Category: The Beginning

Posted on

13. Survivor – edited*

“From every wound there is a scar, and every scar tells a story. A story that says, -I survived.” ― Fr. Craig Scott

I know that I haven’t finished discussing my past with Kevin [09. First Love] but we’re just going to skip forward some. It’s not that I won’t or don’t want to talk about him, I just feel like there’s more to share that explains {why} I am me. Or rather, how I’ve gotten to where I am? I don’t know, whatever.

There are 2 relationships post Kev – well, maybe not exactly -post- but we weren’t “together” and he was away at college getting accustomed to his new life as a freshman basketball player. So what’s the best way to move on? Rebound. Not that I was exactly looking for a rebound but getting to know someone else didn’t hurt in helping me forget about Kevin. Although that relationship may not have hurt helping me get over Kev, it definitely hurt and left its mark for years to come. Here’s a definite altered name because he doesn’t deserve to be called anything other than, Asshole. Our relationship may have only lasted 3 months but it’s amazing how one can emotionally abuse you so much that you’re forever altered after such a short period of time. * EDIT [When you are emotionally abused you do things and put up with things that you wouldn’t normally accept. Emotional abuse can and -often does- lead to other forms of abuse. I choose to use “emotional abuse” as my umbrella term as it’s easier to discuss and how it >often begins<]* How did this happen? My only guess is that I was so vulnerable after Kevin went away to school that my guard and standards were dropped.

*🚫➡️ To better understand emotional abuse please visit: Here
*🚫➡️ If you or a loved one are a victim of domestic violence,
contact the National Domestic Violence Hotline at 1-800-799-7233 for
confidential assistance from trained advocates.

I had only been diagnosed at Mayo [06.HS/Diagnosis] just a few months prior and was still corresponding with my diagnosing doctor via email. All of my important notes, results, suggestions – everything and anything that I needed to share with my doctors back home, teachers, everything – were saved in an important file within my email. In a stunt to show control, Asshole hacked in and deleted EVERYTHING! Not -just- my medical folder, but he wiped clean my entire email account, to nothing… Remember now, I am only 17 at this point and to technically have a yahoo account you needed to be 18 at the time (has that changed?). Not that an 18 year old would know any better how to rectify the situation but my mother got a hold of customer service so fast that even The Flash would have had whiplash! Buuuuut unfortunately there was “nothing” they could do, once things are deleted from the trash, they’re lost within the back hole of cyberspace.

Looking back now, I’m sure Jack could have figured out a way to retrieve everything as his hacking skills are essentially what granted him a free masters degree that lead to some significant cybersecurity jobs. It’s always been a running joke that he actually works for the government but can’t tell us. He gets SO mad whenever anyone mentions it. He may be a phenomenal bullshiter, using words intentionally to go above your head so you have no idea what he’s saying and end up just going with it, but a gut feeling is a gut feeling and this gut feeling says otherwise! Ha, Ha.

Anyway, it was this stunt that got my parents involved and I was finally able to break away from the grips holding me prisoner. I am not exactly sure what happened, I may have a fantastic memory but I’ve certainly tried to block A-hole out, but I do remember him calling me late at night while I was at my dad’s so mad, that my dad took the phone from me – letting this guy have it, threatening to call his parents and tell them everything while also getting a restraining order. He may have been 18 but he still lived at home and had his parents fooled. It only took that one threat for him not to contact me again… until spring break [11. Childhood Friendships+] about 18 months later. I have NO idea how this guy found out, but apparently he joined the military and was stationed in FL at the time I was there. I received a call from a number I didn’t know so obviously I ignored it. Hello!? Who actually answers random numbers from out of state area codes?!?? I then received a text message from the same number that shook me to my core. It didn’t say who it was, but > I knew <. It was something along the lines of how I’m not a child anymore and that since we’re both in the same state, and area at the same time we should get together. That it had been long enough that I [shouldn’t] still be upset and that I was an adult now and didn’t need Daddy to protect me.

BreAthE…

See? I meant it when I said it shook me to my core!! I was at the strawberry festival at the time, not somewhere I had even planned on going, it was a last minute thing with Sheri’s parent’s. Nowhere was it posted online, nothing. Wherever we were, it wasn’t far from him and I still get chills when I think about it. How? How did he know? After all that time, new phone number, what? I never responded and as soon as we told Sheri’s parents what was up we booked it out of there! He never tried contacting me again, until he congratulated me via a FB message on my engagement, over 2 ½ years later. Uh, HARD BLOCK! I knew him during the Myspace craze and my FB wasn’t even under my real name at the time. What THE ACTUAL fuck?!!! It’s been 12 ½ years and THANKFULLY the universe has been beside me and I haven’t heard from him since. He lived in Royal Oak, which just so happens to be one of the top locations for adult nightlife. There is so much to do down there even during the day, but I get paralyzed every time I go there. For years, I couldn’t. Even just getting off the exit to go to the Detroit Zoo was the same and caused extreme tachycardia. Has it gotten easier over the years? Yes. Am I still affected each time I head to Royal Oak? Yes. I don’t wish anyone ill, but I also wouldn’t shed any ounce of sorrow or tears if something happened to him.

He broke me.

Which is what sent me to someone SAFE, comfortable. Someone I trusted and truly cared about. Someone who pined over me for years. Someone my mom really cared for even when we were just friends, though she always wanted more for us. Do you remember the time I kissed a guy on the bus, on the 3rd day of freshman year? If not, meet Christopher [09.First Love]. Oh Christopher… See, I [believed] he was someone safe, comfortable and trustworthy; but he shattered my heart. Unbeknownst to me, he was an addict. He too joined the military and leading up to his departure we were much closer and from my understanding, together. This was somewhere around March-May 2006 I believe? His family knew me, I was in contact with his parents (mostly his mama) while he was at bootcamp. I helped set up his welcome home party, was driven to and from said party by his dad and step-mom. They believed I was his gal, until this other girl showed up bouncing off the walls so excited and introduced herself as his girlfriend to everyone… jaw meet floor. The confused looks we all shared, it was almost a pin dropping silence within our own little bubble. At one point his cousin asked who she was, then looked at me and said, “I thought you…” I cut her off and replied, “am the best friend” with a shrug. At one point they left together and when he came back, she was gone. He told everyone he didn’t know why she thought that but that she had left. Other than that, never once did he try to rectify the situation and barely even apologized to me. It took every ounce of strength that I had not to cry.

