Have Never Been...But Will Always Be...

I have never been the girl that a guy couldn't stop thinking about. I've never been the one with the prettiest hair, or the nicest clothes, or even the best personality. I've never been the subject of a song, or a love letter, or a painting. No one's ever written my name on a notebook over and over. There's never been a guy who thought "Man, if Nicole would just talk to me today...". I have never been the girl that inspired a guy to date someone just to get close to (not that it's right).I have never been the girl that gets nervously asked to prom by a guy who thought he had any chance of getting turned down. I am not the girl that gets elaborate fairy tale proposals, or romantic gestures "just because". I have always been friends, even best friends, with these girls. Because of my proximity, I know these things really do exist. It's not an unrealistic expectation. Did I just want it too much? Did my longing for adoration and affection drive guys away? Just the fact that it's been such a big deal in my life...I guess I must have reeked of desperation. Daddy Issues....Abandonment issues....whatever....

I have never been the girl who could decide she liked a guy and almost guarantee she would have him in no time. I've always been the one that a guy would show interest in only as a means for physical satisfaction. I've never been the girl who could go to the fair, to the circus, to the beach, to an amusement park, or even Pow Wow Days (AV, old school, stay with me), and come home with a phone number or a boyfriend. Any one of my gorgeous, perfect best friends and I could meet two guys. Wouldn't it make sense that we each would have an equal chance? Not so! Let's remember...I have NEVER BEEN that girl. The two guys would then proceed to fight over my friend. She would always have the BURDEN of choosing between the two. This was not one person or one occasion...this was EVERY best friend I had in school...and even after.

I have never been the girl that the guy picks. NEVER. I occasionally am the girl who gets the guy....well....after. After my perfect best friend has moved on to a new guy and I am a convenient way to stay close to her. I have also occasionally been the notch on the bedpost. I know I put myself in that position. I've never been the girl who could say no when it came right down to it...I just wanted to have that experience....even if it was fake. So then I became the girl who had a 24 year old married boyfriend for 2 weeks when she was 14 (he told me I would make someone a good wife someday). I became the girl who dated my best friend's ex even though I knew in my heart he was still desperately in love with her and only did it to make her happy (she couldn't be happy with me alone and depressed, he also thought he could get some).

I became the girl who lost her virginity at 16 to a guy who slept with most of the girls at her high school (and sure he was hot, and beautiful, and perfect, and I really thought I loved him more than anything but we barely had a friendship much less a relationship). I became the girl who slept with a friend the next weekend just to make it all "ok" (he would barely talk to me after that, and made it very clear that, while we were still friends, the sex didn't actually mean we were together). The girl who got drunk and slept or hooked up with guys who could barely remember her the next day, or who thought they were with someone else. The girl who even went back and slept with the original guy, but on her "own terms"...as though that made it okay. Later I would become the girl who would go to her Senior Homecoming dance with a guy who had asked EVERY SINGLE OTHER girl in the group and gotten turned down. The same girl who would go to her Senior Prom -dutch- with a freshman going to spy on a girl he liked who was going with a senior. The self-esteem crushing disaster that was my first boy friend (see: An Epiphany). The traumatic, but self-induced, debacle that was my first marriage.

So I have never been the face that launched a thousand ships, or inspired great sonnets, or even a single secret-admirer note. But man, I sure have always been the girl who could collossally destroy any tiny bit of self-esteem with the next willing guy. And, apparently, I was one heck of an appointment secretary for my perfect, beautiful friends. (Of course, I knew them better than anyone and could tell you...they were FAR from perfect).

I have always been the girl who was good for advice...staying up late and talking on the phone for hours. Good for back rubs in the back of the tour bus on choir trips. I may have even been the girl you could let wear your letterman's jacket home after a competition. But man, the next day in the bright sunlight....forget about it. I was always the "Friend". I was always the funny one. I never got to have the experience dating, or being courted. It was something I so desperately (there's that word again!) but never, ever got. I love my husband. He is a good man, who provides well for us and I have very few complaints. I still feel this emptiness of never experiencing what I always thought should be NORMAL.

