Day Three of being completely, totally out..... and somehow: I'm still here.
Still gay..... just in case anyone was wondering.
I should answer a few things for people - Scott wants to know what the "flock is with all the gay stuff"? Well.. I'm a lesbian. Shirley say's she saw the break-up with Carhartt coming... which is odd because Carhartt didn't see it coming - and *I* didn't see it coming.... it just is and it's very sad and heartbreaking for both of us. So much so, I'm not going to write much more about it. No one did anything wrong - Carhartt is a fantastic person... but sometimes love isn't enough.
Shirley also say's the media will have a "field day" with this.... but I'm guessing they won't. I could be wrong - but I truly don't think they give a sh*t.
There's also concern from some of my very favorite readers - Charlie... I'm speaking to you - that I somehow don't like men or that I now "hate" men..... nothing could be further from the truth.
In fact.... it's my distinct *lack* of dislike for men in general that had me thinking (for many years) that I was really just a straight girls obsessed with boobs.... other peoples: not my own. lol
The hardest part about growing up gay in the 1980s was that.... it was the NINETEEN-EIGHTIES!!!!! I had no exposure to anything or anyone "gay"...... also, and PARENTS - please listen to what I'm writing:
I did not *know* I was "gay" as a child..... this is really really REALLY important for you to hear. I knew that I liked girls... I knew that I thought boys were ok - but I never had a keen desire to figure out how *they* had sex... or whatever..... so without any exposure to other people like myself - I had no idea who I was, only that I *IDENTIFIED* as a girl who liked girls.
The word *identify* is crucial here.
As a child NO ONE had to come up to me and like "educate" me on being gay - especially as a very young child - talk about sexual relationships isn't very appropriate.... however, if I had been exposed to a friend have same-sex parents, or seeing some on a popular TV Show or reading about them in a good - in a *positive* light.... then I could have *seen* that and found a social reflection of my own *identity*.
Being a lesbian is less about going down south and *more* about who I am. I have stood in a straight world for a very, very long time .... and never fit in. I always felt different. I always felt separated from them. I admired their marriages and talk about passionate sex.... and then I went home and tried creams and potions to *try* to make sex with a man something that I enjoyed *as much* as other women said they did... but no manner of creams ever did the trick. I assumed I was broken that something was wrong with me.... so I just kept trying......
Ariel doesn't grow land-legs to run on the beach hand in hand with Princess Ericka.... Jasmine doesn't munch on a flying carpet with Alanna..... Janet Jackson and Madonna and Cyndie Lauper sing songs about boys - no one sings songs about falling in love with girls..... (if *only* I knew what "She Bop" ACTUALLY freakin' meant.... lololol).
My entire world was straight.
Like most tweens I just wanted to be liked... I wanted to rock my Debbie Gibson inspired waist high pants rolled up at the ankle complete with giant bangs and more hairspray that the ozone layer cares to remember..... and every movie ends with The Girl getting The Boy ..... so I wanted a Boy, too.
I wanted their attention. I wanted to wear their lettermans jackets to *feel* like I belonged.
I've written about my first kiss.... but the version you read was made slightly rosy...... The truth is that my middle school boyfriend *was* a football player... AND our first kiss *was* rather perfect with me placed a top a yellow striped curb behind the Burger King..... BUT. That first kiss only came AFTER The Middle School
Boyfriend had made out with my Middle School Best Friend in my parents garage on Halloween night.
The Middle School Boyfriend came over dressed as a Zombietypething, I was dressed as Scarlet O'Hara and my Middle School Best Friend was dressed as an 80s rocker chick.... we went out trick or treating as a group and The Middle School Boyfriend kept trying to kiss me in the darker corners of the track - tugging my white gloved hand to spots under tree's or behind driveway pillars.... and I kept saying no.
I didn't want to kiss him.
I didn't want to kiss any boys.
Which was so f*cking confusing.... I wanted their attention. I would lay around on the bedroom floor literally DYYYYYYY.ING for this boy or that boy to call the rose colored phone in my bedroom..... and when they would call: I would float on cloud nine for days....
But kissing..... yuck. No thanks. Nope, not interested.
Not. At. ALL.
At the end of the night I had gone in the house for something and said Middle School Boyfriend and Best Friend made out in the garage where the neighbor girl saw them and told me the next day.....