Later that evening I received an email from his mom apologizing for his actions, that she was in disbelief herself and so disappointed in him. She promised to talk to him and make him get in touch with me. So, even later that evening I received an instant message (ayy A.I.M.!) He just kept apologizing and telling me how much he loved me and was going to make it up to me. Saying all of the right things, right? We only got a chance to talk at night due to work and school/whatever else goes on in the service post bootcamp, oh and a mini deployment. For nearly a year, I genuinely believed in our relationship. He would [half jokingly?] ask me when we were “getting hitched”, even gave me a date; blah, blah, blah. So no, we were never really engaged but from my understanding, rather serious!!

Then one day in November 2007 I got an email blast announcement, announcing and congratulating the newly married couple… Wait, what? Yeah, that’s exactly what I said and thought, too. I was so confused and angry that I sent a message I should have probably waited to send until I had some time to cool off. He of course wrote me back not understanding why I was so upset. That he’d expect me of all people to be happy for him, that he loved me so much, -> wait for it…

[I was like a SISTER!]
Boom! Mic dropped!! I’ll let you digest that for a moment…

Are you fkin’ kidding me? I didn’t even know what to say. This had to have been a joke, right? Like, this isn’t real life. I have hours and hours of saved messages, letters, texts… a sister? GTFO! My mom was just as devastated as I was. I quickly blocked him and refused to talk to him. There was nothing left to be said!!

My heart was shattered. Literally shattered.

It didn’t help that Kevin had started dating a girl, thee girl that caused most of our issues at the end (well not the real, real end, but I guess in a way it was because of her that we are officially no longer in each other’s lives at all, just not at that time). Hello mental rollercoaster, we meet again… Chris’ mom emailed me a few weeks later checking in and seeing how things were going. The nerve, right? No, I get it, she genuinely cared and wanted to see how I was doing, but also why I wasn’t talking to Christopher. So, I wrote her back, attaching just a fraction of the conversations I had saved, but enough for her to see why I believed we were legitimately, seriously, together still. Ha. The ironic thing is, I don’t even know if we were ever really technically together.

If you remember, I mentioned Christopher was an addict, yet I had no idea. His mother called me so fast, so angry and disappointed in him that she wanted more details. She was in complete disbelief. She had no idea her son was even capable of doing what he did. Apparently she let him have it and he tried reaching out because he was confused. All I had to say, or rather show, was the middle finger to my phone as his name appeared. <- I had a bad habit of not deleting anyone’s numbers. ::shrugs:: I didn’t have anything to say to him and ignored all his efforts. BTW that marriage was over within months, maybe even weeks, if I’m not mistaken.

I met my husband about 3 months later with a high, high guard up. But I’ll explain our story another time. After about 8 or so months Chris was going to be in town and really wanted to get together to talk. Having met Igor I was in a better place to try and listen. As I was still ignoring him however, he reached out to me via his mom and I told her that if he was serious, then for him to call me when he was back in town… Yeah, that call never happened. THEN a little over a year later he reached out :again: and firmly made it known that it was imperative that I give him a chance to explain himself. That he had so much to say and that “I more than anyone deserved an apology in person.” Uh… Igor and I were in such a great place that I was conflicted and concerned for his feelings about my meeting up with Chris. Like, this would be the first time in close to 2 years since we’ve actually spoken. I didn’t want Igor feeling concerned or anything but I knew he trusted me and when I asked him permission (and no, of course I knew that I didn’t {need} his “permission” – it was more about showing my respect for his feelings!) he didn’t sound too happy but knew that deep down, I needed this closure in order to really move on and heal. He told me that he’d respect my decision either way but deep down I knew he was on eggshells. Little did I know, the same day that I asked Igor about my getting together with Christopher, was the same day he received what he hoped would be my engagement ring…

We made plans to meet for lunch a few days later. He wanted to come to the house but Mom didn’t think she was ready to see him, given everything. So we planned to meet at a local diner where I waited, and waited, and as it turned out – that day became the first and last time that I have EvEr eaten by myself at a restaurant. Fker stood me up!! Seriously?! I was beyond fuming at this point when I received a call as I was driving home. He called beggggggging me to meet up with him right then, claiming he slept through his alarm because his phone died or something, who the eff knows. I was too weak to say no, and ultimately I’m -glad- that I didn’t, but part of me wishes I was strong enough to have just said, “F.U.”

Igor was right, I needed that closure. I knew that our relationship was progressing but in order for me to fully drop my wall, to be authentically raw and 100% vulnerable in my love and trust for him, I needed this.
I’ll admit, it was hard seeing Christopher at first. He’s always had this charm and charisma about him that no one can withhold smiling back when he smiles at you. I kind of hate him for that, joking::notjoking:: He told me first and foremost that I deserved so much more than an apology, that there are no excuses for his actions and that he hated himself for the hurt he had caused me. He loved and respected me too much, to not apologize and explain himself in person. He knew that nothing he was going to say was going to fix or make things better, and that he would understand if I still held resentment, though of course hoped I wouldn’t. He really wanted to apologize to Mom but he understood and asked me to pass his sincere apologies on to her. It was this conversation where I learned about him being an addict. That he was so messed up in the evenings that he couldn’t recall half of our conversations. Essentially, our entire “relationship” was while he was under the influence and he was basically living a double life without realizing it. You smell bullshit, right? Cause, same! The more we talked, the easier it got to see his side of things and my wall of anti-trust was starting to crumble. That said, forgiving and forgetting are two very different things. I could feel the genuine sincerity behind his words and forgiveness crept in. I told him about Igor and he claimed that he had never seen my face or eyes light up the way they do when I talk about him. He could tell how truly in love I was and apologized that he couldn’t be that person for me. He was thrilled for me because I deserved better and that until he was in a good place with himself, that he couldn’t be that person for anyone; he knew he had a lot of work to do.

Saying goodbye to Chris was easier than expected. We hugged and went our separate ways. I called Igor as soon as I got into my car and started bawling… Ha, I can only imagine what must have been going through his mind at that second seeing as he had just gotten a ring for me days prior. The tears I shed were relief, forgiveness, happiness, hopefulness, and so much more. I was relieved that the weight of all this negative energy was lifted off my shoulders, I was able to forgive and kickstart my healing to truly move on and leave it all in the past, and for that -I was happy-! Most of all, I was hopeful for my future with Igor. Meeting up with Christopher was exactly what I didn’t realize I truly needed. I was at peace; and within just a few short hours:

I was also engaged!!

