Turning Point Part II

If you missed the last post, I recommend reading it before delving into this one, as it has the entire back story.

I left off with all of you feeling warm and fuzzy about my first love. It was a great time in my life, and one I remember fondly.

About 6 months into our relationship, things started to go south. He started to get depressed. We were about to graduate from high school and move onto real life. I don't know if it was the magnitude of that hitting him, but he was changing. He started to become dark. He had gone from being sweet to almost being cruel. I asked him many times if he wanted to break up, and he assured me he didn't. He told me I was the only thing good he had in his life. He asked me to be patient and to please stay with him. I loved him, so I did. As he went off the deep end, I went with him. I will spare you all the details of the next month, as it is just a sad story.

I realized on July 24th, our relationship was over when his parents asked me for his class ring back. They made up a story about wanting to get it engraved. I knew the truth. He was too much of a chicken to tell me goodbye to my face. In the two weeks that followed, our phone calls didn't happen every night anymore, and when they did, they were depressing. Then one day he told me he was going to live with his grandpa for a while to help out on his ranch . He told me to wait for him, and that he would call me when he got back and had things figured out. I never heard from him again.

In the weeks that I waited for his call, I wrote him letters. I poured out all of my feelings about what he was doing to me. Some of them I never intended to send, while others I knew I wanted him to read. Two weeks before I was to go off to college, I wrote him the final letter in which I called him a coward. I told him that I was done waiting, and that I was moving on with my life. As I always do when I part with someone, good or bad, I wished him all the best in his life.

Within the first month at college I had a new boyfriend (I had taken some bad advice to move on by finding someone new ASAP). We dated for about 4 months before my feelings for my previous boyfriend prevented me from feeling anything toward the current one. Who, by the way, was the most perfect man I have ever dated. Not perfect for me, but just perfect in general. We should have worked out, but I had too much baggage. The sad thing is, I didn't cry because we didn't work out, I cried because I missed my old boyfriend still. After we broke up, I refused to date. I didn't want to be looked at by guys, touched by them, or even breathed on by them.

I was going through my turning point. I was discovering myself and my worth. I began making all of the relationships in my life closer. I started to appreciate all of my family and friends even more. I was realizing what I really wanted in a husband. My whole life was doing a complete 180 from where I had been before I met him. Maybe that would have eventually happened had I not met him, but he got the ball rolling. I learned so much about myself and who I was as a person. I laid out what I thought was acceptable behavior from people around me and what wasn't. I was going from someone who was borderline bitter for no reason to someone who was appreciative of life and everything it had to offer.

The woman who popped out the other side was a woman completely different from the girl who went in.

Two days before I married my husband, I had a dream that I went back to my first love's house. His mother answered the door and was so excited to see me. Like her son, she thought I had returned to marry him. When he came around the corner, we embraced, and he began to tell me he knew I would come back. I sat him down on the couch and told him that I was actually going to be married to someone else in a few days. I informed him I had only come to thank him for being such an important part of my life. I didn't regret one bit of our relationship, and that all of it made me who I am today. I had learned so much from the experience, and I was grateful for the blessing it was in my life, even if it was hard at the end of it and for years afterward. My life would have been so different had he not been in it.

As I always do, I wished him all the best in his life and hoped that he found happiness because he deserved it. I then walked out of his life for good.

I wouldn't change a thing.

Turning Point Part I

Everyone has that one iconic moment in their lives where they look back and realize that was a major turning point. For some it happens sooner than for others, and for some these moments occur more than just once or twice. There is always one where you realize you have morphed from a child into an adult complete with freedom and responsibility. Sometimes there is one that shapes you into who you are today. Sometimes there is one that throws you off the path you thought your life was supposed to follow, but instead takes a completely different direction.

I often think about the turning points in my life. The first was my biggest and forever changed my outlook on myself, the people in my life, and my future. I look back on that time in my life when I was only 18 years old, and even though at the time it was one of the hardest times of my life, I wouldn't change a single thing. I went through everything I did so that I could become who I am today. That moment also made me realize I was becoming an adult, and that it was time to put away silly school girl fantasies and welcome myself to the reality of life.

About two weeks before my 18th birthday I met the first and only guy I ever truly loved besides my husband. He is the only guy who is not related to me to ever hear, "I love you," from my lips. Don't get me wrong, I dated a lot, but my love was never something I threw around frivolously. It meant something to me, and so I would only bestow it on men who really, truly deserved it. My mother often told me I was cold hearted when I didn't care after I broke up with guys. She never understood I never got emotionally attached unless I thought the guy had some serious potential.

For the next 7 months, our relationship had the classic Romeo and Juliet feel, right down to burning the candle from both ends. He lived three hours away from me, but we met at a weekend high school honor band function held at one of the state universities. The funny thing is, I was there to hook up with a guy I had met there the year before. But this new guy wouldn't have it. He wouldn't give me up for the world. He saw me going after the man I was there to pursue, but he intervened every chance he got. Eventually the other guy just backed down. To the victor went the spoils.

