Category: Friendships

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09. First Love


“if you will think back of your first love, you will for sure remember a lot of great LITTLE things that will bring so much happiness in you” – Naya River

As I mentioned briefly before, I fell into that 1% of patients who would end up needing a repeat surgery on my knees. Ironically, my physical therapist after my car accident (we’ll get to that…) also fell into that one percent and her birthday was the day after mine! This surgery took place during the summer before my junior year. I had already been having undiagnosed autonomic dysfunction for months but everything amplified to the max after that surgery. My body was in it’s own storm of chaos. 

It was weeks after this surgery that my high school sweetheart and I broke up. Again. No it wasn’t the first time and it wasn’t the last, but it was the beginning of the end. Mind you, he was with me during that surgery – waited with my parents – and was the first one I saw in recovery. He was more than just my boyfriend, he was truly my best friend and had been for years. He had been my rock and the one consistent thing in my life while everything else flipped upside down. The heartbreak from that breakup was beyond shattering. It felt as though I lost a part of my own soul. I was already broken, but it was then that I knew nothing would ever be the same. And it hasn’t.

I have to be honest and say that the thought of going into detail about this relationship makes me wanna throw up. It would be fair to say that my anxiety is off the charts. One, because of how much Kevin meant to me for so long, but also because I don’t want to hurt my husband. I might say/word some things in a way that he may not understand and I fear he might take them the wrong way. However, this is my truth; I will do my best to stay authentic while also respecting Igor’s feelings. I apologize now, babe, if you are hurt in any way!! Please know this was never my intention!

Fahhhh… 

First let me just preface this and thank C.M. Stunich for writing H.A.V.O.C.; it has allowed me to better understand and accept that you can absolutely still love your “first love” while also loving your husband. It may be fiction but it definitely rings true in my heart; and while the following is also fictional, I think what Helen tells Tyler in Sweet Magnolias about first loves, accurately and beautifully sums it up.
“You let them into your heart to whatever degree, that leaves a mark – forever. The people we love first, maybe even before we fully know what it means to be loved, they’re with us from that day forward… and even when you try not to, you measure every person who comes after them against them. So I try to be grateful for what that person taught me about the world and about myself. But not let remembering the first keep me from seeing the next as the… completely unique and utterly marvelous… person they may be.”
^ – I’ve >ALWAYS< said that once you love someone, you’ll always love them – just differently. 

Okay… Kev and I met in elementary school, living 8 houses down from one another. He was a year ahead of me and his brother was a year behind. I ended up becoming good friends with his brother first, strangely enough. I would even go as far to say that I considered him a best friend at one point. I think back to those days and just laugh. I don’t know how or why but the big baggy “MC Hammer” pants were definitely a thing, though being a late 80’s child when I saw Kevin in his baggy pants, all I saw was Aladdin. Ha, ha. Oh the innocence of an 8 year old.

By 6th grade, you know having already.. [blossomed],  I was definitely noticed and receiving attention. I went through so many “boyfriends” in middle school it’s actually humorous to think about. However, I only wanted the attention of one boy – and in 7th grade that wish came true. One day after getting off the bus I was handed a note. Trying to stay cool and hide my fluttering butterflies I waited until I was home to read it. [Notes kind of became our thing for the next 4-5 years and I still have a box of them at my mother’s because I just couldn’t part with them.] That first note expressed his feelings for me and I about died inside. The next few notes, after explaining my shared feelings, were about how much he wanted to make sure he got good grades on his report card so that he could prove that he was responsible enough to have a girlfriend while still taking school and extracurriculars seriously. Then, in November of 2000 I officially became Kevin’s first girlfriend. But you see, we still had to keep it hush as he didn’t want his friends giving him a hard time for dating a [7th grader.] <- Damn girl, where was your self respect? Then, after a few short months he ended things without giving any reason. His brother told me it was because he was embarrassed and didn’t like getting a hard time from his friends. Fk you middle school peer-pressure! But, the notes started up again because he was like a moth to a flame; he couldn’t stay away. At first it was just platonic but obviously that didn’t last. We got back together only for my heart to be ripped out mid summer. Again.