But I blamed myself... if I had kissed him any of the times he had tried - then he probably wouldn't have wanted to kiss her.... so I didn't tell them that I knew. I kept wearing the jacket to every class, every day - no matter *how* hot it was in the classroom ... I wasn't going to let the weather affect my connection to fitting in... f*ck no.
And the next weekend .... I relented and kissed him.
It was magical.... as far as first kisses go.... and I prefer my rosy view of it - but deep down.... even at the time - I knew that I didn't want to be kissing him. Even from the very, very beginning, intimacy with men would be something I felt I was obligated to do - not something I wanted to do.
It was a very confusing time.... one that would hang on right up 8 months ago: How can I *like* men - and *still* be gay? How could I have desired their attention but not THEM? It makes little sense to 38 year old me *now* -..... and needless to say - 14 year old me didn't bother trying to sort it out. Bring on the string of boys for sweaty-hand holding and awkward kissing and exchanging notes in the hallway and sneaking out at slumber parties for late night walks.....
No one ever told me that it would okay if *I* didn't want to kiss boys.... and they sure as sh*t didn't tell me that I might like kissing girls.... so I just of ... existed that way. I didn't dream about boys or girls.... I didn't understand my own identity, so I didn't know that I *could* dream about girls and the ground wouldn't actually open up swallowing me whole and dragging me down to hell.
Yeah... Church was kind of that for me.
If I saw a girl - usually a boyish looking girl.... and I got "those feelings".... I would literally RUN from the room sure that the boyish girl and everyone in the room could see my inside's lighting up like a freakin' heat map... and then no one would like me: no one would be my friend.
So I held onto those lettermans jackets for as long as I could wrapping myself in the social security of their wool bodies and leather sleeves....
It's a hard thing to explain... people who are gay, for the most part, absolutely get it.... my straight friends kind of do.... and then kind of don't. Someone asked me once why it even matters if I like girls who look like boys anyway - what's the difference.....?
For several decades I tried to tell myself that there wasn't a difference.... I was wrong.
I didn't know it then, and by the time I *knew* it... it took me nearly two decades to accept it.
I was lonely.... so .... so.... lonely. I knew I was different - I felt.... wrong and shameful. I thought that if people found out that I didn't want to be kissing boys - that they would hate me and not hang out with me...I thought my family would disown me because sooooo much work was being put into making sure I was a "good girl" and right or wrong... my family didn't identify strap-ons and making out with girls as "good".
NOT. AT. ALL.
I don't blame anyone... it was a different time, a different place - and to that end, kids *now* have it easier than I did.... and they don't at the same time.
Gay kids *now* have to go to school with kids of parents LIKE ME. Adults who were raised in a somewhat homophobic world.... and I think even thought our KIDS are getting the message ... some of us still aren't. We're talking about fags and queens and whatever.... and our kids are hearing those things and bullying kids at school... or worse yet - your kid *hears* you say "fag" and knows it's a "bad thing".... so they stuff down their own feelings - afraid to be who they are - afraid to be themselves.... afraid to be called a 'fag' by their own parents because kids always want to be good - not bad.
So the message for faaaar too many kids is that you don't want to be 'bad', 'fags' are bad... so don't be a fag.
At least .... that's how I felt. Even without growing up in a family that used those words - there was (I felt) an underlying message that doing anything other than growing up and marrying a man would be bad....
And so began decades of self-hate.... anger at myself for not being able to be "normal".... disappointment with myself when my mind would battle with my instincts.... and my mind would always win - leaving my heart in turmoil.
Turmoil because I *liked* men..... they open your car door and bring you flowers and talk on the phone with you for hours.... they complete you in a middle school social circle.... and I liked ALLLLLL of those things... but I didn't want their hands on me. I didn't dream about boys. I didn't dream about making with them or doing other things with them.... mind you - I didn't dream about girls either - so without understanding myself.... I was just left in turmoil.
I didn't need anyone to show me lesbian porn or some such thing.... but - had I just *seen* a positive portrayal of two women - holding hands, kissing on a sidewalk, raising a family.... being... *normal* - then I would have know that *I* was normal.... and I might have been a very different person.
I didn't need anyone to explain 'sexuality'.... however, I did need someone to validate how I 'identified' - which was as a girl who liked girls and a girl who would later discover that the earth would not open up the first time she made out with a girl.....