So I have never been that girl. But I will always be the WOMAN who takes care of her husband and kids when they are sick. Who cleans up messes some women would never touch. I will always be the woman who is willing to go where I am needed in order to keep her family together and happy. I will do laundry, wash dishes, kill spiders, and drive my husband his office keys in the middle of the night. None of the guys who missed out on the amazing girl I actually was may ever regret not making a go of it with me. But I will always be an amazing woman, and I am trying to work out why I did not get to experience these things in this lifetime. Why I didn't get to have a good relationship with my father. How that negatively affected just about every encounter I had with a man from that point on. How the lack of connection colored my judgements and decisions, and how a lot of what I think I missed really is just fiction and unrealistic expectations. I am proud of who I am NOW as a mom and a wife and a friend.

So...I have never been the object of desire but will always be a daughter of God. And hey, I am okay with that.

revelations and realizations...

It's pretty bizarre when you realize that you're not as significant to someone as you thought you were. I mean, you think you've made a connection, but then when you're out of sight, you're out of mind. I suppose alot of that has to do with the fact that I am never any place for very long. Then again there are one or two individuals who have managed to hang on...people who remember birthdays, anniversarys, or just bother to drop a line.

I am feeling very disconnected. I am missing that feeling I had during residency when I figured out that I am only as insignificant as I make myself. I really wish I could remember what happened in that group session. I know I was close to tears most of that day. Maybe I need to get that low again. Right now I just feel a little numb, and kind of...angry, I guess.

My relationship with my husband is not all wine and roses. Jane and Mr. Rochester we are not. We are actually more like that Austen couple, the silly wife and the grumpy husband (can't remember their names right now). But I am married, mostly happily, and not out there in that dating pool. I guess that makes me immune to or unable to understand how someone my age can just dump their friends because they have found someone new.

Where is all my steam? A few seconds ago I was really ticked and now I just feel empty and sad. And wondering, again, where I went wrong. How I failed. I tried to be a good friend. I did my best to listen and not judge. Now I just feel sort of...impotent? It's like the nightmares I have where I am pouring my heart out and crying and pleading and the object of the effort just yawns and walks away. ugh. Pathetic.

It's official...

Eastern Sierra at Sunset Photo by Ken Babione

Isn't this a gorgeous view? For those of you living here in the Rockies, you may not appreciate it as much as I do. And that is not to say that I don't find the Rockies breathtaking. They are. But they are not home. This view, the one you see right here? This, to me, is HOME. This is the Eastern Sierra (as in Brooke Sierra) and it also shows the Owens Valley (yep, Owen!). Sarah and I spent my first year as a "stay at home mom" here. Bradley was conceived and born here. I can breathe easily here and know exactly where I am.

Lake Sabrina Photo by Ken Babione

When I think about going back to the Eastern Sierra, I choke up. Tears fill my eyes and I yearn for it. Sure, it's a small town. It will likely never get any bigger thanks to the L.A. Department of Water and Power. There is one theater that shows two movies. All the restaurants are mom and pop. Everyone here has known each other's families for generations. The ward always walks the thin line to being a branch. But I love it. I miss it. It's been almost 8 years since we left it. Aaron and I have always said if a chance came up for us to go back we'd do it in a heartbeat.

So, after lo these many months of praying, and fasting, and applying, and calling, and sending resumes and praying and fasting some more-mostly with no results or results ending only in bitter disappointment-the call finally came. And what a call! One of Aaron's good friends who is a chief pilot for the air ambulance company called and said they needed him, like, yesterday. He interviewed with them yesterday and accepted the offer this morning. Pre-employment testing and training to follow.

Oh gosh! Are we really going back to California? SERIOUSLY? Are we going to pay an arm and a leg to register our vehicles? Indeed! Even with all the negatives I am jumping with joy and can hardly keep from shouting: WE ARE GOING BACK TO BISHOP!

I alternate between euphoria and sadness (Aaron has a job! We are going back to Bishop! We will have insurance! I will be just hours from my best friend, my Nonnie, my sister and Jack, my boys, my meg and my deb! Then...I have to move again?!? My kids start school tomorrow! What about Sarah's cheerleading? MY WARD FAMILY!?!? My'lissa! My Rosa! My Tera and Tara! My Cara! My Dawn! My Katie! My Jen! What do I do? My seminary kids! The temple!) And I have to remind myself of the path that brought us here. We have had a sobering year as many of you know. I feel like getting to go back is a reward for being strong and riding the storm, for not despairing (or not dwelling on it at any rate). I look and see the way things have fallen into place over the last week and cannot deny His hand in all things.