We decided after that one weekend that we wanted to be together and would do whatever it took to make it happen. He was more determined than I was and had the means to make it possible, so he did.

We would talk on the phone every single night for hours. He drove three hours out to my house almost every single weekend. Some weekends he would drive out to pick me up and take me back to his house, doing two 6-hour round trips in one weekend. I still can't believe his parents were completely okay with it.

Our love was sweet and gentle. It started out softly, and it grew stronger by the day. He was the first and only guy who ever wrote me love poems and letters. All of which are safely tucked away in my cedar chest. I had kissed many guys before him, but I had never french kissed before him. He was my first. I had thrown away my first kiss on a guy who was not worthy, so I had to makeup for the horrible first kiss by making the first french kiss special, meaningful, and full of desire.

We loved each other so much. We often talked about running away to Reno to get married. We went so far as to buy wedding bands, and once had his mother obtain a marriage certificate for us so we could fake out our friends. More than once we would get in his beat up little Ford truck and hop on the freeway to Reno. We would drive and say, "I am serious. I want to do this. Are you sure you do?" We were both serious. But for some reason, we never made it. Who knows why, perhaps it was divine intervention. I don't remember ever turning around or one of us backing out. Chances are I was the one who always got cold feet.

I thought or chances of ending up married one day were really good. We had a plan that included him building our house on a ranch where we could raise all sorts of animals and start a big family. We both wanted five kids. It all seemed so perfect.

I was still a naive child. My eyes were about to be opened.

To keep this post from being seriously long, I am going to break it up into two parts. Tonight I want to leave you with the warm, fuzzy part of the sweet innocence that is young love. Wrap yourself in it and breathe it in. Ah to be young again and experience all the thrills of the chase.

Rotten Tomatoes

A recent post by Noelle at The Desire of My Heart got me to thinking about all of the people I have wanted to throw rotten tomatoes at during my years of battling infertility. There is one that really sticks out in my mind, and no, I am not talking about my old friend. Although apparently I was not that great at choosing bosom buddies in my youth.

No, no, this friend was worse. The first time I ever saw her, I instantly disliked her (this was back in my more judgemental high school days). I didn't want anything to do with her. I thought she was annoying and stupid. Long story short, we became best friends. I'll leave out most of the details, but she moved away our senior year of high school and we managed to keep touch throughout the years. When we were 23 years old, she moved back on her own. We started hanging out and partying. It was like the old days again.

I told her I was not ready to get married and settle down. I was enjoying the single life too much. As I've mentioned previously, I was a bit of a player. She told me she felt the exact same way. A few months later she met a guy. Three weeks later they were engaged. Two and a half months later they were married. My opinion of her went down like an a-bomb. She had reverted back to being silly and stupid. Apparently she only agreed with me because she was afraid she would never get married. *major eye roll here* So she married the first guy that came along.

Anyhow, she tried to get pregnant for a few months, and the next time I saw her was at a funeral. She was five months pregnant at the time and I was newly married. She sat there and boo-hooed to me about how they had tried for six whole entire months to get pregnant and she had given up when it happened. If I knew what I was in for with my infertility adventures at that time, I would have slapped her silly. I do recall rolling my eyes at her.

About a year and a half later, I was deep in infertility treatments, and she was made aware of this. As most people I knew at the time intended to do when I told them what I was going through, she panicked and decided she needed to start trying to have a baby ASAP to prove she wasn't infertile.

One day she called me out of the blue, crying because she had been trying for three whole months to get pregnant without success. She told me she had made an appointment with a fertility specialist and she was calling to talk to me because she just knew I would understand what she was going through. I didn't. I was angry that she had called to whine to me. I basically told her to stuff it, offered her zero comfort, and gave her a less than half-hearted "good luck" before hanging up with her.

By the time her appointment rolled around, she was two months pregnant. Shocker. I wanted to smack her into next month.

We next talked when I happened to be 10 weeks pregnant. She was all "excited" for me, but when I told her how early I was she told me that I could still miscarry. B****. I thanked her for her concern and told her I had to go.

She recently wrote on my wall on FB to tell me that she is not only pregnant again, but that it is with twins. *add horrible acting where I pretend to jump up and down with glee whilst clapping my hands and bobbing my head from side to side then suddenly stop, give a dirtily look, and flip the bird* Good for you sweetie. Good for you. :

Let me pretend I care.... Nope, can't do it.

At her I throw rotten tomatoes. Many, many tomatoes.

Now tell me if any of you have a story in which you have wished to throw rotten tomatoes at someone so insensitive in your life. Here's your chance to fling a big, juicy, rotting off the vine tomato in the face of someone who deserves it so very much. Fling away friends!