About a month later I was at the local bowling alley for what they called, “Rock’n Bowl”. It was this glow bowling thing they put on for younger teens/tweens. I was with my ever so pushy best friend and she insistently dared me to kiss this boy in the lane next to us, who had been flirting with me all night. I was too chicken shit but between Jessie and his friends, it happened. Kevin, who? Hi, meet Roth. Roth had actually just started working at the skatin’ rink that I just so happened to frequent. It didn’t take long until he asked me out and I accepted. He was the first boy to ever buy me flowers (a dozen red roses for Sweetest Day) just a few short weeks after we started dating. I really cared for Roth but I always kept him at arm’s length because deep down my heart was always Kevin’s. We were together for a little over 6 months and shared “I love yous”. Did I really love him? I don’t know. At the time I sure probably thought so but I also didn’t really understand love. So yes, I’d say I did love him for what I thought/knew love to be at the time. Like I said, I did really care for him and had feelings for him (that whole once you love someone, you always love them kind of thing) for a couple years after we broke up. It took some time but after a few months we were able to be friends again and he was actually my date to my first Homecoming dance, freshman year. He wanted to get back together but I wasn’t interested. I was over boys breaking my heart..

Oh did Kevin hate Roth and vice versa. After Roth and I broke up, Kev and I started “talking” again. Damn flame and lack of self respect. LOL. No, this time I wasn’t letting myself get close enough to allow him to hurt me again. But, he was my best friend and we talked all the time. He pined over me all of my freshman year and I probably took advantage of it. Maybe unconscious revenge? Idk. I’d flirt with him and Roth and whoever else, really. Heck, on the 3rd day of school in 9th grade I made out with a guy named Christopher on the bus. Never met him before that day and our relationship was over before it began. He too pined over me and I probably took advantage of that as well. My mother really cared for Chris even though we were only friends at the time. Those 3 boys wanted my attention and fought each other for it. Not physically but definitely verbally trying to assert their claim for Alpha. Unfortunately for them, my attention lied elsewhere.

I had caught the eye of someone… a bit older; let’s call him Beau. See what I did there? Cheesy puns for days. It’s alright not to laugh, I’m ok with being my only fan. 😉 Alright, moving on, Beau was a manager at the rink and I had known him for a few years as an acquaintance. His sister kind of took me under her wing as a big sister/little sister when Lauren and I were up at the rink all the time in elementary school for her brother’s hockey practice/games. It was actually Beau’s younger brother that I crushed on haaarrd at first, but as did everyone else. The kid was very attractive! Being 5 ½ years older, Beau didn’t initiate anything at first, buuut I made it difficult for him not to. My bad. 

Uh, WAIT! – Yes technically I was ‘jailbait’ but I can honestly (without crossing my fingers) say that nothing R-rated happened between us until I was 17, just a few weeks shy of 18, nearly 4 years after we first started “talking.” We were basically just casually dating whenever I wasn’t in a relationship {aka whenever Kevin and I were on a break} for the next 4 years. He genuinely looked out for me and definitely let me know when he felt I was making wrong choices, almost like an older brother? at times. Except I fell in love at one point. Stupid girl!! No, I know that Beau loved me back but everything was just so complicated given the age difference and the different dynamics of our relationship that we never actually gave our relationship a fair chance. Plus, after we first kissed I realized how much of a mistake it was after my honesty left more heartache in its wake. 

You see, Kevin and I were hanging out a lot more at the end of my 9th grade year and that summer before 10th. We even officially shared our first kiss that summer. <3 First loves, man, let me tell ya! I remember that first kiss, as well as the first kiss once we were officially back together… and because I remember everything I even actually remember our last. Weird. Anywho – that summer was also the summer that Beau and I shared our first kiss. The mistake that led to heartache. 

I thought I was doing the right thing by being honest and telling Kevin what had happened. Apparently not because he was so hurt and angry that he wouldn’t talk to me for like 2 months. To go from talking literally every day to nothing, I was lost. Hurt. Confused. Angry. Heartbroken. Even though I was utterly head-over-heels in love with Kevin, I was more hurt over not having my best friend. Over knowing that I hurt him, while adding one more guy for him to hate. Though, once again, I received a note asking to talk after school. That talk happened on my front porch and ended with us officially getting back together. [That second ‘first kiss’ happened right then and there.] 

Ohhhhh the feels. As I type this I can literally feel what I felt during all of this. My chest is tight, my tummy is fluttering, I can barely catch my breath. Yeah, being an Empath is hard, I don’t recommend it!

We’ll come back to Kevin later… ::Pushes feelings away::

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08. Auntie

“An aunt is a safe haven for a child. someone who will keep your secrets and is always on your side” – Sara sheridan

So I’ve mentioned Auntie a couple of times but I haven’t touched on our relationship. Where do I even begin? I mean, it’s definitely safe to say that a part of the woman I’ve become is from what I’ve learned from her!