This morning fell apart and I left my laptop at home for a meeting... so I had to scratch the gym, then go to my meeting, *then* go the gym. However, the kids club is closed by 12noon, so the kids stayed home with The Bubbie and I went in later than I usually do.
Walking into the front doors my phone is going crazy..... a client is IMing me on facebook, my publisher was calling from the UK to set up an interview (super exciting!), my email was going crazy and I'm trying to check in to the gym and so I sit down on the leather seat in the lobby to finish my call and in walks......
And, I have a teeny-weeny confession to make... one, which will no doubt reign the slight annoyance of many of you upon me......
A few years I set up a membership at a gym - and at the time, they had a kids club special, which was only $10 per kid per month - AND - you get two hours a time and you can go twice a day if you want. That is an AMAZING deal... they don't even offer it anymore.
So, years went by - and I went off and on... and when I didn't go, I considered it my "fat tax". Money I couldn't otherwise spend on food or trinkets or going out... a constant reminder that I *should* be making the most of it and going to the damn gym.
A few years ago I added El Capitan to my membership plan. Now.... the answer to the question you're alllll wondering is: no, I did not cancel his membership.
Even when I KNEW he was lying and telling me that he *needed* the membership because he was "showering" there because he was "homeless" even though he was living with Yoga Girl: He asked me not to cancel it, and I did not.
Even when our divorce was final, our assets were separated: I did not cancel his membership.
There are *many* hills I have had to climb - and few I've had to "die on" so-to-speak - during this divorce process.... a gym membership was the least of my concerns and not something I was willing to throw down about. Let me explain.
Right or wrong... it seems petty to me - to cancel El Capitan gym membership. It's $29 a month. $29 bucks that say's - "I'm not a b*tch - and I'm showing you a kindness..."
It doesn't make me a saint... it doesn't make me the 'bigger person': it's simply a kindness.
Sure, one could argue, that El Capitan doesn't deserve my kindness - and the Ex-Wife in me might completely agree with this... but My Kid's Mother thinks is $29 and cancelling it would be petty... and I didn't want to be petty.
So, he still has the same gym membership attached to mine and I pay for it.
At least for now.
So there I was, on the phone to London, in my gym clothes (looking *awesome*) - and El Capitan walks in and plops down on the chair next to me. He waits for me to get off the phone and I fill him in on the interview - and he's genuinely excited for me.... he hopes The Book is doing well.
The conversation between us is easy.... free from anger - free from the usual suspicions that have haunted many of our recent conversations.... we're laughing - I'm cracking a few jokes about Yoga Girl, he's letting a few laughs slip, he tells me about some *crazy* ex-wife videos he watched on YouTube, we talked about The Boy's birthday: what to buy? What about a birthday party?
If you were sitting across from us: you would think it was two old friends chatting.
Not two exes who have made National news because El Capitan's a cheater..... not two people, one of whom was screaming at the other only three days ago - and who struggle at times to get along.
It was...... normal.
Now, the good news is that.... while I *enjoyed* talking to him - sorting out a few things - it didn't make me miss him. It didn't make me sad.... instead of making me think - "why did he leave?" blah blah blah..... I left our conversation thinking ... sweet: forward progress.
At this point... I'll take any freakin' progress I can get, honestly.
I went on my way, turned on Breaking Dawn and started my ten mile bike ride.... and after I thought about it, I realized that I still fell *whole*. I didn't feel sad or angry or bitter.... or ..... anything at all.
And *that* - the absence of pain, the absence of feeling a great loss and sadness: that made me happy.
I sat there watching Breaking Dawn and I started thinking about a facebook chat with a friend from last night and they asked me, "Are you ready to meet your "Edward"?
At the time, I didn't really have an answer.
At first it really caught me off guard because lots of people talk to me - talk around me - sh*t... talk *about* me - but not that many ask about me. (Alex... you're clearly not in that group. :)
The last ten months were hard. I didn't see it coming, didn't even think I should be worried about such a thing - and then suddenly I was faced with dealing with the betrayal of it all.
Really... it was the betrayal that hurt the most - the lying.... and - El Capitan went OUT OF HIS WAY to continue to lie and be hurtful welll after I field for divorce. Part of "healing" has been coming to terms with the fact that this person who was supposed to love me and protect me was doing the EXACT opposite.
It was really hard to understand that. Hard to accept JUST that - regardless of who had done it to me.
