it, then it must really be bad. The food was actually really good every where that we went.
I was taken back by how stark the landscape was. It was as if the entire country was stuck in a time warp 40 years before.
We visited Red Square where people were lined up for a mile to go through Lenin's tomb. We learned that people being married that day were allowed to go to the front of the line. We stood in line for hours to go through this thing. It was so weird seeing a corpse. He looked so plastic, which later in life I learned he pretty much was at that point. It was totally freaky and weird to me that people would stand in line for hours to see this man who had been such a tyrant. But I guess they didn't really know that.
We saw some of the attractions around Moscow, the largest bell never rang, the largest canon never shot. I think one of the most impacting experiences for me was visiting the churches. In the middle of Red Square, this icon of communism, stands three churches, face to face. I remember approaching the church of the Archangel Michael. The outside was plain and sparse like most all else I had seen in the country, but the inside, that was an entirely different story. The walls were covered with paintings of people. The guide explained that each of the paintings were prayers of different people. She talked about the lengths that people were willing to go to in order to be able to worship in this country. There were no pews. These people stand through the entire service, which is typically two hours or longer. This was the first seed planted in my heart for Orthodoxy.
We took the train to Ivanova and Tblisi. In Ivanova, we visited a school where students learned English. I was introduced to their version of the boy scouts and we traded American things for Russian things (gum for postcards). In Ivanova, I got to meet my pen pal and spent the day with them.
In Tbilisi, we saw a performance of Georgian dancing that just had me mesmerized. Whatever they were doing, the women seemed to float on the stage. From a dancer's perspective, it was inspiring.
The whole time that I was in Russia, I was struck by the sweetness of the people I met. I don't know what I had expected, but all of those that I met were so kind and gentle. Of course, they were hand picked to show a good example for us, but they were of such generous spirit. That has stuck with me.
Our trip back was simple. I slept most of the way home. I was chastised by friends when I got home because it turns out Scorpion was in line behind me and on our plane, and I failed to get their autograph. Hence the beginning of my being oblivious to celebrity. My one week in the Soviet Union changed the landscape of who I became, but it didn't really take root until much later in my life. The seed had to grow and the appreciation of the experience.
...
My First "Love"
We moved from Germany to California my sophomore year of high school. It was a difficult move for me. It took me a long time to make any friends and I spent a lot of time by myself. The one salvation for me, though, was Dance Company. I was surprised to learn that there was a dance class available for PE. I hated PE and was enrolled in the dance class. Despite my insistence, the counselor put me in the beginning dance class.
The first day of class we were asked to fill out a survey on our dance experience. I had been dancing since I was 5, so I had a lot to write. When I turned it in, the teacher asked my why I was in her class. I was confused and then she told me I needed to be in her other class, for more advanced dancers. So the counselor, mom and I sat down and shuffled my schedule around so that I could take the advanced dance class.
I loved this class. We had guest choreographers and learned a lot. This was the year I was introduced to modern dance. We worked on a tour and put together an entire show that we would take around part of the state.
Because of the schedule of the tour, we were not permitted to have any speaking roles in the musical that year. It was Fame! I was on the dance team, though, for the production. This was where I met him. He was on the cast. He was very tall, almost a foot taller than me. He had dark hair, was half Thai and was very cute. This was yet another restriction, though. My dance teacher had forbidden us from dating anyone on the cast until the show was over. But we flirted, boy did we flirt.
The show was great and we all had a lot of fun. Off I went to the first cast party at a friend's house. And the show was over, so all bets were off... so I thought. I can't remember how it quite started, but he and I ended up kissing the whole night.
Then the next week when we got back to school, I got in huge trouble. Turned out he was scheduled to go with us on the tour to keep the only boy on our tour company. I didn't know and now I had to put aside my new found feelings while we headed off to another city in a couple of vans.