Back in 2018 she had a stroke that left her needing to live in a nursing home. Prior to the stroke she was likely in the very early stages of Dementia, which then the stroke caused rapid progression. At the time, we didn’t know how things were going to play out so as morbid as it may be, I had already written the bulk of her eulogy. I knew that when the time did officially come I would not be in a clear enough mindset to adequately put words together. So full disclosure, a good chunk of what I am about to share is copied and pasted…

It’s no secret how close we were. Whether it was a conscious effort or simply because she didn’t know any other way, anyone who crossed paths with Aunt Mary Lou knew my name – she made sure of it. For nearly 15 years I spent just about every weekend with her, as well as half of every summer. She made sure that my childhood was majestic- filled with an abundance of fun and adventure. She called me daily before school, and again the minute I got home. We shared everything from secrets and laughter, to plenty of arguments.

With her birthday being the end of August and school often starting on the 26th with a half day, she’d pick me up and we’d go out to lunch, Bill Knapps, naturally. Hello? Free cake! But of course Bill Knapps is just one restaurant that comes to mind when I think of her. There’s also: Breakfast at Denny’s, Lunch at Red Robin, Dinner at Sign of the Beef Carver (or “Beef Eater,” as we called it), and then New Year’s Eve at Red Lobster with shrimp cocktails and Shirley temples. Summers were spent at carnivals and pool side, enjoying freshly cut cantaloupe. I loved growing up at the pool, and knowing that tradition will live on with my kids, with their Papa and Gampy, makes my heart smile.

Just like any kid approaching their teenage years, I wanted to spend more time with my friends, and for me, that meant the skating rink and chatting online. When I was entranced on the computer chatting away, she was perfectly content just sitting quietly in the same room as me. And until I was old enough to stay out on my own, every Friday night, Auntie would show up to the roller rink and sit on a bench for 2 hours, just so I could continue hanging out.

When she was 70 she took me to Disney World and on a cruise for my 13th birthday. She loved to share that story, so it’s a worthy mention. We went to all 4 parks and downtown, just the 2 of us. We saw it all, whether she was walking, I was pushing her in a wheelchair, or even her failed attempt at using the electric scooter. Poor kids sure needed earmuffs that day… but the thing that stands out most, at 70 years old, this woman went on their thrill rides with me: Rock ‘n’ Roller Coaster, The Twilight Zone Tower of Terror, Fast Track, Thunder, Splash and Space Mountains. I have absolutely no idea how she pulled that off, especially with her fear of heights, but I’ll never forget it!

Obviously I would be here all day if I tried to recite all of my memories of our time together, because the memories are endless. Growing up she was my best friend, and I, according to her, “the love of her life.”

Auntie had an incredibly generous nature, and was always willing to give; especially when it came to family, which was so important to her. And because family was so important, I grew up knowing family I may not have known otherwise. Financially she supported me, as well as numerous other nieces and nephews, particularly when it came to our wardrobes. Any time I brought a friend with me for a sleepover, she went above and beyond. In fact, she was so good to my friends that when she broke her hip, they all wrote her “get well” letters that I combined into a folder for her, which she’s actually held onto all these years.

If I needed anything, she made sure I had it, and when I didn’t need something, she still made sure I had it. As I got older I may not have shown my appreciation as much, especially when she boasted about it, but I sincerely never took it for granted! I knew then, and will continue to know, just how fortunate I have always been!  And, while the obsessive phone calls in her later years may have brought some annoyance, I can tell you first hand that when the phone calls stop, it’s the first thing that you notice, and start to miss. March 21st, 2018 was the last time she was able to call me, I didn’t answer. And that is a regret that’ll always haunt me, but it’s also a reminder to not take anything for granted, even the day to day nuisances. However, due to Covid-19 and the banning of visitors at her nursing home, I was fortunate enough to start virtual weekly video calls during the summer of 2020 until her passing Nov. 21, 2021. I am also eternally grateful that I was able to sit with her, holding her hand, just days before her passing. 

Now, she wasn’t a saint, that’s for sure. As a young child I never really thought about why Uncle Mac didn’t live there with her, until I was old enough to realize that he lived at home, with his wife. I know that their relationship wasn’t [right], but you cannot deny the love they had for each other for over 35 years! I don’t doubt that he loved his wife, too (who knew of ML), but I understand it was complicated. He came from money and a higher status in society. Unfortunately he passed back in ‘03 and my aunt had to find out via an online obituary. Talk about heartbreaking!