{I wanted to end this post with that very last sentence, but I felt it necessary to give an update: It took a couple more years but he finally did it! If I’m not mistaken, I believe he recently celebrated 9 years of continuous sobriety. He has since married and had children. Which, of course, is great but honestly? I care more about the fact that he went on to achieve his bachelors degree and then even his masters! He was able to attain his ultimate dream of becoming a professional sports reporter and is currently a director of public relations and broadcasting! I could not be prouder or happier for him and his success!! You know the whole “once you love someone you always will” thing I keep mentioning? It’s true, I do love Christopher; but something  I have come to realize as the years have passed and with the help of therapy, is that after Asshole, I went for safety. Chris had always been special to me, [a true friend], even though he always wanted more for us. I never could love him the way that he wanted/needed, the way that I had loved Kevin or my husband. Maybe deep down he always knew that. While this is speculation, I believe that what transpired could very well have been his own subconscious way of protecting the both of us. It sucked and hurt so much at the time, but looking back, I wasn’t being fair to him to begin with. Maybe that’s why saying goodbye to him was easier than I had expected. Subconsciously I knew that I loved him fiercely, but only ever at arms length as a true friend.}

Posted on

12. Life Detour

“Life is a journey with almost limitless detours.”
― Ken Poirot

As you know, I got my GED. However, I just so happened to receive it before I turned 18 and before my class actually graduated, allowing me to get a head start at college. Taking the GED reminded me of every other “standardized test” I’d ever taken. I was both extremely nervous but also oddly calm. The test itself was relatively easy and I actually scored between the 90th-99th percentile in every area. I was shocked and found humor in the fact that I had struggled for so long, for… this? I guess the schools were [right] in that my IQ was “too high” and I mastered finding a way to “over compensate” for my struggles. ::hard, hard eye roll:: – {maybe even a middle finger or two…}

I started at the local community college because it was >free< via my FAFSA and Federal Student Aid eligibility. I grew up watching Matlock, Murder She Wrote and all Law & Orders with Auntie (along with many other classics) that I loved the idea of being a detective, buuuuut I could never see myself as an actual cop. I may have loved the idea but it was never actually a dream. Becoming a pediatric nurse had been my dream since I was about 12 and really started getting sick. There was this one particular nurse at my pediatrician’s office that helped make my visits less daunting. Her compassion, smile, kindness… She was everything I wanted to be for a sick child one day!

Oh, hello water works – didn’t expect to see you here!

As time went on and I got further into school, I really started wondering if I wanted to be either a surgeon or maybe even a medical examiner. There is this book series called, Stalking Jack the Ripper by Kerri Maniscalo that couldn’t be more perfect for me! It’s about this young lady, Audrey Rose Wadsworth, who is essentially a forensic scientist and medical examiner during a time it was absolutely not an acceptable job for a woman, as it’s set in the late 1880’s. The first book in the series was my lucky number 22 for that 10 book reading challenge I kicked ass at [07. Ode to my Mentors]. How appropriate that my now favorite book (series) was the last book in what I consider to be my greatest achievement to date?! Not only that, 22 actually is my favorite and lucky number making it that much more meaningful! <3 Talk about synchronicity!

I may have questioned being a surgeon or an ME but that would require a lot of work, health, dependability, stability and confidence. Things I couldn’t provide. I just didn’t have it in me to try pursuing something that may only lead to major heartbreak, again. Little did I know that life is just filled with heartbreak after heartbreak; you’d think I would have learned that by then… doh.

The wait list for nursing school was so long that I took many random electives to expand my knowledge since I loved learning. I have always been a puzzle girl so discovering forensic science quickly became a new passion and goes right along with the idea of an ME or a detective – figuring out the missing link to a puzzle. It only took one criminalistics lab class and I was hooked! I was still at the community college but got everything set up for transferring to Madonna University to major in Forensic Science and minor in Genetics. I chose Madonna because they are (or were? This was over 12 years ago so idk what’s what nowadays.) the only college in Michigan that had an actual major for Bachelor of Science in Forensic Science. Every other college requires a chemistry major with a forensic minor and that was just not going to work for me…

I like chemistry, don’t get me wrong, but it’s definitely not something I’d like to major in. Ironically there is so much emotion when chemistry comes to mind at this point that it’s kind of a rollercoaster. Before I get to the main culprit for the emotions I have to share some pride, first. I have two incredibly gifted children, the oldest being ALL things science. He decided when he was 7 that he wanted to be a rocket engineer and help put man on Mars. We’re a few years into this and it’s still his dream! However, before that while he was 6 and in the first grade, he started memorizing the periodic table and learning everything he could about all of the elements. When I say he is all things science, I mean it. The kid was the element Oxygen for halloween in second grade… he may be difficult at times but boy do I love him!

Okay, breathe… the culprit for the rollercoaster is that on September 21, 2009 I was in a very serious car accident… on my way to a chemistry class. It was the day we were getting our first exam results back, and to this day I have no idea what I scored. I was turning left getting off the expressway when someone ran a red light at full speed and t-boned my driver’s side door. You know how in movies or shows when there’s an accident everything slows down? When you can see everything happening but there’s nothing you can do for what feels like minutes, when in reality it’s literally mer seconds? Yeah, whoever writes those scenes has clearly, unfortunately, experienced a major accident because that’s legit how it went down. At the last moment I tried turning to the right so the impact wasn’t as bad. The car was totalled and with the extent of my injuries, I don’t even want to fathom how much worse it would have been! When everything slowed down and I knew it was happening, I remember just letting go and letting it happen. I apparently opened the door and yelled a few choice words but didn’t get out of my car. I couldn’t. I apparently was able to call Igor at work and tell him but I only vaguely remember it. I also know I called one of my parents, not sure who, but I remember some older gentleman staying with me talking on my phone as I was trying to describe my health issues. Or maybe he called them? No idea. Then everything went black until I awoke in the ambulance to the EMT cutting my jeans. This is totally trivial and vain but those were my favorite jeans, dammit! They were like the sisterhood of the traveling pants, except the sisterhood was the traveling weight I yo-yoed!