I am a pilot's wife. I know this is part of the deal. It looks like the move will take place mid-September unless we can come up with the money for deposits a bit sooner. Brooke and Bradley are all for the adventure. Owen's happy as long as he knows where we all are at any given moment. This is roughest on Sarah who worked so hard to make the cheer squad and get good grades. There is a silver lining though: the squad at Bishop High is losing a girl and will be having try outs about the time we get there. We're already in contact with the coach. It's looking good for her. We're all excited about the move and right now we're just going with the flow-first day of school tomorrow. Apa (my dad) is visiting this week. Aaron should be home tomorrow or the next day and then the cycle begins again...

Jinx

Don't want to jinx anything by talking about it too soon. But I am a bundle of nerves. Just a big,sick,twisted bundle of nerves. My life may change drastically over the next two hours. Better swim before I sink...

Cryptic...more to follow

If your time to you
Is worth savin'
Then you better start swimmin'
Or you'll sink like a stone
For the times they are a-changin'.

My Week...

Adding pictures on here drives me crazy. There has to be a much easier way to do it. I wonder if I add the pictures first and then write around them? Help me fellow bloggers, I need your guidance at this time!

I had a crazy week. This is the first time that I've felt calm enough to even get it into words. I have no doubt that it is thanks to my ward family and to the wonderful spirit present in Sacrament, Gospel Doctrine, and Relief Society on Sunday. Bro. and Sis Wentworth spoke of the blessings related to keeping the Sabbath holy and adhering to the word of wisdom. Owen was amazingly good....come to thing of it, ALL of my kids were amazingly good. Maybe they felt, as I did, the need for renewal. My friends were warm and supportive and always fill my cup rather than emptying it. They don't need anything from me, and still want me around. That sure is nice. :-) So now that I am in a better place, I want to get rid of all the "yuck" and move on.

I finally fell apart this week, got down, saw no light at the end of the tunnel, and cried my little amber-colored eyes out (as an aside, the amber eyes thing may possibly be explained in a later ex-boyfriend rant).

That almost never happens to me. In RS on Sunday we talked about looking at negative circumstances and finding the positive in them. That is TOTALLY me. I am the glass half full girl all the way. In fact, I drive Aaron INSANE with this trait. If we run out of gas? Thank goodness we have friends close by we can rescue us! If traffic slows us down or we are stuck by the train? I am sure there's a reason we are being delayed and our destination will still be there when we get there! I guess after all these months of waiting for something positive to come out of this situation we're in, my heart eventually broke.

My brand new car, MY CAR, my Hyundai that I got for my birthday last year, broke down. It worked fine all weekend....heck it worked fine all that DAY. We've taken immaculate care of it. The service records have been kept to a "t". Then out of nowhere! *poof* bogging, shaking....and then the check engine light popped up. I got my car home and just hoped and prayed that it was a mistake. I turned off the car, restarted it and the bogging and shaking just continued. The check engine light was STILL on. Not to be cliche but it was truly the straw that broke the camel's back. I called Aaron to tell him and I just lost it.

There was no positive in me in that moment. There was no silver lining. All there was was the memory of washing my car on Saturday, wiping it down and vaccuuming it and just praying to Heavenly Father and feeling sure that things would work out and I would be able to keep my car. I felt like if I really tried to keep my things nice that something good would happen and I would be able to keep my car (yes, I know this is bargaining, but I still did it). I spent most of the rest of the night in despair.

Happily, the negative did not cling. Being the white, bright, shiny half of the yin-yang that is my marriage, I spring back pretty easily. By the next morning I remembered that we spent the extra 1200 for the super extra coverage (which we did not need because the factory warranty ended up covering the repair). I finally had the presence of mind to ACT rather than be ACTED UPON. I called the warranty people, I called Hyundai, and I called AAA (my father, for the last 10 years, has included me in his deluxe silver blah blah membership and it is a life saver!) The only little black rain cloud that continued to follow me was the wonderful virus that loves to rear it's ugly little head (literally) when I am stressed. No insurance=$400 prescription. Yeah, no thanks. All hail Abreva and it's ability to make me shiny and new...