She loved control and knew her way around manipulation. I know she meant well, but it still sucks looking back. Sometime before he passed, Uncle Mac gave Auntie money to put aside for me for my first car. When I turned 16 I was surprised with said car, only to find out I couldn’t have it yet. My aunt had a hard time believing I was sick, how could I be? I’m perfect. Ha, right… anyway, she thought I was just being the slack-off-teenager most in my family grew to be, that I wasn’t attending school because of that. So, she gave me a keychain and a letter the evening of my birthday, while we were sitting in my car, explaining that once I made it to school for 4 weeks straight, I could receive the keys to put on that keychain. Um, those 4 weeks never happened and after a few months I finally got my car. Again, I know she meant well but definitely went about it the wrong way.

Mary Lou Wiltse 8.26.30 – 11.21.21

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06. High School/Diagnosis

“I don’t want my pain and struggle to make me a victim. I want my battle to make me someone else’s hero.” — Unknown

Bring on high school! Starting my freshman year we had three, yes 3, high schools on one campus (4 buildings in all) and we had classes in all three schools. You were assigned a “home” school in which your locker would be, where you’d play sports for and graduate from. If you were fortunate enough to have time to use your locker, seeing your counselor could have been the only time you’d even enter your “home” school. I went to Salem but one semester I didn’t have a single class there! It’s nuts. They call it an Educational Park, but in reality it’s a small college campus for teenagers. In retrospect it’s smart because certain elective courses are only offered in certain schools, so they don’t need multiple teachers teaching the same thing throughout the district. But having only 10 minutes to get from one corner of one school to the farthest corner of another, makes for an exhausting day going back and forth between classes! There is no [break]… it would wear anyone down, but especially someone already battling extreme fatigue.

By mid-semester I had become full blown lethargic and negative mono test after negative mono test left nearly everyone calling me lazy and depressed to the 90th degree. With the help of a note from my orthopedic surgeon I was able to get out of running in gym class, but unfortunately my absences and doctor’s notes didn’t help me for swimming and I failed half the semester. Such a confidence boost, let me tell ya!

By the end of freshman year I was starting to do better and tried out for the Cheer Team: GO ROCKS! After having to give up dance, cheerleading became my love. I was so powerful and strong that I quickly became main base. I was determined to succeed and my team nickname was: “Miss Powerhouse.” Unfortunately, being a base leaves you open to getting kicked in the head by your flyer, resulting in a sprained neck. 

That sprain changed everything!    –

The trauma my body experienced triggered a response within my autonomic nervous system that would influence the rest of my life.  Remember the pneumonia I had when I was six and all the fevers with extreme growing pains? That goes with this, as do the mysterious stretch marks and migraines… I have Ehlers Danlos Syndrome, an autosomal dominant genetic condition that affects my connective tissue supporting my skin, bones, blood vessels and many other organs. If it wasn’t for that sprained neck and what followed, who knows how old I would have been when I found out. Secondary to EDS, I have Dysautonomia – an umbrella term used to describe the dysfunction of the autonomic nervous system. The autonomic nervous system is what controls everything your body does without your thinking, ie: breathing, heart rate, blood pressure, digestion, ect. 

There is no way to say with 100% certainty, however it is believed that the pneumonia triggered me to develop a mild form of Dysautonomia, hence the inability to regulate my temperature. Then with puberty, the migraines and extreme fatigue. However, it wasn’t until after spraining my neck did things go downhill fast. I started passing out and blacking out left and right. I developed tachycardia and palpitations with plummeting blood pressure. Fatigue to the point I can only describe as sleep comas. Dangerously low blood sugar and drastic weight fluctuations; we’re talking losing 25lbs in 2 weeks and gaining 50lbs back 2 weeks later! I was getting winded just talking let alone walking. I was in literal Hell!

Doctor after doctor, test after test – I was left without answers, suffering, because you know… “depression”. Not only was my health suffering but so was my social life. I had to quit the Cheer team letting everyone down just weeks before regionals. My pediatrician; the only doctor on my side doing everything she could, very bluntly told me that I must step back if I wanted to survive to regionals. I had no answers from “specialists” and she was genuinely scared for me…

Now, I’m sure you can imagine how that betrayal to my team ended. All of my so-called [friends] were now shunning me. Instead of worrying for my well being, in true stereotypical high school cheerleading fashion, the squad was more important than anything and I was now an outsider. However, the good thing about going to school with SO many kids (6,000+), is that while there were cliques and groups of friends, there were entirely way too many for the standard “cliques” and I wasn’t left completely alone. None of my best friends were on the team and my boyfriend was a star basketball player for a rival team/school.