I don’t remember much after waking up during transport but I do know that Igor was Speed Racer and made it from work in Brighton to the hospital before I even arrived. For reference, that’s easily a half hour drive and I was only one mile from the hospital. My mom was scheduled for neck surgery the next day and I remember us both crying because we couldn’t be there for one another. I had gotten a concussion but was never told about it, I found out years later after the lawsuit was finalized and I got all the paperwork from my lawyer! With EDS [06. H.S/ Diagnosis] my left shoulder completely rotated and due to swelling the initial CT scan and MRIs didn’t show it, but I had suffered a spinal injury. We knew something was wrong because I couldn’t feel from the waist down, but I still had some movement. I was stable enough to head home, without answers, after 5 days and barely any memory from the time of the accident through my time in the hospital. I started physical therapy 3 times a week for my shoulder and learning to walk safely without feeling. During the next 3 months sensation slowly started creeping up my left leg and then eventually my right foot on up. However, my right side has never gained 100% full feeling back. After those 3 months I had graduated from PT and roughly 3 months after that I was back getting new MRIs and reaching out to spinal/ neurosurgeons.

During those first 3 months of uncertainty I had to put my forensic plans on hold, leaving me at a complete loss of what to do next. Igor had suggested possibly looking into a quick certification that would allow me to do school remotely while I healed, while also allowing me to work eventually as I continued pursuing my degree in forensics. You see, Igor and I had just gotten engaged ONE month prior to the accident and our engagement timeline was in accordance to my finishing my degree. While unmarried, I qualified for most of my tuition being covered but once we got married that qualification would be kicked to the curb. This accident turned my life plans upside down, breaking my heart, yet again. Being that becoming a nurse most of my life had been my dream, I went the medical assisting route and became a Certified Medical Assistant under the gold standard accreditation of the American Association of Medical Assistants.

Posted on

11. Childhood Friendships +

‘Childhood friendship is the most beautiful memory that can never be replaced.’ – Unknown

Lauren; my sissy-poo, has already been discussed a bit back in post [02. Dad] – but after 6th grade she moved about 35/40 minutes away for her mom’s new job. You always grow apart when people move, however we’re ~family~. We may not have seen each other often but we remained very close. Anytime we did get together it was like no time had ever passed, we never skipped a beat. Update: she’s still very much a part of my life (30 years this year!) and prior to Covid we tried to get together monthly with our moms. She made me an Auntie and it’s the best feeling knowing that our kids are going to grow up together. Even if mine are older, lol.

I’ve mentioned my tiny but mighty, strong willed friend Jessie [06. High school] but I haven’t really discussed her. Jessie has a twin sister, Jenna, so it’s ironic that while I was friends with both of them, Jessie and I were closer. They were a year younger and lived across the street from Lauren. Small world moment, when their mom stopped working to have them, my dad was hired to replace her at his current job. We didn’t find that out until many years later. Also an ironic fun fact, my mom had a nanny, who then went on to work for my dad’s boss (before he was my dad’s boss) and then quit working for his boss to work for my parents (again, before he was my dad’s boss). Seriously crazy 6 degrees of Kevin Bacon we’ve got going on over here! Their mom was (is?) an alcoholic and they were very much victims to life with an addict parent. There were a few times throughout our friendship that their mom didn’t want them hanging out with me for no other reason other than her need to control. Which sucked because Jess and I were best friends. We were basically inseparable in middle school. By the time Jessie was in 11th grade, life at home was so bad that she actually moved in with my mom and I. That’s why she was with us that day seeing the principal. She was also with us because around that time, Jessie – your typical straight A/B+ student, decided she was done with high school bullshit and dropped out. Figured I was going for my GED. Why shouldn’t she? … Like I said, a victim of life with an addict parent. Update: I’ll always love her and wish her well, but unfortunately the friendship was just too toxic to maintain. She met my husband once after we were engaged, though I haven’t seen her since.

Closest friends by grade in high school:

9th grade: Annie, Teisha (the new girl in 8th grade [from 10. Twin Flame] and Tiffany. Teisha and Tiff both moved to other states for 10th grade and yet I have maintained friendships with them both. I was actually part of Teisha’s wedding and flew out to Seattle to witness Tiff’s. To this day Teisha and I joke about how we actually met because how can we not?

10th grade: Jennifer and Eric. These two went on to get married just after high school but unfortunately Eric was in a terrible hit and run accident that left him with severe brain damage. Their marriage may have ended but they are still very close and I commend Jenn’s current husband for not feeling threatened by their maintained friendship!

11th grade: Jami and Shannon. Shannon’s mother was my chorus teacher’s assistant teacher, whom I was very close to as well, and cousins with a coworker of mine at Claire’s. It was actually Shannon’s birthday the day I returned from the Mayo Clinic for the first time [06. High School/Diagnosis] and the day I had my first car accident. Oh, welcome home Jena and happy birthday to you Shannon. What a way to spend your 17th birthday. Ugh, sorry Shan!

Jami… my Jaymlinn. Jami had a difficult past to say the least and wasn’t the most well behaved teenager because of it. She was a sponsored skateboarder but her poor choices took that away from her. She was sent to live with her uncle and his husband in hopes of turning things around. That’s where I enter the picture. Jami and I met in Health Occupations class the first day of junior year. There was just this cosmic magnetic pull between us. I really cannot explain it, but she was meant to be in my life and I, her’s. She never took things too seriously and just wanted to have fun. She was an incredibly smart, kind, considerate girl. A short story writer, singer/songwriter and artist – but unless you really knew her, she just appeared as an aloof, slow, stoned – but not – stoned teenager. But I can assure you she was so much more. When we first became friends her uncles couldn’t get over the change in her. I apparently was such a good influence that they wanted me around all of the time, ha, ha. It must be the empathic healer in me. I didn’t know it because she stopped drinking when we were hanging out, but she was an alcoholic. And knowing her past I don’t blame her for trying to shut out the noise, I just wish she had the chance to in a healthier way!!

