That One Time I Had Boyfriend

Did you know that there is a break-up station on Pandora? Did you know that if you eat a cake by yourself while also drinking Coke that you might barf? Did you know that you over-analyze everything at 3 in the morning? Did you know that no matter how hard you stare at your cell phone that you can't will a text message into existence? Did you know that breaking up is hard to do?

I've been trying to figure out how and when to write about this, but I've decided to put my balls (boobs) to the wall and just go for it. And just as a disclaimer, I'm okay now. I'm over it. Mostly.

Yes, I had a boyfriend. And no, I will not give you details of the who, why, where, or when, but I had one. I know I share the crap out of my life, but I kept him private and all to myself. Well, some of my close friends and family members knew about him or even met him, but I didn't want to talk about him on the blog or even on Facebook because I was afraid I would jinx things. About a month ago, (I guess this gives away the timeline a little) I finally remembered to update my relationship status. It would have been fine, but I accidently allowed the world to see it for a few minutes when I meant to keep it private. I guess I did jinx it because it's over now.

I knew from the beginning that it wouldn't work. We wanted different things out of life, we were too far apart in age, we had opposite views on religion and love and The Family Guy. We were wrong from the beginning, but I am an expert at ignoring the wrongness and hoping it'll work. I am an expert at attracting the wrong guy.

The ending of it sucked, but the beginning and the middle were fantastic. Something stupid romance novels are written about. I was terrified to be in a relationship again, but I'm so glad I did it. He was cute and hilarious. He was a wonderful kisser. He took me to nice places. He made me smile and feel important. He allowed me to have opinions and to swear and be the pervert I am deep down. He simply allowed me to be myself.  

See. You don't need to be afraid that if you date me I'll bash you on my blog. I tell the straight up truth. If you're a cool person, you will be portrayed as such. He was a cool person. He still is. We just weren't right for each other and that's okay.

It wasn't all the serious, but it still hurt because it mattered more to me than I thought. He mattered to me and I mattered to him, and I will miss it. Having someone to talk to late at night, having someone to hold my hand, having someone kiss me goodnight. It might have been wrong and doomed from the start, but the middle made it all worth it.

But because of this ex-boyfriend, I have gotten my groove back. He helped me remember that I am awesome and amazing. He helped me find my confidence again, something that had been stolen by my ex-husband. He made me remember that relationships can be good and fun and two-sided. So thank you, Ex-Boyfriend. You know who you are. Thank you for making my life a little brighter. Thank you for being you and for prepping me to date Tom Hiddleston or Zac Efron. I'm sorry it ended, but I'm not sorry that it happened.

Welcome to the Baggage Claim: There be foul language up ahead. But I edited it because I'm nice like that.

Will you wait for me at the baggage claim?
Will you help me sort through luggage and the pain?
The contents are black and heavy
I'm afraid to look inside, afraid the break the levee.

Oh, the proverbial baggage. I've got a sh*t ton, y'all. Enough to fill up the JAX airport. I'm trying not to let it weigh me down, but it's heavy. My back aches from dragging it around. I try not to think about it. I shoved it into the corner of my bedroom, and there it sits, like the fat, pink elephant in the room. The giant thing taking up so much space, but we don't speak about it.

When I love you, I trust you. Completely. My trust became a joke, something to be used. I don't trust now. I am wobbly and unsure, and pretty certain that everyone, even the pope, is a liar. I used to see the best in people only. Now the cracks and fissures consume. It's hard to see the good, the potential. All I can see is the future when he'll change his mind, when all he can see are my cracks and fissures, the ugliest parts of me. It'll end because everything does. Even the brightest star explodes into nothingness. And the darkness stays, and stays, and stays.

I keep seeing this quote that goes a little something like this, "Find someone who loves you enough to help you unpack your baggage." Here's my problem with it. I don't like help, especially when I can do everything all by my own damn self, all the time. I am an independent woman, who don't need no man. I don't like the idea of a man being the reason I get over my crap. I want to get over the crap all on my own. It means more when you go it alone. It makes you stronger, braver. Or maybe more hardheaded, which is also the truth about me.

And maybe having baggage isn't a bad thing. When someone gives you up so easily, all you want is someone to give a crap. Someone to fight just the slightest bit. Maybe I do want someone to help me unpack. Complicated things are the things most worth working for. I am a mess. I am a tight ball of neurosis and fear. I have learned a valuable lesson from it all. Nothing is a guarantee. Not next week, not your tomorrow, not your next breath. I have learned that life is full of the unexpected. Life will screw you over. Love will make you cry, but the pain is worth it. The pain makes it real. So don't think about how much it could hurt. Think about how happy it will make you, if just for a little while. But sometimes I'm scared the baggage will crush me. The refining fires will burn me beyond recognition, and I will fade. I don't want to fade. I want to burn brighter than the sun.

Who will stand with me in the stormy baggage claim? Who will see me through the hurricane and help me unbury the life I want? And who will be there when I finally get there, when I'm at my best, when I am everything I've ever wanted?