As time went on I only got sicker and lost my friends because they didn’t understand. They were in HS, a time for fun – not to be tied back with a sick friend. My boyfriend’s family felt my health was too serious of an issue; they didn’t want me holding him back and we eventually broke up. I missed so much school it’s a wonder my mom wasn’t served papers! By mid-junior year I was homebound and school consisted of independent work and a weekly visit from the district’s homebound teacher. But you see, the problem with homebound schooling is that I was only allowed one credit a semester instead of the traditional three. So not only did I have to deal with being sick with a mysterious illness, loss of my friends and boyfriend, having a teacher stage an in class intervention accusing me of an eating disorder (when I lost all that weight so quickly) and another teacher literally talking bad about me (belittling and making fun of the situation to the class in my absence), I had to do school from home only to not be able to graduate on time even though I had a 3.6 G.P.A. 

In May of that year I ended up going to the Mayo Clinic in Minnesota. Mayo is a nonprofit American academic medical center focused on integrated health care, education, and research. It is one of the leading diagnostic hospitals in the world and I spent over a week there on my first visit. 

Random fun facts: My great uncle, Dr. Arnold Kadish, used to work at Mayo and it’s rumored that he dated, possibly was even engaged at one point, to one of the founder’s daughters. Arnold also invented the first diabetic insulin pump in 1963!

While at Mayo they put you through the ringer with test after test, more in depth than ever before. It was there that I was finally diagnosed with the previously mentioned Ehlers Danlos Syndrome and Dysautonomia. During my first visit I didn’t qualify for an official diagnosis for P.O.T.S. – Postural Orthostatic Tachycardia Syndrome but I was treated as though I did. In order to get an [official] diagnosis my heart rate needed to jump 30 bpm upon standing and mine only went 28. Medical logistics are ridiculous sometimes but I was officially diagnosed 20 months later at my second visit. Prior to Mayo, I was diagnosed with Hashimoto’s Thyroid disease at 15, Fibromialgia (which Mayo ruled out and changed the diagnosis to EDS), Sports Asthma (which was also ruled out, turns out that because of the EDS causing blood pooling, I get pooling in my lungs which makes it difficult to breathe.), and any psychological issues in question were found to be completely normal given all of the stress I had been under!!!

FINALLY some answers and validation. Some…

I ended up [dropping out] senior year. And by dropping out I mean I was essentially kicked out. I even tried summer school to catch up but they made it impossible. So, I made the gut wrenching decision to get my GED, but in order to do so before my class had graduated I needed someone from the HS to sign off. It was impossible to get an appointment with the principal and everyone else we tired meeting with said they weren’t authorized to do so. We ended up going straight to the principal’s office where of course his secretary told us he was unavailable. Shortly after she said that he started to walk out of his office and we asked if we could speak to him. He told us he was on his way to a meeting and to schedule something with his secretary. Of course. My friend Jessie was with us and while she may be tiny, she sure is mighty! She used her sass, politely – but direct – and convinced him to give us three minutes, just enough time to sign off on my early GED slip.

Here’s the kicker, he had zero idea who I was or what I had been dealing with. All of these school administration meetings over the past four years, not once was he filled in. WTF?!! He could not believe the way his staff had treated me and handled my case. He ended up having his secretary cancel his meeting so that he could get more detailed information from us. Without any hesitation he signed my slip and even made sure that my official record didn’t say that I was a “drop out”. Instead, he wrote that I was [transfering] and that I was continuing my education at the local community college where I was getting my GED. He apologized on behalf of his staff and wanted to assure that I still had some dignity. 

Having to get my GED sucked, but I kicked that test’s ASS and all of my scores were in the 90th+ percentiles! What made the situation suck a little less is that I technically started college early. Silver lining?

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05. Middle School

“If it doesn’t challenge you, it won’t change you.” – Fred Devito


Middle school… bloody hell it sucked. Who’s idea was it to throw together a bunch of new students who never met one another, during the most awkward years of adolescence?  Don’t get me wrong, I fully agree that the age range needs to be seperated from elementary and high school – but damn. [Un]luckily for me, I got to experience the wonderful awkwardness twice as our school district did boundary changes after my first year.