Somewhere along the way Jami fell in love with me. I had no idea and I can only imagine what it did to her when Kevin and I were good. One night at a party we were playing truth or dare. Her friend must have known or suspected her feelings towards me because he dared me to kiss her. No problem, kissing whore, remember? Jami certainly wasn’t the first girl I had kissed but I was apparently her’s. She struggled with her sexuality and that kiss just made things more confusing. For us both. In middle school there was one girl at the skatin’ rink from a different school whom I always joked around with and we called each other each other’s girlfriend. The boys went crazy over it, especially when we kissed [we never made out or anything, just a simple peck].<- Man, I really was bad… We never hung out or saw one another other than at the rink but everyone [knew] we were “girlfriends.” The joke kind of faded as highschool went on and the only time we ever talk now is via Facebook when we wish each other a ‘happy birthday’, seeing as we share the SAME birthday… and similar name, lol.

I had known I was interested in some way to both boys and girls for years, but I never really entertained the idea of actually dating a girl. In fact, it took me until my 30’s to be able to fully understand and define myself. I always said I was attracted to the person for who they are, which is true. I need to have a true emotional connection with someone to allow myself to be vulnerable or intimate with them. I’m simply unable to just look at someone off the street and desire them, but I never really thought anything of it. Then one day I read the words “Biromantic Demisexual”. Upon researching meanings I discovered exactly where I stand. I have always described myself as exactly how those two words together, is defined. Hi, I’m Jena and I am a biromantic demi woman.

I was very confused when I started to develop feelings for Jami, because, well.. Kevin. Even though Kev and I may have been “broken up” we were never [really] broken up. We still talked daily, hung out, hooked up and still shared “I love yous”. We didn’t have the label but we also didn’t try pursuing anything with anyone else. At this particular point in time I was technically single but I still felt as though I was cheating. However, I couldn’t stop myself from being close to her, kissing her. I felt as though I was this whole different person experiencing my first love. I was so confused I started to pull away and she started to slip. She started drinking again, hanging out with the wrong group of people and dropped out of school. Yup, I’m the asshole.

I certainly did love Jami; it was a type of love I’ve only ever experienced once and I know I won’t ever again. Update: we’ve been in touch here and there throughout the years but really only via Facebook or text messaging. As it turns out, she was actually diagnosed with Autism as an adult and looking back it makes a lot of sense. We did get together once to catch up for the first time in easily a decade, shortly after my youngest was born. It was nice to see her but she admitted her feelings came right back the instant she saw me annnnnd I exited stage right. I felt bad, I still do, but that’s not something I can take on. She’s a part of my past that I’ll smile upon when I think about, but in my current life we’ll only ever be a memory. I do check in from time to time because I genuinely do care for her wellbeing. [empathic healer, remember?] I wish her nothing but happiness and success, which seems to be working in her favor as she’s been 100% sober for some time now and is getting married later this year!

12th grade: Sheri. Sheri used to live 3 houses down and across the street until she moved to Florida in high school. I was so sick by this point that all of my ‘friends’ had [forgotten] me. Out of sight out of mind, ya know? Sheri and I had always been friends but it was when I was sick that we were our closest. My best and essentially only friend lived thousands of miles away, how sad is that? I owe so much to her; I don’t think she truly understands how special and important she was to me and how much I’ll always be grateful for her! I admit and apologize that I unknowingly took advantage of her friendship. She went above and beyond for me while I visited Florida twice for spring break, celebrating my 18th and 19th birthdays. But when it came to her visiting Michigan and trying to move back here, I wasn’t around. I promise it wasn’t intentional and looking back I feel terrible knowing that I more than likely let her down. I am not going to sit here and try to make excuses for why I was [selfish] because there’s no excuse for letting your best friend down. Period. I own it and will never stop apologizing. Update: She did move back to Michigan but we weren’t in contact much. She has since moved back to Florida with her husband and we’re friends on Facebook. She is working towards her Masters in Social Work and with her love and compassion, her clients will be beyond lucky being under her care! She was the best thing I could have asked for, better than I may have deserved; I will forever be eternally grateful for her love and support during the worst time of my life. I honestly may not have made it through without her!

Posted on

10. Twin Flame

“When connections are real, they simply never die. They can be buried or ignored or walked away from, but never broken. If you’ve deeply resonated with another person or place, the connection remains despite any distance, time, situation, lack of presence, or circumstance… If it was truly real, you’ll be instantly swept back into the moment it was before it left- with the same wonder and hope, comfort and heartbeat. Real connections live on forever.”
– Victoria Erickson

Let’s talk friends. A not so smooth transition I know but I don’t know how else to discuss them as I’m writing this kind of chronologically. Let’s just see how it goes…

I think I need to start with Marion. My Mary-Kathrynn, June Bug and Moe. Marion and I met when we were 2 when my cousins’ lived in the house across the street from her. Mom actually ended up buying the house from my uncle after the divorce so I grew up across the street from her from ages 4-21. Our friendship has been nothing short of a roller coaster. Are you familiar with the concept of “twin flames”? I know I briefly mentioned it when talking about my Mom and Maria but, if you are not familiar with it, let me explain…

Sarah Regan wrote in her article, What Is A Twin Flame? 11 Signs You’ve Found Your “Mirror Soul” that, “every relationship has something to teach us and twin flames are often considered the ones that will teach us the most. A twin flame is an intense soul connection with someone thought to be a person’s other half, sometimes called a “mirror soul.” It’s based on the idea that sometimes one soul gets split into two bodies. One of the main characteristics of a twin flame relationship is that it will be both challenging and healing. This is due to the mirroring nature of a twin flame; they show you your deepest insecurities, fears, and shadows. But they also help you overcome them and vice versa—your twin flame will be equally affected by you.”

Marion and I may have lived across the street from one another most of our lives, but we weren’t always on the best of terms. And it’s not even that we were necessarily fighting, we just drifted in and out from each other’s lives for various reasons. She too was a victim to life with an alcoholic parent and she spent a lot of time at my house. I consider Lauren my sissy-poo but I’d be lying if I didn’t see Marion as one at times. It wasn’t until recently that I came to the realization that she’s without a doubt my twin flame. Our friendship had its challenges but when push came to shove, we were always there for eachother when we needed one another the most. I still have numerous cards and notes from her over the years expressing how we may drift but she’ll always come back to me. And it’s true, she does.