This was an awesome trip, but the part about the boy sucked. He wasn't my "boyfriend" and I wasn't the only one who was interested in him. This was my first experience with jealousy. He was a typical boy and open to whatever came his way. A couple of the other girls on the team took advantage of my being in a different van than him and flirted to her heart's best. I nearly got sent home as I obsessed about this boy. I had never felt like this and really didn't know how to reel it in, but my dancing and singing was infinitely more important than him and I controlled myself.
One night, I heard the boys out in the pool at the hotel with a couple of girls and I quickly got myself out there. Soon, I found myself all alone in the pool with this guy who had managed to steal my attention, kissing and holding each other. I had kissed other boys before, and even been as far as 3rd base, but this was different. In restrospect, I can't remember what it was that was so very intriguing about him, but I was hooked.
Okay, so I've just stumbled across him... and seeing his face, I can remember. He was fun and charming. He was the cutest boy in school. He was editor of the yearbook, not that that is important, but it points to his creativity and interests. Looks like that really paid off for him. He was smart. I always like smart boys. I can't honestly say that I have loved a man yet, although my husband might finally become one.
He was funny and he opened my eyes to so many things... I just loved spending time with him. Life was interesting around him.
So story continued... When we got back from our trip, we kind of played around, but there was not commitment implied for some time. I don't really remember how we became boyfriend and girlfriend. I guess it just kind of happened. We were together all of the time. That summer, he worked at the base PX gas station and I was a nanny. We spent a lot of time together, a lot of time at amusement parks, going to Six Flags and the Boardwalk. I was falling in love. It was a brand new feeling, not just a crush, but a real feeling.
He was kind to me and we talked all the time. We had a very physical relationship, although I held out on the last thing for a while. I remember one afternoon in his bedroom, sheets all over the floor and "I Love Lucy" playing on the TV. Somehow the conversation came up about how he would give me anything, but there was something that I wish he would take from him. "What's that?" "My virginity..." Did I? Not just then. Wow, I was only 15 years old.
School started and things were still good. I would go over to his house a lot. His mom wasn't home a lot, as I remembered. But she was a good cook. Her spaghetti with octopus and shellfish was amazing! So we could basically do whatever we wanted, although we watched a lot of TV. That year was Twin Peaks, and he was obsessed with it. With all that free time and space, it's kind of strange that I finally decided to say yes in the back seat of his Corolla. I finally decided that I loved him and that I would do this for him, for us. I wanted him just as much as he wanted me. It had just been my moral convictions that had held me back. It hurt and didn't last very long. That's about all I remember. The memory of this first time is clouded by the fact that just a week later, he broke up with me. Right before my 16th birthday. This began a series of get togethers and break ups that lasted 3 years.
He did still take me out for my birthday. Took me to the Chart House and I had shrimp for the first time. I fell in love, with the shrimp. He still didn't want to be my boyfriend, but we saw each other all the time at school. Since the Dance Company had been cut by state budget cuts, I had joined the drama class, so we saw each other every day. My junior year, his senior. It was a very crazy year for me. Emotionally and otherwise.
In the drama class, I explored a whole new piece of myself. I had always been a singer, dancer, GATE student, but this new realm of who I was, the actress, was interesting and exciting. It became something of my own and not just something I was following him into. Following him, though, has led to a lot of life changing experiences that I am still grateful for today.
We spent the year getting together and breaking up again. A new girl moved to town who was a lot more like him and he would usually vacillate between the two of us. Unlike my husband, at least he had the consideration to break up with me first. If I took him back later, that was my choice. He would do romantic things with her, like dance with her in the moonlight. Things he never did with me. I hated that. I was stupid and jealous, but I usually found other boys and friends to keep me company while he was off playing with someone else. Never had sex with them, though.
I could be manipulative, though, and it sucks that it would work. I remember one particular night that year. There was a movie coming out, I can't even remember what it was going to be, but I found out he and his friends were going. I convinced a GI friend of mine and another friend to go with me. As we stood in line, our other friend decided to bail. It was quite a line and she just wasn't into it. Of course, he was there. That was the plan. After the movie, he found me and asked if my date wouldn't mind if he took me home. He's not my date, just a friend. I feel bad for having used my friend, but I'm pretty sure he was aware. I was 16, he was a GI, my dad was a 1st sargeant. Nothing was going to happen there.