[Thanks] to starting puberty so young, by 6th grade my breasts were a full 32C. At the expense of sounding narcissistic, with breasts like that and my looks… It’s no surprise I quickly found myself amongst the popular crowd. However, after the boundary change tables quickly turned. Of the five middle schools in the district, just one housed not only the neuro-typical students, but also the “talented and gifted” aka honors students, as well as all of the special needs/ nonneuro-typical (neurodivergent); mine. When the boundaries were redistricted only a quarter of the original students remained at my middle school. Being that it was home to the TAG program and the special education department, it doesn’t take a math wiz to figure out that of the 25% of students that remained – only a sliver were the original Average Joes. That being said, the new 75% of students all came from the same school and most of them had been together ever since elementary. Their pre-formed “cliques” took over. Initially I got along with everyone, of course that only lasted until I started dating a guy that one of the new popular girls had her eyes on.

I am telling you, girls are caddy. We’re downright bitches. Overnight the name calling and bullying began. Aside from kissing, I was essentially a “prude” in comparison to the other girls. I was a flirt and kissed, well, anyone, but never took it farther than that until I was nearly 16 and in a committed, head over heels, deeply in love relationship. And yet, I was somehow the whore? Though I suppose it didn’t help that it had gotten out that I was on birth-control. Nevermind the major detail that it was medically necessary. No, to 13 year olds it was all about sex. Not only were my migraines getting worse, particularly during that time of the month, my periods were so erratic and horrific. I managed the best I could and held off hormonal intervention as long as possible. Then the ovarian cysts started. It only took one rupture to change mine and my parent’s minds. And to think, I thought that was the worst pain I’d ever endure. [I shake my head at naive, young Jena.]

Good ol’ B.C. Between the pill and anti-psychotic drugs for my migraines – I gained weight. I went from a 1/3 in 6th grade to a size 9/11 by the end of 8th. The crazy thing though is I wasn’t “fat”, I didn’t look my size! I didn’t weigh what you’d expect someone wearing a 9/11 to weigh. Not that I shared my size (because let’s be real, that’s just asking for it at that age) no one believed me when I told them. Even my doctors were baffled. I literally weigh more now and am a size 4/6 (27/28) at the same height. The only thing that was noticeable was my puffy face.  Sooo… we chalked it up to water retention and underactive thyroid.

We didn’t know the cause then, but I had what my mother referred to as “sausage” skin. It’d look like red veins spidering out everywhere, like raw sausage. And prior to the weight gain I developed stretch marks. Yes, PRIOR! I was a size zero when they first started to develop. They appeared in random places, too, like my ankles. The breasts I understand, but my shins and ankles? What?! Even weider, it wasn’t during a growth spurt. They literally started appearing overnight! I kid you not – I am a roadmap of faded stretch marks from my waist to my ankles. Hips, butt, thighs, calves, behind the knees – nothing has been spared. I even have a small rainbow on my lower back (just above my butt), rings around my belly button and upper arms. Yet, ironically I didn’t get a single new stretch mark during my pregnancies. I have slowly learned to accept my lines, though what I struggle with and probably always will is the loose baggy skin they caused. If it was just a “mom pouch” I’d eventually get over it (I mean I did finally wear a 2 piece bathing suit in public 3 years after my oldest was born)… but it’s not just the pouch, that’s actually the least of my issues. It’s my legs. Barf!

As I sit here writing, I think I just realized why my legs being as grotesque as they are, weighs so heavily on my self-image. My sausage skin and bright purple stretch marks were just another excuse to bully me. The harsh truth is that stretch marks are associated with heavier people, outside of pregnancy. So even though I developed them while still [thin] – the fact that I did gain some weight gave my new frenemies their best material. I think my favorite was being “moo”ed at. Very original. I feel as though I need to include a photo of myself during this time so you can see how pathetic kids can be. If they were mooing at me, my heart breaks for anyone dealing with weight issues and bullies! I wasn’t even ‘overweight’ and the psychological trauma of being made to believe I was, affects me still today.

I still don’t understand how I can go from being so “popular” to a social pariah in such a short time! I had plenty of friends who were older and at different schools, but at my own school, by 8th grade things had gotten so bad that I got permission and switched to 7th grade lunch to be with my best friend.

Yeah, adolescents are assholes…

With everything that was going on in my social life, which at 14 is essentially everything, it’s not a shock that I’d begin dealing with some depression. Unfortunately, over the next few years that is all doctors would see. They blamed all of my symptoms on either depression, psychological, ie: all in my head, or I was making it up. Aside from my pediatrician, who I absolutely loved and appreciated beyond words, I was not taken seriously. As a patient it sucks! You don’t understand how they can’t believe you. But at the same time, when someone hands you a sheet of notebook paper filled with symptoms spanning from every one of the body’s systems… I can see where it’s hard to take it seriously. Especially when doctors are told to think of horses when they hear hooves. Having any illness blows. Having an invisible illness is worse, add to that one that is rare, plus a few that aren’t as rare but rarely heard of… atrocious!