In high school we had completely different friends. She and Jessie did not get along, at all. I don’t know if it was insecurity or jealousy but if I was playing with one and the other showed up at my house unannounced, one would end up leaving. <- Is that even still a thing? Do kids still just show up at their friend’s houses like it’s their own home? My kids barely want to play with their friends outside of school so I have no idea what’s common these days. Ha. Her and my brother had some weird thing for each other and while I know I wasn’t innocent, sometimes her behavior left me concerned. She started dating this guy that I did not get along with. 5 years later they were briefly engaged and I’m so glad she dodged that one! In fact, this same guy told the new girl in 8th grade (during the summer when they met) not to talk to some girl by the name of [insert my name here] because of how much of a bitch she was. During first period on the first day of school I noticed someone new and I went and introduced myself. Some bitch, huh? I let this poor girl go on and on about what he said and she couldn’t get over how kind I was for taking the time to welcome her. Our teacher started doing attendance and when my name was called, I’m fairly certain she went through every shade of red imaginable. Talk about inserting your foot into your mouth. Ha, ha. Luckily for her I’m not the bitch she was told to fear and we became really good friends!

So yeah, it’s kind of hard to maintain a friendship with someone when they are dating someone who was really butt hurt because you turned them down in 6th grade. Good grief. Then there was the time when she came to my brother for weed and I told her mom. ::hides face:: Okay, I did it out of concern, not out of spite. Like  I said, her behavior really started changing over night and I didn’t recognize her anymore. Annnd Kevin may have had a hand in convincing me. Him and Marion didn’t really get along either because she didn’t like how I’d let him back into my life after all the hurt in the past. But also, maybe I was a bit jealous over her new friendships and subconsciously projected it as concern? Idk. All I know is that it was a huge mistake that cost us almost 2 years without speaking. It wasn’t until our graduation parties that we started to rebuild our friendship that turned into the best time of our relationship. From 18-24 we were on the best of terms and I didn’t think anything could break what we had built. She was at my college commencements when I walked across the stage for the first time and she was my maid of honor at my wedding. However, unfortunately, that didn’t last. Once again, the tumultuous relationship between twin flames.

Things started to go downhill when I was pregnant with my oldest. Her husband had recently been deployed right around the time I found out I was expecting. It was very difficult on her and I wasn’t able to be there for her as we both would have hoped. I didn’t realize things were as bad as they were because she never told me. I was SUPER sick during that time and I couldn’t really do much of anything. I couldn’t drive and we lived about an hour away from one another at that point. She slowly started pulling back as depression took over. She had a lot of attitude with my mom over throwing my baby shower and hit below the belt a time or two. It was rough. It was especially rough when my son was born a month early and my bff was nowhere to be seen. He’s 9 and they’ve never met…  in fact, I have only seen her in person 4 times since my baby shower. Her father’s funeral 2 years later, her mother’s funeral 4 years after that, a few months after her mother’s passing we met up to talk about everything that had happened, and then again for dinner this past summer, 3 years later. Her not being around was so incredibly difficult and heart breaking for me, but just like any twin flame relationship – I grew and learned so much about myself during that time, it was almost necessary. I couldn’t be who she needed me to be and I have since learned that neither could she, for me.

After her dad passed I had so many mixed emotions about going to pay my respects, but there’s no way I couldn’t not go. I may have been hurt by her actions but that doesn’t take away from the hurt she was experiencing. At the time I didn’t know they had the chance to reconcile so going into it my heart was that much heavier for her! It was good to see her but after we left my husband asked me if I hoped anything would come of this and I honestly didn’t care if they did or didn’t. We didn’t talk again until she called to tell me of her mother’s passing. I had suspected something as I was still friends with her sister in law on Facebook but I didn’t know for sure. I about threw up when I saw her name appear on my phone. I didn’t want to answer but I knew I had to. My grandfather had just recently passed so I was especially a mixed bag of emotions. I was sad for her when I heard of the passing of her father, but hearing that her mother had died, cut me deep.

Being there, seeing her family, talking to her mother’s childhood best friend about how good it was to see me there or Marion. It was a lot. But in that moment I knew that it was time. It was finally time for us to heal and move forward. 

After a while we decided to meet up for coffee and talk everything through. After my oldest was born and I hadn’t heard from her in a while, I wrote her a letter expressing my feelings. It of course went unacknowledged until that coffee date. I mentioned how much it hurts knowing that your best friend has walked away from you twice due to your health. It’s definitely a knife to the heart kind of feeling and I went 6 years thinking that. She apologized and explained to me that it wasn’t anything I did, she just needed to work on herself before she could be there for anyone else. Which, I understand. It doesn’t take away the pain I experienced but I understand it. I had always liked her husband so hearing of the divorce saddened me. That was of course until I heard the reasoning behind it. But that’s not my story to tell and a tough topic, so I’ll just say: PTSD post war deploymentS. Which, that itself still saddens me because of how screwed over our veterans are!! Arg.. During that talk I discovered that her divorce was finalized the same week her mother passed away. OMfG talk about an emotional mind fk!! I honestly cannot imagine and while I wasn’t there for her during it, I was glad that I was able to be a part of her healing, however much or limited that may be! 

I had been blocked on Facebook (she had no memory of blocking me and suspects her ex-husband was to blame) so she unblocked me and we kept in touch that way. A comment here or there, a memory. Small things. I was going through a difficult time and while she didn’t know the details, she sent me a card to cheer me up. She saw a skeleton mermaid, thought of me, bought it and dropped it off. (Oh, if I haven’t already mentioned, Halloween is my jam and I AM a mermaid. Shhh.. don’t question anything, just go with it!) It felt good to reconnect but I still kept my arms extended so as to not allow myself to get too vulnerable. That’s probably why it took another 3 years before we got together again.

You know, the universe works in mysterious ways. Some say that there is a being, God, that is in control. Others believe in multiple gods and goddesses. Then there’s those who don’t believe in anything and that what is, just is. I myself am spiritual and believe in everything being energetically connected. How that is, I don’t have an answer for you; I can only mention my beliefs from what I have experienced myself. There is no way of knowing for sure during this lifetime, as this physical being. Just be a good person and everything will be good, dammit! All of that was said to lead up to an example of how strongly Marion and I are connected. I don’t typically dream and when I do, I rarely remember them. We hadn’t talked in a while which makes this all the crazier! One night I had a dream and all I can recall is her walking up this grand staircase in the most beautiful wedding gown. I had never seen her so radiant. I mean, I knew she was dating someone but had no idea how serious things were. After a few days I texted her to tell her about it, never expecting the response I received. You see, it just so happens that her now fiance had bought her a ring just a few days prior! They were not officially engaged as of yet and she hadn’t told anyone, and yet, I picked up on it! She ended up telling me the story and I just get chills thinking back. Like, I know we’re not the best of friends these days, but knowing I was the first she actually spoke to about it, warms my heart. She even said that it just felt right that I would be.