We sat in the parking lot for hours talking and of course, we got back together again. Mission accomplished. It seems as though I have spent my lifetime trying to gain the attention of boys who didn't want me. All for "love". I think I'm just crazy.
He took me to prom and that was going to be a "great" night. His best friend was going to take the other girl and we were going to double date. God, was a frickin' moron! She actually ended up not going, so it was a threesome. It was their senior prom. Can you imagine how I felt when I realized that I was the third wheel on my own date?
We went to a very nice restaurant on the cliffs. It was beautiful, but there was like no food on the plate. I felt bad that he spent so much money and we kind of went away hungry. But it was fun. We did make it to the prom, but we didn't stay long. Took our pictures, danced a little and then we left, all three of us. We ended up at the beach with a bonfire and eventually it was just him and me. Finally.
By the summer, we had broken up, again. I found out that he was going to do this apprenticeship at an outdoor theatre nearby. I can't remember if I asked him if he minded or if I just applied, but we both ended up there. I know I initially did it to spend time with him, but I got so much more out of it than that. I would not trade my experience at that theatre that summer for anything. It is even worth all the pain and heartache that I might have had because of him. Back then, God still cared what I did, I still went to church, and he used that boy to change my life, to give me experiences that would mold me into who I was meant to be. I wouldn't be able to see this for nearly 15 years, though.
Of course, we got back together again. That's what our roller coaster life was like. Then he was off to college. He didn't want to be tied down to a long distance relationship at college, so break up number I've lost count. But we talked all the time. He would call me, I would call him. I sent him sexy letters with fantasies, which I never really knew if he liked or not. We had a lot of phone sex.
But I was free. I spent a lot of time with some girl friends of mine. I spent a lot of time with all the other friends I had been avoiding because my life was consumed by the boy I "loved". I had so much fun my senior year. My experience with the apprenticeship introduced me to community theatre and special education classes. I spent my nights doing community theatre, my afternoons doing rehearsals for high school drama performances and competitions, my mornings as a TA in a special education class, Sundays in church and every other free moment with someone else. I don't think I stopped to breathe that year. But I had fun!
Sometimes, he would come home for the weekend or holidays, and we would spend time together. He had asked me earlier that year to get on the pill so we didn't have to use condoms any more. He'd send me the money. Not knowing who he was doing in college, and I agreed? This is the first bit of evidence as to how stupid I am and how I gullible I can be. Of course he was honest with me, he loved me, right? Who knows, maybe he was and my reflection has been tainted by my husband.
He came home to go to my prom with me. I had high anticipations of what our night would be like. I even rented a hotel room for the night. We were at the dance about the same amount of time as the last one, maybe less.
...
Ari
...
The Year of the Vampire
My Freshman year of college was a crazy year for me. It was my first adventure out completely on my own. I didn't miss my family at all that year. I was so busy and I could come and go as I pleased. My family life with my parents had been idyllic, so I wasn't running away from anything. I just enjoyed my independence immensely. My easy upbringing, however, I don't think really prepared me for what was in store in "real life". I was dancing many, many hours a day, going to class, staying up until the dawn broke. Ari had shown up at my dorm room on the first night of school. He asked me to go with him and his friends that night, and like an idiot, I did. I think I wanted to prove to myself that I could have enough control over myself to stop something that I didn't want to happen, that our summer encounter wasn't a sign of my weakness. Now, almost 20 years later, I can see that weakness is a character pattern that I definitely have.
I was cast into one of the professor's pieces for the fall as an alternate, so I went to all the rehearsals and learned all the dances. I was so naive, I think I still am. I have always loved giving massages and ended up giving more massages before each practice/performance than I could count. Each person had an injury that required a little more attention and I would help them warm up that part of their body. I was always happy then, annoyingly so. This performance was about vampires. It was set to "Epistola Sanje". I remember having to do shoulder stands forever to represent hanging from the roof. It prompted my first visit to a chiropractor, my neck was so tweaked. I loved dancing, but I was never quite good enough to actually be put into the performance, but I had so much fun.