Then I had to realize and come to terms with the fact that El Capitan wasn't the man he was supposed to be... and so, I kind of had to grieve that loss. I had to grieve the loss of the husband I *thought * I had, but never had.... which is complicated, but necessary.
I am .... a lot of things, but mostly I'm loyal, honest, true, I'm a good friend - and I'm the kind of friend who can go through hard times with someone - who can forgive a friend if they done or said something that wasn't kind or was a wrong.... I'm the kind of person who *believes* in people - and while I *do* have a bit of a "hard candy shell" (especially with media people) - I'm very easy going - and I *always* try to do the right thing. Period.
El Capitan knows all that about me ... and did what he did anyway - that was hard to try to understand and accept.
Today, sitting in the gym lobby, I realized that all of the emotions tied up with the above issue's were.... gone. I got up and walked tot he locker room *not* in a cloud, but laughing at something funny El Capitan had said and then went on to the bike. Simple. Nice. Normal.
So then I started thinking about the question from the night before.... I don't know if it's a question about "being ready" for anything... instead, I think that (and most importantly) I'm *excited* about the possibilities of meeting people who *will* see and value the things about me that El Capitan did not.
I've come to accept the reality that my marriage was *not* full... and at many points, it was not happy, which is really, really hard for me to admit. And even though I was always trying to *make* it happy -the truth is that that didn't actually mean *I* was happy.
Talk about a *serious* realization.
Am I "ready" for my potential Edward? Well.. in the first place I'm not all that sure there's an "Edward" that's interested.... BUT, regardless of that: I'm ready to be happy.
I'm ready to get to know people and start enjoying my life again - and at some point - the person who *will* protect me at all costs - the person who *will* value me and love me, the person who is *meant* to spend their time laughing and enjoying the children *with* me, ...... they will find me... and who the hell isn't ready for that? hahahah
And.... you know what - *if* I had cancelled El Capitan's gym membership... it might not have happened. If I had been petty - just because I could - after all, *why* should I pay for someone who cheated on me to work out and get buffer for Yoga Girl and a million other reasons *why* I would have been justified in cancelling his membership..... if I had done that - I *might* have missed out on the healing that today's conversation brought me. What a loss that would have been for me.... certainly a bigger loss than the potential "thrill" of cutting of his gym membership would have possibly (but not likely) brought me.
So today.... we're going to call it a Win for Kindness.
Sometimes.... just a little bit of kindness - even if undeserved - goes a long way.
When I was a kid we moved around quite a bit. We went from the West Coast of hippie-lovin' to the deep South of racial lines drawn at all times - and then to Iowa..... land of corn.We had always lived in big town - outside Seattle, in Huntsville - and so to move to teeny tin Mt. Vernon, Iowa population 3,000 or so... was a change, to put it mildly.It was lovely sheltered little place where people *really* didn't lock their doors. All the popular girls spent their time on their backs with the Senior guys. There were lots of parties and booze.... I did none of that. I was ... not very interested in spreading it for some 17 year old with sloppy hands and eager fingers. I wasn't sure *what* was in my future, but I was certain I didn't want to leave pieces of me in back seats across that small town.So, I was a bit of a loner at times. I had friends ... but I never really "fit in". It's hard to go from living in big city where you are *well aware* what gang violence is because you've seen it while visiting your Godmother who lived in Oakland at the time... and then sit in a "History" class that covered 'current events' for the first 30 minutes each Monday and the class actually refused to believe the stories of teenagers being shot for their Air Jordans there are in the magazines at the time. The concept of colors - as in Bloods and Crips - was something of fiction to them - and any knowledge of it meant that I was a fabricator and a liar... because in a town where no one locks their front door, where people leave their keys in their ignition... you can't fathom someone shooting someone else for their shoes.I wanted to *kiss* John Singleton when Boys N The Hood came out.... no. Really.So.... I wasn't the most popular girl in school.... *they* did not understand me... and while I understood that their "sheltered" lives weren't bad because they were nice people, they weren't ignorantly 'sheltered' - it was just that they hadn't been exposed to things and experiences that I had. How could they? We still owned our Commodore 64 at the time - CNN was just coming into it's own and social media was actually still just a notebook that my BFF Carrie and I would pass back and forth to each other through our friend Matty at the time. We would spend all day writing entire novels to each other and then Matty would swap them out for us - because we went to different schools and Matty saw Carrie in the afternoon.I kind of miss that, to be honest.......Anyhow. I was always a little too grunge for the 'in' crowd in Mt. Vernon. I liked dirty skater boys and even had a Powell Peralta Tony Hawk deck in black with a hawk head on it... my Mom tossed it out when I moved to London... sigh. that's worth so much money now. lololI was never a proper betty - I just liked to watch. I'm scared of heights and speed... which is a bad combination if you're going to try to ride a skateboard. (for the record, The Boy can scale the 12 foot bowl and fakie like a pro and The Girl.... oh - The Girl loves to skate, she has her own deck with matching pink pro helmet and can ride up a 3 foot bowl).In 9th grade I wrote a story... I still have it somewhere... I don't remember the assignment, but I think we were supposed to write about where we thought we'd be in ten years or something like that. So I wrote this whole story about how I was going to marry Tony Hawk, who would become a huge professional skater and we would tour the world and end up living in the UK.