She had moved away to a beautiful tourist town a few hours away for a job. It just so happened that Igor and I were going up there for our first vacation away just the 2 of us since our honeymoon {10 years prior!}. While in town we met up for dinner and she had me in tears as she apologized to Igor, because even though he had been nothing but amazing towards her, the fact she hurt me so much had to have hurt him, too. Now that’s growth done right! She has since moved back this way and is living with her new fiance. Update: only time will tell where our paths will cross again and what is to come of our friendship. I just know that we are connected in a way that cannot be explained and I am who I’ve become because of her. I wish her nothing but love, light and happiness!

Posted on

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::

Posted on

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

Posted on

07. Ode to my Mentors

“To mentor is to touch a life forever.” – Unknown

The Plymouth-Canton school district was a great place for education, as long as you fit their mold. As previously mentioned, I struggled in school but the school never helped me. I didn’t qualify for any assistance with special services because while I did have a type of dyslexia and a processing disorder, my test scores were “too good”. My grades weren’t consistent with needing help. The actual words that the school social worker (or whoever it was that did the testing) said were, “Your IQ level is too high. It may be hard for you but you’ve learned a way to overcompensate and make it work.” … uh… cool.

Thankfully I had some incredible teachers and assistant principal on my side. I wasn’t always lucky, though! No, in second grade my teacher was a straight up witch but with a capital B! She was so hard on me but claimed it was because she liked me and knew my potential. Seven/eight years old is such an impressionable age that her hateful words stuck with me. I had the stress and anxiety of trying to be perfect because of what my brother told me, added to being talked down upon by my teacher, that it’s no wonder I struggled to believe in myself. It’s no wonder I am a perfectionist. It’s no wonder I never feel good enough or even see my accomplishments as something to be proud of. It’s no wonder that I stressed over every grade that I had to learn to “overcompensate”. Damn those years were tough!

It’s funny how over time things get buried so deep that you forget what caused you to be the way you are. All I know is that I cried when my son went to second grade because I knew he wasn’t going to have a negative experience like me. Although jokes on me, it was that year Covid-19 took over, but that’s for later. My son’s second grade teacher is one of the most exceptional humans that I have ever been lucky to know! The only other person I could compare her to would be my 8th grade English teacher who literally changed my life. [Laura Doran, from the bottom of my heart, thank you for all that you do to help shape our younger generations into compassionate and successful humans!!! – Hugs! – ]

Since I’ve already briefly mentioned 3 horrible teachers, I’ll leave it at that. They’re not worthy of more mention. However there have been a few noteworthy instructors and I could list them all out, but I really only want to honor three in particular: Jerome Sullivan, Shelby Holcomb and Amy Trombley.

Mr. Sullivan was my middle school vice principal. He was strict and everyone hated him, except Jack and I. Thinking about it, some of my favorite teachers could be considered mean and less favorable to most. Interesting… anyway, Mister Sullivan believed in me. He saw my potential while also believing my struggles. As did my middle school chorus teacher, Mrs. Holcomb and my 8th grade English teacher, Mrs. Trombley. [Huh, I just realized they’re all from middle school, one of the worst seasons in my life.] Mr. Sullivan volunteered his time after school once a week to help me with homework. He read to me. That may not seem like much but it meant everything. He proved he cared by his actions and he didn’t stop there. Once I was in high school he insisted on helping us fight for a 504 plan that would allow me assistance. He attended all of our meetings with my counselor and other administration and vouched for me as my former vice principal. Between his help and my mom fighting like hell, I was finally able to get the assistance I diservered! That same year he took a temp VP job at another one of the three high schools and had lunch duty at mine. Every so often if he noticed me not eating he’d give me a dollar for fries and wouldn’t let me pay him back. People can say what they will but Jerry Sullivan is good people and I’m still so appreciative of him!

When Mrs. Holcomb took you under her wing, you were her student for the long haul. She had my back and really looked out for me. We kept in touch and the last time I saw her was my “high school” graduation party. When she passed her classroom aid made sure I knew so that I could pay my respects to the family and say my goodbyes. She was special to me to begin with but what I learned that day proved how special she was to everyone else, as well.

My last shoutout really deserves her own entry because a few sentences won’t do her justice. Though, I have written so many papers about her over the years that I think she’ll understand. ::wink:: Mrs. Trombley changed my life. Her help and belief in me unblocked something and I’ve never looked back. She was more than a teacher, mentor and friend – she became “Mom #2”. We were so close that some believed I was her adopted daughter. Much like my son’s teacher, Amy gives her heart to everything she does. She has a way of empowering her students to see themselves the way she does. She sees only the good, the potential and never lets you question your abilities. Having struggled in English my entire life I never would have expected to go from a C average in Language Arts to an A, and at times the best of my class! It’s embarrassing to admit but I’ll own it – it wasn’t until she introduced me to ☆🛊 (Stargirl) by Jerry Spinelli that I successfully finished reading my first chapter book. Stargirl will always hold a very dear spot in both of our hearts and the message behind the book needs to be taught to every child, making the world a better place as a result!

To this day she is still a huge part of my life and I credit her for a lot of my accomplishments. After what I went through to get there, she made sure she was in attendance at my college commencements ceremony; the only time I walked across a stage wearing a cap and gown. And has been there for all of life’s biggest moments. I cry thinking about how much love I have for this woman and the impact she has made in my life. 

Others may think I’m crazy but my biggest accomplishment in which I am truly proud of myself, didn’t happen until I was 31. I set a reading goal to read 10 books that year, knowing damn well I likely wasn’t going to achieve it. I have friends trying for 75-100+ books a year and my goal was 10. But you know what? I crushed that goal by 220%!! Not only did I read 10 books in the first 12 WEEKS of the year, I ended the year with 22 (my favorite number) by reading my new favorite book. I will forever be proud of that accomplishment more than anything else. And to think, if it wasn’t for Mrs. Trombley introducing me to Stargirl all those years ago, I may never have learned that I love reading. So what if it did take me until my 30’s, I got there and no one will rain on my parade!

Posted on

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?

Posted on

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.