In the end, my friend Tim at the Hyundai dealer fixed me up. Bad ignition coil. All better now. I've finally accepted that my car will not be mine for much longer. I can finally see the positive in the whole mess because we were at least prepared for it. I have wonderful friends who go the extra mile to help me (literally, ask Melissa just how MANY extra miles it was). We had some other blessings come this week. Though it was painful, the Landcruiser was sold to a collector and I was able to get a beautiful new van (how much it is actually mine remains to be seen, and may be the subject of a later rant seeing as how I am not allowed to put anything remotely feminine on it...). I was happy to be able to spend lots of time with Melissa and Rosa-something I might not have been able to do if I'd been living my regular, comfy day to day.

I was so grateful for the lessons on Sunday. It was really one of those weeks when I felt that the messages were for me. From the trials of Zion's Camp to President Monson's encouragement to be of good cheer for the future is BRIGHT!

Saturday Night

Lousy Day. Lousy Week. Amazing how the few good things always get buried under the stinking, slimy, rotten garbage.

An Epiphany (may be a little PG-13)

I had an epiphany today while talking to my Bear (Sarah's nickname since she was wee) about love and boyfriends. I heard "Right Here, Right Now" by Jesus Jones on the radio and it took me back. I just knew the moment I said it that i'd have to get it down on (virtual) paper right away. What follows is a story of my youth and my first "real" boyfriend and the first guy who really broke my heart. As always feel free to skip it if it's not your cup o' tea. As a disclaimer, it may be a bit revealing in places, and most of this I did NOT share with my 15 year old... =)

I met Steve when I was 17, barely out of high school. My best friend, Tonya, was crushing on his best friend, Jason. Steve and Jason were "men", both in their 20's and they belonged to the "Seductive" truck club (which is how my bf had met them, she was dating some other truck club guy). Remember those early 90's truck clubs? Ridiculously low trucks you couldn't drive into a driveway without scraping, windows you couldn't see out of, Easter egg colored paint jobs, LOUD stereo systems with the mandatory bass boost button...Geesh. LOL. But I'm getting off track.

Steve was 21 or 22, if I remember correctly, and had married his high school sweetheart when she got pregnant. He had a three year old daughter named Amanda and was recently divorced. He was a carpenter by trade, and was working for a cabinet maker (the smell of wood still reminds me of him, weird how that happens huh?) He drove a burgundy Ford Ranger that was all tricked out and splattered with black paint graphics. He loved going 4x4ing in that thing and his truck club friends called him "Mr. Banzai". He loved Harley Davidsons (they still make me a little weak in the knees) and the Pacific Northwest, especially Tacoma (I always thought it was my love of Queensryche that made me start wanting to live there, but now that I think about it I was planning to live there and make a life with Steve way before I even got into them). He was not good looking. He was tall, and skinny, and pale, and freckled. He had bright blue eyes and curly (yes, curly) red hair. He occasionally wore those bright, obnoxious surfer pants with the elastic waist band. It is not sour grapes, I loved that goofy looking bastard with every fiber of my being.

I think the most significant thing about that relationship was that it was the first time a guy ever pursued me. I wasn't just picking up Tonya's leftovers for a change, or hooking up with a guy who would later tell his friends that he had been so drunk he thought he had been with someone else (as pathetic as it is, that had happened to me TWICE). The four of us had hung out quite a bit right after Tonya and I had graduated and then Steve went on vacation to WA. While he was gone Tonya told me he had asked her all about me and was totally interested, but I was only 17. While he was away, I turned 18. He wrote me a letter from WA-the first, and last, time a guy ever wrote me a letter. He basically said that he was having a blast, but that he missed hanging out with me and wanted to get together when he got back to Cali. Be still my heart, that did it for me and I could not WAIT for him to get home.