If I were you, I'd get in on the ground floor because pretty soon this girl is going to meet Tom Hiddleston or Zac Efron, and let's face it, once we met, we're as good as married.

 



The Darkest Night and Shortest Day

Happy Winter Solstice!

People often find it strange that I am a Christian, and also follow a few Pagan holidays. I don't think it's odd at all. So much of Christianity is based on Pagan traditions. The New Year is just another word for Winter Solstice. And we all know that I am secretly a witch.

The shortest day and darkest night is also the day I found out about my ex-husband's affair and the night he asked for a divorce. The light faded and it truly was the longest night of my life. He slept the sleep of the guiltless, while I stayed up, sobbing and packing, cursing a woman who claimed to be my friend. I spent that night alone, more alone than I'd ever been. I was abandoned by everything, even the light. When the sun rose, I called my daddy and told him to come get me. Then I called my best friends Tiffany and Erin. They took care of me that day when I could not move from the weight of grief. They made me smile and remember my worth. They helped me see the light of the new day.

And now, I have made it through the longest, darkest year of my life. I have made it back into the light. Tonight I celebrate the year when I freed myself from an oppressive man, the year I found my voice again, the year I came back to myself.

A Year in the Review: What I Did With My Box full of Darkness.

I don't even know where to begin this, but it's been a year, and I feel like I need to put it into words.

The nightmare has lasted for two years. Every morning, I wake up and pretend it's not real. Push down the gut feelings and the sixth sense. The Lord wouldn't let that happen. I'm a good girl and good girls always get their reward.

Where are you? Are you working late again?
I told Lauren I had to run to the store, so we can met up.
Who was that text meant for? Who's Julia?

I don't love you. I never did. You had to have known that all this time I was only pretending. I need you out of the house. We need to start our new life.

Daddy, can you come get me and the boys? Can you hurry?
I'll be right there, baby girl. I love you.

Should I pack this?
It won't fit. Leave it behind. Leave everything.

Stay. Please, stay. Don't take them from me.
They were never yours, but mine. I have loved them. I have bathed them, fed them, held them. You were too busy falling in love with someone else. I was never yours either. I got lost as I twisted myself inside out for you. I will never be what you wanted. You see, I never loved you either, even though I tried to pretend. To force it.

The darkness has become as thick as tar, covering everything, stealing the breath I need to survive. My lungs are burning, tightening, wanting to give up. But the night faded into day, and the girl I used to be whispered that it was time to wake up.

I'm sorry I can't buy that color blouse. I'm not allowed. He wouldn't like it.
Wait. I didn't mean that. I'm buying every fucking navy colored piece of clothing in the store.

Do you remember when we used to swim here when we were little?
I remember how you used to sing when you were happy.
I am happy. Almost. I'm close.

Mama, why doesn't daddy call us? Does he not love us anymore. Where is he?

Ms. Marchand, please don't make us do summer reading. I don't want to write this essay.
Coach Lauren, is this how you do a toe touch?

We should go out tonight. We should have fun.

You're the greatest mom in the world. I love you.

I sing all the time now. I can't shut up.

Sometimes I take out the box of darkness and peak inside. It's all but empty now. I should throw it away. I should bury it deep in the woods. But I keep it because I want to remember--where I came from, where I've been, the sad girl I turned in to. I want to remember the darkness, because for the first time, I'm exactly where I want to be, surrounded by people who love me, living the life I never thought I wanted, but the life I needed.

And I love myself now, too. I went through hell, but I found her. I found Lauren.

I never thought I could be grateful for my box full of darkness, but I am. Light has penetrated my life again. The sun is soaking into my skin. I know who I am now and that I am made up of pretty strong stuff. I am a badass. I am better than I was before, more myself.

I am happy. So ridiculously happy. And I can't stop singing.

So Tell Me Want You Want, What You Really, Really What.

All I want to do is a zigazig Ha. And I am.

I have recently come into the habit of taking exactly what I want when I want. I no longer waste time wondering if I’m worth it or I deserve it. I have decided that I am as beautiful as the sunrise, as smart as a trickster, and funny as hell. I spent the last ten years of my life, being told I wasn't good enough. Loving myself is a triumph. I'm proud of who I've become and proud I made it through hell.

I will get the wonderful things life has to offer me. I will no longer wait for the wonderful to come. I have stopped being scared of the unknown. When there is nothing more to lose, everything can be gained. I lost a lot. Then I lost some more. And a little more.

For the first time, I am free. I am not bound by expectations or rules. I am me whether you like it or not. I am faithful, yet unfeeling. I am obsessed, yet relaxed. I need you, but need no one. I am kind but tough. I am passionate but platonic. I am only predicable in my unpredictability. I am a paradox. I am a complication. And I am everything you've ever wanted to be.

I am dancing in the sunshine, breathing in the coming air. Reveling in the gifts of life. The pain has turned me into something greater. Now the happiness has come into my heart, overtaking me.

If you want it, ask for it. Take it. It's yours because you deserve it. Don't stand around, waiting for someone to offer you what you want. It's yours, honey. You deserve it. No one can stop you but yourself. So when that little voice inside your head tells you that you cannot, tell it to go to hell. Live your life. Be thankful. Be humble, but take what is yours. Be happy. Be you.