Anyway, 8th grade was a pivotal point in my life not only socially and academically, but as well as my health. I started getting hit with bouts of extreme fatigue. Before you go there, yes, I do know that it is a tell-tale sign of depression, and no, it didn’t help my case. The thing of it is, these bouts didn’t last long and were infrequent… until I had knee surgery.

My knees had always bothered me but they started to get increasingly worse at the speed of light. In the fall of my 8th grade year I had to make the difficult decision to stop dancing, something I once loved more than anything. By spring break, I had bi-lateral arthroscopic knee surgery to remove scarred synovial tissue (plica) as it was putting pressure on my bones and flattening my meniscus’. Surgery went off without a hitch, I didn’t need physical therapy and actually grew over an inch that following summer (it was previously stated I was done growing.) I was even told there was only a ONE percent chance I’d need the surgery again and that in the surgeon’s 30+ some years he’d only done repeat surgery for this 5 times. Outlook was promising. Until of course 2 years later when I fell into that one percent and needed repeat surgery.

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02. Dad

“A father is a son’s first hero and a daughter’s first love.”
– unknown

You see, I had to grow up very fast. My parents separated when I was three due to my father’s inability to break up with alcohol. I remember the separation, talking to the court, the battles between my mother and great aunt and what it was like to see my father again after months of being apart while he tried to get his sobriety in check.

That memory of reuniting is my truest happiest early memory! My mother’s step-mom, Grandma Ina (may she rest peacefully) made it happen. She was an incredible woman and I will always be thankful for the seven years I knew her! When we arrived at my great aunt Mary Lou’s, whom from here on out will be referred to as simply, “Auntie”, it was like every kid’s dream come true. Presents stacked from floor to ceiling in every holiday wrapping that we missed dad. We even had both Christmas stockings and Easter baskets with Valentine treats to boot. Purely magical in the eyes of a child. Hell, even as an adult who wouldn’t love a scene like that? The Valentine treats being the most symbolic because as of February 14th, just before my fourth birthday, my father stuck to his sobriety and hasn’t looked back!

Other memorable early memories with my daddy include: Friday nights, fish sticks with macaroni for dinner, watching Full House and playing games, particularly barbies, on the kitchen floor. Odd as it may seem, playing on the kitchen floor became “our thing” for years to come.

With sobriety came truths, secrets and personal turmoil. For the first time my father had to face who he was, what he was and what it’d mean going forward. Remember how I mentioned that my father was raised Catholic? We’re talking about five siblings, private school and a mother who worked for the church kind of Catholic. Irony there is that dad and his siblings all struggled with substance abuse and addictions. So much so that out of all the “kids” in my generation on that side – I can confidently say that I am one of, if not the only one, who hasn’t had a substance abuse issue! Unfortunately history repeats itself, passed down by generations. I actually had a cousin who was so caught up down the wrong path that he was wrongfully executed by the state of Texas. That’s right, the asshole known as Rick Perry allowed an innocent man to be put to death. By the sound of those crickets instead of gasps, this news clearly isn’t a shock… Texas has the Law of Parties, which allows someone to be held criminally responsible for the actions of another. Steven Michael Woods Jr. was murdered by a wrongful justice system – while the real criminal (who pled guilty and ALL physical evidence points to) sits in jail for life. The most fucked up part is that Rick Perry had to give the final “okay” just 15 minutes prior, knowing Steven was, for all intents and purposes, innocent of a crime that would warrant death. Perry then went on record just weeks after bragging about his number of executions. ASS-hole!