I wish I could remember our first kiss. After all that waiting, I am sure it was really something. There are so many other things I remember though. He actually took me out on dates. I know that may sound lame, but I had not really EVER been on an actual date in my life. I'd get dressed up, he'd pick me up, and we would go out. Unreal, right? I remember that we went and saw the 3-D Nightmare on Elm Street and Terminator 2 several times ha ha ha. We (ahem)parked....alot! It was the first time in my life I had ever experienced anything like that...being with a guy who wanted to be with me and not feeling used. My gosh I was so in love with him. And I loved everything about being in love. I pictured us moving to Washington together, raising his little daughter together. But I was only 18...I was supposed to be fun for him, not another potential wife, and definitely not in the running for stepmom. It helped not at all that my mother could not stand him. She said I should not trust a guy who would not come over until after he was sure she was in bed or who expected me to wait up all night just in case he decided to show up.

After a month or so, he started realizing that I was far more into him and the "relationship" than he was and said that we should take it slower. I wasn't having that. I may have been a chubby girl with low self-esteem but I worked every angle I could to keep that boy hooked and coming back. I was so blind that I was in denial about him having this whole other life away from me-work, his ex, his daughter, other friends...he broke up with me in the fall and I still wouldn't give up. We had decided to still be friends and I got invited to his birthday party. I showed up looking fierce and pretty much told him that I was his, no strings attached, whenever he wanted. This was quite a few years before the phrase "booty call" entered the vernacular. Yet there I was, so desperate to be near him that I was willing to sacrifice my own feelings. Of course he took advantage of that, what guy wouldn't?

So that whole fall I went to school (community college) and I lived in denial, and he strung me along, but I saw less and less of him. As much as I remember of him-the smell of his detergent, the feeling of being in the cab of his truck parked in the desert late at night, listening to Jesus Jones, Marky Mark and Warrant, I most vividly remember the day he broke up with me...for good. See, while I was pretending it was okay to be with him, he was falling in love with someone else. A girl he had graduated with, someone he had known for years, someone his own age.

I think her name was Shonna, or Shawna, or whatever. I had never even heard her name before that day. He and I were hanging out in my bedroom (okay it was a little more TV-MA than just hanging out) and Tonya showed up at my place. Having been interrupted, Steve decided to take off and she whispered to me "just watch yourself, there's something going on you don't know about". I had no idea what she even meant, I mean after all, I was quite happy in my little la la land, thinking he'd eventually come around and decide he loved me. Later that evening he called me and we were talking about how we'd been interrupted and I invited him back over. He said he didn't think it would be a good idea. Out of nowhere he starts talking about how he had spent the rest of the day with this girl, Shawna, and how awesome she was and how she was coaching the girl's flag team at their old high school and blah blah blah. I am not sure at what point I figured out that he was ending it, but once I hung up that phone, I knew that he had moved on and that it was over...

I stayed friends with Jason though and he eventually fell for my beautiful cousin Yvette so we actually hung out a lot. He and Tonya had never really worked out... I heard alot about Steve second hand from Jason. The worst thing was when he told me that Steve and Shawna were going to be married. I don't think I had ever cried so hard in my life. You know that part of New Moon, when Bella describes the hole in her chest? How it festered and ached and burned around the edges? The reason I cry every time I read that part is because of this memory. I felt sorrow to the very depths of my 18 year old soul. I remember laying on my mother's bed, sobbing, and realizing that he HAD wanted to be married, he just didn't want to be married to ME. I was really destroyed. I don't think I honestly, truly, loved anyone like that again until I met Aaron-and by then I was a totally different person.

So what I realized was that there was nothing wrong with him wanting to move on and get married or even wanting just to be with a woman his own age. I was only 18 for pete's sake and barely that! He had a kid and a job and a million responsibilities. Would I not have been just another person to take care of? I completely lost myself in him and relied on him totally and that must have really been frightening to him. So I have come to a place in my life where I have been able to accept that though Steve truly broke my heart, I gave him my heart to break. I was just as responsible for it if not more because I gave him everything. So from the bottom of my once broken heart, I forgive Steve and will try to only remember the fun times we had and those nights when he looked at me like I was the only person in the room and stayed up all night talking to me. I am the person I am today because of my experiences and I wouldn't want to give them up.

If I could go back I would only wish that I had had an understanding of my value as a daughter of God. I hope that with that knowledge I would have made better choices for myself...been stronger and expected better. I hope that the knowledge I've gained from these experiences will help me to advise my own children when the time comes. If you've stayed with this rant this long I truly appreciate it! Hope my bit of cathartic blogging has inspired or entertained you in some way!