I drew this kind of morbid front cover for it with blood on a shower... something about The Cure at the time... The teacher loved it - she said I had a 'natural' writing style and I should think about taking more writing classes. The class, however... wanted to know who the hell Tony Hawk and Metallica were.Yes. True Story.
I had *no* idea that ten years later Tony Hawk would be *the biggest* skater and I would be living the UK.. just not married to him. Shame that... lolololAfter a few years of small town livin'... I had had enough. Really. Enough. So my parents moved me to a bigger school in Cedar Rapids. Where..... after 3 longs years of being the round peg shoved painfully into a square hole.... I finally fit it in for the last 2/3 of my senior year.I signed up for Journalism and quickly found myself as the chief photographer for the school newspaper... which is pretty much where I learned everything about photography. Honestly. Mr. Lindsey taught me everything I know but most importantly he taught me how to be a *good* photographer. I had taken this great photo of this kid in the cafeteria - and he was talking but getting ready to take a bite of a banana at the same time: the peel folded down the body and draping over his hand ala' Curious George style. He was leaning over with this animated look on his face and his mouth gaped open - it was a hilarious shot. I was pretty proud of the 'moment' I had captured. Mr. Lindsey scolded me, he said it was a good moment, but it wasn't a good "photograph". He said, "Your job is to take pretty pictures of people - whether they are pretty or not. You make them that way and you will always get hired for the next job."So I didn't run the blow-job banana photo and... and I never took another photo like it again. To this day, I always try to take nice pictures of people that make them look prettier and skinnier and happier... that's my job. It's crazy to think I built an entire career out of that... but it's true.I settled into the new school quickly, finding my skater boys and heavy metal boys and grunge friends.... I kind of hopped around a little bit of everywhere... I felt at home. It was amazing. That senior year I had a huge crush on my friend Rob, but I was already dating his friend... so it never went anywhere. sigh.....The week I turned 18, I celebrated every single day. My two BFF's at the time were Robin and Jada who were from Mt. Vernon. Every day at school I celebrated my birthday in a different class and then Friday Robin, Jada and I went "cruising" and I collected 18 kisses on the cheek. I was such a prude... seriously. Then that Saturday night... *that* night was the talk of school because I had made friends with the kid who owned our indoor skate park and he agreed for me to host a Birthday Mosh there. Rob and I had made Ren & Stimpy posters and hung them all around school and well over a hundred people came.Three bands played and I wore this way-too-short mini dress made of suede that was from the 1960s. It was epic. Like EPIC. Grunge was only *just* starting to make it to Iowa back then... so my desire to wear my Doc Martens under my dresses was *finally* getting accepted. Finally.That week... I met my first serious boyfriend... we'll call him Del. He was older, in his second year at the Community College and frankly... that's big stuff: dating a college boy. He was a drummer in a band, he was tall with dark brooding eyes and floppy black hair and a collection of flannel shirts that made me swoon in places I wasn't yet aware one could swoon.He was yummy.We "dated"....as you do in Iowa. He took me to watch planes land while laying on a pile of blankets in the bed of his giant silver truck.