Just a few short months after working the program, Dad met Brian. Anyone who knows anything about the program knows that you should wait at least one year before starting a new relationship. Yes, you read that right; Dad and Brian started a relationship. Not only was my dad battling for sobriety, but also the truth in the fact that he is gay. I honestly believe if it wasn’t for Brian, my dad may not be where he is today. They were the best thing for each other at such a pivotal point in my dad’s life! [Thank you, Brian, for not only helping my dad, but also for being a decent step-mother… even if you did tie us up that one time while watching us. 😉 ]

Obviously these new revelations spiraled confusion for everyone involved and everyone dealt with it differently. It took some time, but finally everyone came around with acceptance. In fact, my parents are the best of friends, they talk almost every day and we celebrate holidays as one big family. Brian and mom get along great. You’d never know there was a time when things weren’t so great… but there definitely was. I’m not sure when Jack found out about Dad, but I was nine.  Jack had a very difficult time with friends for various reasons, but having a gay father didnt help during a time with less acceptance and when HIV/AIDS was on the rise. Dad didn’t want me to face the same hardships, wanted to protect his Princess from prejudice. As I was getting older Mom tried convincing him to fill me in – but it was too late. I found out during a fight with my life-long friend [shout out to my Lori-Lou Sissy Poo]. Lauren and I fought like sisters. The two most memorable being when she threw a handful of panty liners at me, while simultaneously yelling at me to, “eat pads!” and the other was when she yelled, “at least my dad isnt gay!”
My brother and Lauren’s brother were in boy scouts together and our mothers became instant friends. Every morning before school, for 6 years, Lauren would be dropped off at my house roughly two hours early while her mother went to work. I was usually still asleep and would wake up to either A) Lauren playing, B) a clean room that wasn’t clean the night before (having an organized clean freak for a faux sister had its perks), and more often than I would have liked, C) a sneaky little blond trying to glance at my latest diary entries. Talk about invasion and lack of privacy! Usually I wasn’t mortified, however once when we were seven, the last thing I wanted her to discover was sprawled right across the page: “Mrs. Jena Martin. Mrs. Ricky Martin” … her brother’s name is Ricky…

Yes, Ricky Martin.
No, not the singer.

As I’ve mentioned, we fought like sisters. Over everything. One morning a fight broke out revolving around my dollhouse. This was not new territory, however the following was. I’m not sure exactly what was said leading up to it, but I’ll never forget these few lines:

Bratty Jena: “at least my dad’s not fat!” (Sorry Rick!!!)
Upset Lauren: “well at least my dad isn’t gay!”
Shocked Jena: “my dad’s not gay!”
Confident Lauren: “uh-huh! I heard Mom and Ricky talking about it!”
[Confused, angry Jena runs upstairs and sits on sleeping mother’s bed]
“MOM lauren just said Dad is gay!”
[Half asleep Mom yelling, “oh shit” inside her head]
“What?”
J: “he isn’t gay, right Mom?!”
M: “Lauren, go watch T.v.” 
[Pause that lasted an eternity]
J: “Mom?”
M: “I think that’s something you need to talk to Dad about.”

I didn’t. And it wasn’t until a few weeks later that my dad sat me down and told me what I had already come to realize as true. He is gay and him and Brian aren’t “just roommates”.

Funny story… I had known Brian was gay for at least 3 years – never thought anything of it. Never made the connection. Though, it all made sense then why Dad slept in what I thought was Brian’s room (which was really their guest room) any time Jack and I were over, why we celebrated so many things with Brian’s family. Ah yes, explains a lot. I had found out Brian was gay when I discovered his male calender. At the time he told me it was his former ::coughpartnercough:: roommate’s. I mentioned it to Jack and he told me it was Brian’s. When I asked if he was gay, Jack came right out and said, “yes.” Surprisingly enough, Jack didn’t mention anything about Dad. My guess is because he was protecting me as well… I was only five or six. But don’t you think if I knew what gay was at five, I would have been filled in? That’s what I thought at least when Dad finally told me. I wasn’t upset he was gay, I was upset about the decite and waiting so long to tell me – or rather, for me to find out.

Ironically, I only ever had one incident, actually two – same person – when it came to my father’s sexuality. I always had friends going with me to stay the night at Dad’s. Okay, maybe not “always”… again, female = absolutes… anyway, there was never an issue until 5th grade. I had a friend over for a sleepover – nothing out of the ordinary happened, and yet the next day my mother received a very rash, disgustingly hateful voice message from said friend’s mother. She could not believe my mother failed to let her know about my dad before she allowed her daughter into “that environment.” Needless to say, said friend wasn’t “allowed” to be my friend anymore. The second incident happened a few months later at a school function. The entire 5th grade throughout the district had a meet and greet at the local skating rink. Good ol’ Skatin Station II. My former friend had gotten into an altercation with her friends from her previous school. I just happened to witness it. Yay me! When the girl told her mother, I somehow was again present and was accused of being involved. It was then when her mother publicly announced that I was, “the girl with the faggot father.” Yeah, maturity at it’s finest, ladies and gents. It wasn’t until three years later at the 8th grade end of the year party that the girl’s mother actually apologized.