That year was also the year that the B rated movie "Buffy, the Vampire Slayer" was filmed. I had signed up with a casting company and got to be an extra in the movie. I had a lot of fun doing the different shoots. I even got to meet Luke Perry, briefly, but I was too shy to interrupt the process to respond with anything other than "hi". The worst part about the whole experience was during the filming of the prom scene, I was about to be sent to wardrobe and be given a speaking role. Without rhyme or reason, I turned completely green right in front of the director. I didn't even realize what was about to happen, so I still can't say that it was nerves. I nearly passed out and not only did I miss out on an opportunity to speak a word or two on camera, I was sent home right away.
That was also the year that the movie "Bram Stoker's Dracula" came out. Sorry, but the movie might have been the actions of the book, but did not reflect the characters in the book at all. I was greatly disappointed.
...
Michael
...
New York
...
1996. I was almost done with college and tired of having to work at places where you couldn't say the word God. I decided to apply to work at the YMCA and work with kids. I loved kids and they loved me. The interview went very well and I was hired right away. I had to go get fingerprints and drug tested, but I started right away.
I was kind of living with an ex-boyfriend of mine at the time. I was hiding from someone who was threatening me and his house was a safe place away from this predator. I still had my own apartment, but I didn't go home very often. For some strange reason, although we were acting like a couple again, I refused to be his girlfriend again. I just didn't want to be attached anymore. This turned out to be fortuitous, as I met a really cute guy that I really enjoyed flirting with at the Y. I didn't expect it to turn into anything at all. He was just fun. He was one of the dads at the Y, divorced, cute and very sexy.
I loved working at the Y. The kids were all wonderful. I had so much fun with especially the younger ones. We played games and Uno became the daily ritual. There was a pool table in the one room, and we played often.
...
The wedding day
One year after our first kiss, we were getting ready to meet at the altar. Precious was so pretty. She had picked out a dress with a huge tulle skirt and I had asked my mother-in-law to do her hair. That was a hard day for her. She did really well and smiled throughout the service. She sat with his family during the service. When we got to the hotel for the reception, she was a little ornery while we were doing our couples photos, but then she was okay. I love her so much, and have for a very long time.
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A fabulous month
February 2006. I had just come home from my weekend of heart break with my mom, living in a hotel, unsure of what would happen next. My husband opened up. The realization of what he almost threw away changed him. He talked about his problems, personally and we talked about our problems together. I gave in to him, against my better judgement, and we had a month of amazing sex. He was attentive and passionate. He wanted me all the time. It was almost as though we were dating again. We talked all the time and I felt so connected to him. I was willing to accept the affair because it seemed as though it had finally brought back the man that I had married.
Then the phone bill came and everything changed. He hadn't stopped talking to her, not for a single second. He would weep and cry to me about how sorry he was and then send her text messages. He would tell me he had ended it and then send her a slew of texts. As I had been with my mother, he had alternated his text messages between me and her. We would have sex and while I was taking a shower, he would be texting her. When we went out to dinner on a romantic date, he would text her when I went to the bathroom. I felt, and still do, as though I were just the blow up doll he had glued her face on to. He had weeped, in my opinion, not because he thought he would have to give me up, but because he thought he would have to give her up.
And he wasn't telling me everything, he wasn't opening up. He was also hiding serious health issues from me, which he trusted her enough to share. And now I also know that he had indeed slept with her. While I was out driving around to make sure he hadn't driven into a ditch because he was an hour late home, he was out fucking her. I died that day. Our sex life completely disappeared. I was lucky if I got to have sex once a month. God only knows what he was doing. He has "forgotten" and can't remember what he really did.
I felt so amazing that month, even in the midst of my pain. I thought that I finally had my honest husband back. Surely if he could tell me the truth about this then there was nothing else he would keep from me. I don't think I will ever feel that way again. I will always know that he has secrets from me and I will never feel connected like I did then. Not that I don't love him, I will just always feel separate.