We went to the movies and either of the two malls in town. We went to his shows.... I was smitten kitten and when he bought me a .25 carrot diamond promise ring not long before graduation... I thought I had found my future husband. (Again... 18, living in middle America - settling down at that age isn't really 'unheard of'.)It ended the summer after senior year... my first *big* heartbreak. The kind of breakup where you forget to eat and you stop showering and stop leaving your house for days and weeks on end because just leaving the house seems to hurt. The kind of *first* heart break that every parent knows is coming and would do anything to stop...but can't.I had ended things... but the break up got nasty. Really nasty. I kind of knew that forcing myself into a place where I didn't really fit in wasn't going to be a good life for me.... I didn't know where I wanted to go, or what I wanted to do, but I knew I had to be brave enough to call it off and find my own way. Still... hurt like a mother....The Bubbie was at wits end, Del was calling all the time - leaving nasty messages. One day he loved me and wanted me back... the next he was screaming at The Bubbie to "F*ck off".
To which ... my hand to G*d, The Bubbie replied, "If you wanna' f*ck me little boy you can come on over... but don't go making me promises you don't intend to keep." After that I had to move back into my parents house because Del had broken into my place and gone through my things and he started showing up at my work and at friends houses... stalking well before it was a "thing". My parents made me move home.Poor sweet, Iowa Farm Boy.... he was *not* expecting that answer from The Bubbie. lolololA few weeks after I moved home he made me a mix tape... of sorts. There were a few songs on it - he had recorded it on his dual cassette boom-box. Remember the kind where you could play a tape in one half and then record that tape onto a blank tape on the other half? Anyhow.... there were a few songs, but mostly it was just him talking about how much he loved me and how much he wanted me back. It went on for 90 min - a full 45 minutes on both sides of the cassette.My parents (still owning their Commodore) had an answering machine - the kind that ran on those itty-bitty little tapes.... and The Bubbie finding Del's poetic prose to be too much to resist - found the most embarrassing. blubbering, crying 45 seconds of the tape and recorded it onto the itty-bitty answering machine tape.For over 6 months, whenever you called our house, if you got our answering machine you would only hear poor sweet Del's voice telling you how much he loved you and how sorry he was that he refused to buy his own coke at the diner and it was wrong to make you share your diet Coke because it was *was* stealing to just keep getting the free refills and he wouldn't be so cheap down the road if you would just take him back....Hand to G*d. True story.
However... after that he stopped showing up at the house and at my job.During that time, Tante Louise called - she knew my heart was broken. She told me to go to the movies. She said, whenever you're sad, whenever you can't take it anymore - just get in the car and go to the movies. It'll be a two hour break for your brain and your heart. It's a safe and cheap way to tune out the pain - it's an easy way to have a reset button.
So I spent a lot of time at the dollar theater... I saw Cool As Ice
with Vanilla Ice soooooo many times that summer.... man: I wanted to be Kristin Minter so bad. lololololOver time... I began to heal and a few months later the opportunity to move to London presented itself and so with a whopping $100 in my pocket, I boarded a plan to London with a one way ticket: no return.
(*note* I have Right of Abode in the UK and can live there as a citizen and did not require a visa of any kind).Anyhow.... I look back now, so grateful for the movies. So grateful for the time that it bought me... I didn't spend my time hunting around for the next 'Del' to make myself feel better. I didn't look for the answer to my future inside the eyes of every guy I met... which, is frequently was immature girls do (just ask Yoga Girl). I just kind of.... escaped. And yeah - escaping into a world of Vanilla Ice wasn't exactly the stuff dreams are made of ... but it worked.Fast forward to the heart break that would redefine the words "emotional pain" for me.... there always seemed to be too much to do. As more things have gotten ticked off the list... divorce: done. House: sold. Children: have shelter/food/love, done (for now... anyway). Blog: up and running (though doesn't pay a dime - this b*tch is just for the love of doing it! ololololol) The Book: done, dusted and published (and making me less than $2 a book - lolol).The only thing left is...... me. I'm the last project I have to take on and it's really hard this time. I'm sans the perky tits of days gone by that did (on at least a few occasions) open a few doors... and I'm sans the pep and youthful hope that tomorrow holds amazing promise and a Happily Ever After.... Instead, I'm the poster child for the virtual 'Walk of Shame' one does after their husband leaves them for a younger, slightly thinner, gummier version of themselves..... sigh.So, what's a girl to do? I spend *a lot* of time .... at the movies.It really started with Twilight. I have worked so hard to bring everything together... I *literally* sleep less than four hours a night - between the kids and home-school and teaching and client jobs and the blog and the book... there just isn't more time to sleep. So I don't. I don't mind..... I don't want to miss out on this life by sleeping it away. I'll sleep in twenty years when the kids are grown and happy and whole... then I'll sleep.Anyhow. I was *really* looking forward to the Twilight marathon. 