 

Home is Where You Keep All Your Crap

I used to have really nice things. I had a two-story house in a beautiful community. Hiking trails lead to a brand new park. I had high-end furniture, art, a 52 inch TV, and matching dishes. I had beautiful things, but I couldn't bring with me when I left. Honestly, I didn't want them. All we could fit into the trailer was the boys' bedroom furniture. And I feel like I have to explain this every time someone new comes into our apartment, with its thrift store kitchen table, tiny TV, an secondhand furniture.

I am not proud of my crappy apartment, but I should be. I love the freedom I have in it. No one can tell me what shows I can watch on my small, cheap TV. No one can tell me that I'm not allowed to drink Coke right out of the bottle. No one can tell me that I can't buy a brown couch if I want to.

Freedom is better than the nice things. Being alone is better than being controlled. Being happy for the first time in years outweighs anything.

I saw my uncle at church today. He asked me how my life is and I smiled. Then I read this scripture in Sunday School. "Blessed are ye that weep now, for ye shall laugh." Luke 6:21.  I feel like I'm finally laughing. The petty things that used to matter don't anymore. Sure I don't have everything I want. I don't have my dream job yet, but I love the one I do have. I don't have a luxurious dominical, but I have a good one. I don't have that book on the shelves yet, but it'll happen, and this time I'll get a better agent. 2014 is almost over. I just have to get through December, and I'll be laughing to myself all 2015.

But not like a crazy person.

The Recesses of Hell

You might be wondering about the recesses of Hell that I'm going through. There are nine circles in Dante's Inferno. Nine ways to be tormented. I feel like I am there, swimming in the sea a brimstone and fire, slowly burning into ash.

I thought I knew what loss and hurt were. I thought I understood a little something about disappointment, but I was wrong. It gets worse. Pain can always sear deeper into your flesh and there is always something more to lose.

My agent, who has had my book for over two months, who was supposed to help me sell it, has decided not to represent me. At the hardest time in my life, she dropped me as a client. And she's known what has been happening. She has been there with me, talking to me on the phone as I cried. She is the one who suggested I take a few months off and gather myself. But I guess her plan all along was to slowly let me go. She says that she doesn't want to represent fantasy anymore, so I'm out. Last year, she thought I would be famous. She thought I would be at Comic Con prompting the movie that came from my book. But she changed her mind when I didn't get picked up by a publisher on the first round.

 I had always hoped and prayed that getting this book published would not only be a way for me to support my family, but a gift at the end of this long, harrowing road. A bright spot in the darkness. But there are no lights at the end of the tunnel. There is no hope. There is only continuing to exist. Dreams are just dreams, foolish inventions of the mind to help us cope with the harsh realities of life.

I thought everything that could be taken away from me had been. I didn't have much to begin with, but the desires of my heart continue to be ripped from my life. I couldn’t find a real teaching job to save my life. My family is broken. My sons will grow up without a father. And I will never be enough.

 I wish I could say that God does not exist, but I have seen him in my children. Seth has enough faith for the both of us. Seth is the reason I have not stopped going to church. He will be a good man, perhaps the best in the history of mankind, and it will be because of his faith and gratitude. He is the rock of my life. And Benny remains my beautiful beast who always knows the right moment to say, "I love you, Mama. You're the best mommy in the world."

I know things could be worse. I have my boys and my family and friends who love and supposed me. At least I have that. But I don’t know what else I have. Not much. A crappy apartment and a job that doesn’t pay enough. A talent that tortures me.

I do not know why this continues to happen. Is the Lord laughing at me or steeling me up from something more. At the end of this, I will either be the strongest woman alive or the weakest. Is it selfish to want prayers answered? Is it wrong to chase the life you've always wanted? Is it horrible to want more than you are given? I am not questioning if God exists, but if he hears me or even cares. He has not spoken to me in so long, but I have continued to pray to him, waiting on his timing. Yet he stays silent, withholding the world from me.

Eighteen months ago, when I was still trying to get an agent, I had never prayed more for anything in my life. I begged and pleaded, and finally my prayers were answered. I knew that this book would be published. I knew it with certainty. Then when I was in that slave cabin in Charleston, I felt another confirmation. But maybe that wasn’t the Lord speaking to me at all. Maybe it was head telling me heart what it wanted to hear.

People keep telling me not to give up, but that’s what I’ve been doing. I have been fighting for years. Giving up is not in my nature. I am relentless. Or crazy. I have been trying and trying. But I’m so tired. So tired.

In the Inferno, two poets manage to climb their way out of hell, and they literally had to crawl over the Devil to do it. But they got out. They triumphed over evil. They're prevailed.

"We mounted up, the first and I the second,
Till I beheld through a round aperture
 Some of the beauteous things that Heaven doth bear;
Thence we came forth to rebehold the stars."
-Dante's Inferno

We have to go through hell to see the stars again. But hell is dark and lonely and never ending.