Some of us are Gollums

A bit of my last post has gotten me to thinking the past couple days. In it I said that there is value in everyone. I still stand firm in that thought. When I say there is value, however, I don't necessarily mean that it is positive. Having said that, I do believe there is a positive to take away from all situations in life. It is all a matter of perspective and desire.

While I was contemplating the worth of people who do evil deeds, a quote from one of my all-time favorite movies, Lord of the Rings, came to mind. It is at a point where Frodo Baggins and Gandalf are in the Mines of Moria, watching as Gollum scuttles over rocks in search of his "Precious," or the ring that Frodo is carrying around his neck on a journey to destroy it. Frodo looks on at Gollum with a look of disgust and says to Gandlaf, "It is a pitty Bilbo did not kill him when he had the chance." He refers to his uncle Bilbo Baggins who also had encounters with Gollum, yet stayed his hand when it came to killing the creature. Gandalf's reply was simple, "It was pitty that stayed Bilbo's hand.... [Gollum] may serve a purpose yet."

While Gollum was a sad, pathetic little creature who seemingly only lived to fulfill his own wants a needs, Gandalf had the wisdom to know that his life would serve a purpose. In the end, it did. Gollum clutched the ill-fated ring in his hands as he fell into the fires of Isendard, destroying both the ring, and himself. He had served a purpose, and in the end, it was for the greater good.

Add to that, Gollum had obvious split personalities at times. There was the evil side of him who served only to benefit himself, and there was the good side of him that was once kind and giving, who wanted to trust and be of use to others. These personalities went to battle with each other often.

I recently read a story about an Ivy League student who was strangled and shoved in a wall just days before her wedding day. They eventually found her killer, but could find no other motive for his crime other than workplace violence. Most people would jump to calling him a horrible man right out of the gate. Burn him at the stake. I can't say I disagree. What he did was wrong, and he knew it. Hence his hiding his crime in a wall, hoping to never be found out. The latter shows that he is not purely evil. If he was, he would have proudly shown the world what he had done, as serial killers do. No, he had a moment of weakness. His family had come out and said they were shocked with what he had done. His girlfriend asked that people not judge her for being with him. He must have had some good in him.

The bible tells us that without sorrow, we cannot have joy. Sadly, and very unfortunately, that sorrow is sometimes brought on by the evil deeds of our fellow man. However, it is a necessary evil so that we might know the joy when we have it in our lives. While some people may truly be nothing but pure evil, they serve a purpose.

The fact is that in this world, some of us are Gollums who serve us by reminding us that there is good to be had, a positive to be found in all things.

He Didn't Take Any of it With Him

My last post was a segway into this post. I first wanted to get the point across about what a wonderful man I have for a father. I felt it would make this post more meaningful to my readers.

Last week I called my dad in tears, wondering how I was going to keep it all together. It felt like every time I would take one step forward in my life, I would be knocked back two. I never lost sight of what is most important to me, but the line between what was a priority and what wasn't had become too gray for my sanity. We have talked more frequently since my daughter was born and I started dealing with PPD. He has been there for me every step of the way, helping me find my way back, helping me put everything back into perspective.

During our conversation, I remembered what I had temporarily forgotten. This life is not about money, it isn't about clean houses, it isn't about job titles, or possessions. It isn't about looks, weight, or wrinkles. It is about family, friends, love, gratitude, and everything immaterial. All of the stupid things I was worrying or crying about when I called him would be a non-issue weeks, months, or years from that moment. They meant nothing in the grand scheme of things. They were just... things.

One of the last times I saw my grandmother before she died, she gave me some of her prized possessions. She knew that in a short matter of time, they would stay here, and she would depart this mortal coil. It was in that moment that I realized everything is just stuff. We can't take it with us. None of it.

I was relating this to my dad when he told me about how during the days after his father passed, he was standing in front of his dad's closet. My grandma came in and asked what he was doing. My dad replied, "Just looking at all of dad's things. He didn't take any of it with him."

Sure, things can bring us joy and pleasure during our existence on this earth, but they are not the end-all-be-all. They are certainly not anything to fret over. In the end, they mean nothing. Our relationships and who we learn to be during our time here is what matters.

Maybe there isn't anything after this life, and maybe there is. If there isn't, doesn't that making enjoying this life even more important? Why waste it lamenting what isn't? Why not enjoy the things we do have, but most importantly, our relationships with others.

I find myself being kind to everyone. There is worth in everyone. Sometimes it is hidden under the layers of of the person's experiences in life. Sometimes, and is rarely the case, the worth can be very minute, but it is still there. But in general, people are good. We're all here to be happy, to find joy. I find more often than not, people get joy most by bringing joy to others, myself included. Isn't that what it is all about?

If I could teach my daughter just one thing in this life, it would be to find the joy in life, not in possessions. To never let the line between them become gray. Because that is where true happiness lies.