12 hours, just me. Me and Edward and Bella and Jacob (and some pretty sketchy acting in the first two hours for sure.....) - but I can lose myself in the story as it unfolds. Love it. Love it. Love it.I'm not seriously waiting for my "Edward"... I know that vampires don't really exist and I get it that marrying someone after knowing them for three weeks wasn't my best plan to date and I don't think I'm going to just meet my "Edward" and life is going to be great.... BUT., aside from warm comfy hours of escape.... it has brought to my heart and mind the idea that I settled a bit. I never had someone who protected me. May be he didn't love me enough to want to protect me... may be he just didn't know *how* to protect me.... whatever it was: it won't happen again. I won't settle for that a second time.I have a few friends who think I should already be dating... I think if they were in my shoes, they would already be dating. I have no desire. I think I need more time to sort through the betrayal and the pain... but - more importantly, so much of this has taken away from my time with the children, I can't imagine spending time away from them getting to know someone else. That seems... emotionally irresponsible
.So.... I go to the movies. It's a place where clients can't call me, email me, text me, IM me on facebook.... it's a place where no yells from down the hall, "Moooommmmeeeee - I'm done!" and I have to wipe someone's poopy butt. It's a place where I don't have to talk to anyone... about anything. I don't have to talk about El Capitan and the sh*t show my life has turned into... *most* importantly: I don't have to think. G*d bless movies and music for giving me the ability to just tune the f*ck out and lose myself in whatever they are pitching me.
115 minutes of Edward and Jacob and Esme and Emmett... and I've totally gotten into Nikki Reed now.... They can talk to me, talk for me, entertain me, and help me slip away from my own maddening, heartbreaking thoughts... and just *be*.I can just sit in my seat... in my Team Edward sweatshirt, under my Breaking Dawn II Edward fuzzy blanket, drink my diet Coke (with light ice) and breathe..... for 115 minutes I can breathe.I'm so grateful for that. Grateful for kids who go to bed and for movies that start at 10:15pm so I have time to get there... grateful for a theater manager who doesn't always make me pay because I've been so. many. times. Plus... I think she knows who I am and reads the blog (hi there!)... lololol.
Sometimes pity *does* pay... bwahahahahaha. :)While learning how to accept the catastrophic demise of my own Happily Ever After... it's oddly comforting to me to watch someone elses come to life and play out before me.
I'm grateful to Carter Burwell whose music is... so peaceful and moving. The title of the chapter in The Book where I find out about Yoga Girl is titled "So Hold On" - which is from the Robert Pattinson song Never Think
, which appears on the first Twilight soundtrack - that song has brought me an immense amount of peace on some truly hard nights.If I'm being honest... the first time I heard it I thought it was crap.. I could hardly understand what he was singing... then I looked up the lyrics and the song seemed to fit my life to a T. Odd that... very odd.So...today I am grateful for the chance to still breathe - even if it's only 115 minutes at a time. It's a stepping stone - and eventually it'll become a bridge to a better place for me - and if I can get to a better place, then the kids will be there with me by default.
I don't think the answers to my life are in Twilight... which is probably why I still have never read the books... I just like to go the movie. I just need my 115 minutes to be. That time for my brain to stop thinking and just.... relax. It gives me time to just rest and be and not think, not answer to people or clients... of even my own tortured self... but just be. More time of just being means a calmer Elle - who can get up the next day, shake off the fears and the pain and question marks that still loom over my now d-funked marriage - and start fresh each day trying to rebuild this life on my terms. Again... I'm a crazy twihard for sure.. I'm Team Edward all the way.... *but* I'm fully aware that my life is built on my terms, not some Hollywood fantasy. Trust me, I got that message loud and freaking clear. lolololIt's just those 115 minutes are a sacred time of peace and calm and pleasantness and to that I say: Thank Edward and Bella and Jacob and Stefanie Meyer.