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Getting Fired
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Last Chapter?
Here I am sitting in June gloom on the jetty at the harbor all by myself. How did we get to this point? So many years of pain, some fun and joy intertwined, but too much pain. I asked for this. For once, the universe has given me what I asked for... time to myself. Of all things I've asked for, this is the one I get! Time to reflect on what is more important, my love for my husband or the pain that he has caused me. It just might be coming too late. As always, I believe that God will get me to where He wants me to be one way or another, but am I complying to God's will?
I haven't written much about our marriage. I love my husband intensely. He became my everything, my entire world. I loved everything about him, even his temper tantrums, unpleasant as they were. Until the day he cheated, and the subsequent years of cheating. I just can't seem to let go. Is this a function of a mental disorder or something that is just not supposed to go away?
We had the potential to be the most amazing, magical couple. What really got in the way?
So this final blow, I went out with some friends and sent him a text where I was going. When I got there, I abandoned my purse and didn't answer when he called a few hours later. Over and over again. This is my sin... I didn't have my cell phone attached to me. For this, he hasn't spoken to me in over 24 hours, which is not a record for me. It looks like this might finally be the end of this roller coaster ride we called a marriage.
I have discovered, though, that I do still love him. I will love him for always. I just don't think it can be fixed. I can't let go.
So now I live on the boat. So far, it's not too bad. Lots of time to think, which could be good or bad. Friends are nearby and so is my paddleboard. I'll get lots of exercise. Not so much sleep though. I kept checking my phone over and over just to see if he had written or called. It won't happen, though. This is not "An Officer and a Gentleman". There is no "you complete me" in my future. No magical, romantic conclusion to this story. He doesn't know how to love me. He doesn't know that he just has to be himself, completely open and honest. Maybe that's not him. Maybe that's me and I am only loving what I wish he were, the same that he does with me. Could be that he's never really shown me the real him.
Only God knows the outcome of this story and he's not spilling the beans.
... It continues. He eventually pretended it was all over and came to visit me. We had a nice couple of days. Then he intentionally missed our therapist appointment. The next morning, I discovered that he still has a secret e-mail address and he failed to provide me with a working password. I've been doing a lot of thinking and it is just obvious that we don't meet each other's needs. I especially don't meet his. He can't trust me or be who he is with me. I am stubborn, selfish and judgemental, moody and lazy. He deserves to find someone who will finally make him truly happy and it just doesn't look like that will ever be with me.
I have decided that it is time that we divorce. It is killing me, though. It seems to be the best thing for him, he just doesn't have the courage to decide on his own. I will leave him with everything, with the stipulation that he must provide housing and health care for Precious for at least two years. By then, I will hopefully be settled in whatever the next phase of my life will be. I hate this. I continually pray to God and hope that it is His will to repair this marriage. I sorry to admit that doesn't seem to be the case.
January 1, 2011
The beginning of another chapter. This year, I have determined, will be the "goodest" year of my life, God willing. Not just the best, because best implies better than all the rest and being better than previous years could still suck. So goodest, by etymology, I assume if it were a real word, would mean the most good. So this year will be filled with good. Somehow. Good.
March 18, 2011
My new chapter has given way to yet another chapter. It appears that the man that I married has a serious issue with sex addiction. I don't know how deep it runs, whether it is just porn or if the rendezvous e-mails I found were followed up on, but my world is changing. Strangely, though, I am very calm about it. The time that I have been spending with God and searching for His will in my life has left me at peace with my discoveries. So now I spend part of each day methodically and meticulously separating 15 years of my life.
He started going back to counseling. At this point, I am not hanging my hat on any promise of reconciliation. I've been through this before and I can't expect utopia. I don't know what happens next. I don't really think about it that much. I am finally at a point where I just think about where I am in the moment.
So many questions have been answered by this little discovery. Now I know why I have never been good enough, why I can't turn him on.
it has been a couple of months and i am still home. ill mail in the separation papers next week.
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