In the craziest of ways... you have become a lifeline to myself.... it sounds more than a little cray-cray... but it's true.Here is the Robert Pattinson lyrics - you should buy the song... it's brilliant. :)
I should never think
What's in your heart
What's in our home
So I won't
You'll learn to hate me
But still call me baby
So call me by my name
And save your soul
Save your soul
Before your to far gone
Before nothing can be done
I'll try to decide when
She'll lie in the end
I ain't got no fight in me
In this whole damn world
So hold off
She should hold off
It's the one thing that I've known
Once I put my coat on
I coming out in this all wrong
She standing outside holding me
Saying oh please
I'm in love
I'm in love
Girl save your soul
Go on save your soul
Before it's to far gone
And before nothing can be done
Cause without me
You got it all
So hold on
Without me you got it all
So hold on
Without me you got it all
Without me you got it all
So hold on
Without me you got it all
Without me you got it all
So hold onYou can find it on Amazon HERE. :)
Cannot say enough how shocked I am by allllll the media attention. No doubt we've got to be on minute.... 8 or 9 of my solid "15 minutes" of fame - and I'm fully expecting this rocket to go ass up, t*ts down and hit rock bottom soon.... but until then, some friends thought I should make my own voice heard while people are asking... Mind you - I'm still wondering why anyone care what I have to say to start with... but here goes.
We - the Ex and I, we're going to call him.... El Capitan - why? Simply because he was my "rock" and frankly... he's been a bit rough to get over. lol So, El Capitan and I aren't too unlike *most* people we know - working crazy hours trying to make enough money to make ends meet and maybejustmaybe start getting ahead.... but alas, in our attempt to get ahead we got "apart" instead... though I truly never saw this coming. (of course having someone else climb on the El Capitan didn't help matters... but perhaps another blog post on that later..... hahaha)
So, just to be clear AGAIN. We are divorced. He cheated, she's 22 and does, indeed, love yoga (and married men with kids.... just sayin'). Faced with separating our assets... lol... as if we actually *have* assets. bwahahaha - sure, I think we all know I poses amble "ass"ests.... however, in terms of financial things that courts care about we didn't have much and we decided to sell the house.
My Mom and I am spent a month and a half cleaning and packing and moving our stuff out of the house.
El Capitan doesn't yet have a "fixed" address so *I*
rented a storage unit and moved his stuff there.... - so, yeah I guess all those internet posts are right - I did "clean him out" - only, I advance paid for the storage rental and gave him the lock and the key. Clearly, I really need to work on my master plans of "revenge" and being a "b*tch" ex-wife who "cleaned him out". lol.... I appear to really suck at those things.
For my business www.totallyradcards.com
- I make cards and stuff - allll day long. When it came to selling the house, having me make the For Sale By Owner Signs - seemed like a no-brainer. My Mom came up with a nastier sign and I made it a little more "pg" and I approached El Capitan about using the signs and he thought it was a hilarious idea and we both thought it would get the house exposure. NEITHER of us thought it would be about exposure of both of us... NEITHER of us would use this dark time in our family to "dupe" people or lie to them just to sell our house....
So now here are.... the phone rings and rings and rings - and I, being a simple artist without training in public
speaking or how on earth I'm supposed to answer questions about the *most painful* time of my life.... I think I trip over my words alot.... but, first and foremost, I want to be clear that cheating is *the worst* thing someone can do in a marriage. :( The affects have been emotionally catastrophic and painful beyond words... finding out about her was the very darkest hours of my life thus far...
However, I noticed that the days I cried and cried... so did the kids - over toys and tv time and whatever. Days that I was angry - so were they: fighting with each other toys and getting frustrated over little things far too
quickly. Then... on days when I dug deep and found the strength to paint a smile on my face - the kids were smiling, too. Even if I had to fake it in the beginning, they didn't seem to know the difference and so like a perfect little circle... the more I smiled, the more joy and happiness they found - which brought me around to finding my own laughter and joy and happiness.
That's the thing. I lost my husband - and yes... I'm well aware that the size of my Lane Bryant capri pants *seems* to be a reasonable reason for this according to some online folks.... but I can assure you: as a wife, a woman and a mother I am defined by who *I* am - not my size. :) just sayin'...... :) I didn't lose myself, my kids or my sense of humor.... she took my husband - but she's not takin' *me*, and she's not taking the joy I have as a mother and the gratitude I have for my life. THAT is mine... alll mine - and only *I* have the power not to giveit up to them and their decision.
So, that's me and my first blog... and all two or three "readers" that this will actually get.... but it's nice to know someone is listening. Feel free to comment.... more posts to come later if people want them.