Posted on

04. Revelations

“Dear mom, I get it now.” – Unknown

It would be easy to hold a grudge against my mom even though I understand, because even though I understand, it doesn’t make it easier when she lets me down. No, I am not naive and think I’m never going to be let down, it’s life. It happens. But again, when others come first for whatever reason it’s just an instant reminder of the past. Just like when it comes to chronic illness. If you do get “used” to it, it doesn’t make it any easier… and in reality, you’re never truly used to it – but rather learning to cope with it easier. It is also easy to call mom [selfish] for her choices, however, unless you’ve been in her shoes and have battled chronic illness yourself – what you need to understand is that her being selfish wasn’t really selfish at all. At least not in the negative way it’s usually portrayed. Don’t get me wrong, I fully acknowledge understanding that it is easier said than done, with or without health issues. But! As someone with her own screwed up health, I am asking you… scratch that – [telling] you to at least [try] to understand it.

It took me until I got sick myself to understand. To understand what it’s like to have your life ripped out from under you; grasping at any little speck of normalcy that you can manage to grab hold of, before it slips through your fingers as you fall. Hard. Flat on your ass. It takes a long, LONG time to come to terms and accept that the life you once had will never again be what it was. Not only do you have to accept your new “normal”, but you have to discover the balance between doing what you want to do and how you’ll pay for it. Whether or not X is worth the backlash of Y. Not to mention learning to [live] and not just [survive]. Something I myself am still struggling with. When you’ve been sick for so long, it’s incredibly difficult to not live in constant fear of ‘what ifs’. It’s only natural to want to avoid anything that [could] knock you down and set you back. Therefore getting into the habit of survival mode instead of living a happy fulfilled life.

In the book 10% Happier: How I Tamed The Voice In My Head, Reduced Stress Without Losing My Edge, and Found Self-help That Really works – A True Story, Dan Harris recalls a discussion in which he was told that, “often it’s not the unknown that scares us, it’s that we think we know what’s going to happen – and that it’s going to be bad. But the truth is, we really don’t know.” It’s scary how truthful that statement is! Since the age of nine the need for everything to be perfect controlled the depths of my brain. No matter how prepared I was for a test, in my mind, I had already failed before it began.

I am a perfectionist.

 – [So much so that I have my cousin and husband editing my writing;  if there’s any mistakes that’s not on me at this point. ::wink::]

I have to plan activities and events way in advance so that I can prepare myself in order to partake in said activities/events – only to stress irrationally what I won’t be able to and that I’ll crash horribly once it’s done, just to get down on myself questioning if it was worth it because of how miserable I feel… This scenario is on loop, always three steps ahead of what’s really going on. My mind does not rest, always preparing for the worst and any scenario that could arise. I can be questioning if something was worth it before planning even begins.

As a sick wife and mother – don’t even get me started on the guilt that I am ruining their lives and they’ll someday resent me. Oh, the guilt! That sneaky bastard is probably the worst part of living with chronic illness. It makes you believe you’re always letting someone down, no matter what. The guilt of wanting to be “selfish” and do something for yourself vs. the guilt of how you’ll be perceived and who you’ll hurt along the way. It’s no wonder I have been in therapy on and off for decades. Between the guilt that comes from being sick and this notion that I am never good enough – always needing to do better; that is a balancing battle I am not sure I will ever master.

I read a quote once that I actually wrote out and framed. I have no idea who originally said it so I apologize for not giving credit where it is due; however, the quote is as follows: “The happiness of your life depends on the quality of your thoughts”. Truth. Happiness is a choice and who wouldn’t choose to be happy? As much as I may think I understand, I can not pretend to fully comprehend what all my mother was going through. What I do know is that hanging out with Maria made her happy. On the weekend, for her sanity, she was childless and able to fake some level of normalcy. During the summer she was able to visit my biological great-grandmother who had been a family secret and institutionalized in PA since my grandmother was 2. 

Freda had been forgotten about for over 50 years, so when my mother found out about her she made it her mission to visit every few months. Of course as a kid I didn’t understand the importance behind it, just saw Mom on vacation with Maria. Turns out Mom wasn’t really being selfish at all, she was using her heart and giving a long lonely life a happy ending. Whether Mom went about things the right way or not – I don’t know, I couldn’t tell you. When life hands you lemons you make lemonade, right? There’s no right or wrong way to make it, you just learn as you go what works best for you. Just like with anything in life. You learn from your mistakes. No one can predict how their life is going to go, nor can they predict how they’ll respond to whatever happens. All you can do is move forward with gained wisdom.

As unfortunate as it was, Mom getting sick turned out to be an unexpected gift. A blessing in disguise if you will. When I was six years old I caught pneumonia and for the next 11 years I suffered from unexplained symptoms. In elementary school I was sent home almost weekly due to low grade fevers. I’d spike a fever and it’d go away on its own. I felt fine but the school said I had to go. I simply wasn’t regulating my temperature properly and no one knew why. I had extreme “growing pains” throughout every fiber of my body. Mom was diagnosed with Fibromyalgia and feared my fate was sealed… I don’t have Fibromyalgia. By nine I had started my period and suffered debilitating migraines. Yes, nine. 

Surprise!  – Happy Birthday, Jena! – 

…. Worst. Present. Ever! 

WTF?! Way to ruin innocents, universe!

Nine was a rough year for me. Mixed in with all of the hormonal changes my body was experiencing and the start of my migraines, I was filled with terror bestowed upon me by my thoughtful – loving – brother. An oxymoron, right? My brother, thoughtful and loving? Good one. Jack was nine when he left home for a bit and wouldn’t let me forget it, using it to his advantage. Children are easily influenced by other children, especially when the other kids are older. They have an easier time relating to someone closer to them in age, therefore trusting what they have to say over most adults. So when Jack told me that I, too, would be sent away unless I was the perfect child, got straight A’s, and did exactly what was expected of me, it was easy to believe. He said that they wouldn’t love me if I ever disappointed them. Yikes!

First of all, how heartbreaking is it, that’s how he felt – what he believed to be true?! SO sad! It took me until I was nearly 27 to realize the impact of his words. Up until then I had always figured his words were just words and the issues they originally caused were sorted out when I was 10. Was I ever wrong! I struggled horribly in school. Between ADHD and a form of dyslexia mixed with a processing disorder, I didn’t come close to what I [believed] was expected of me. If Jack was so smart, so advanced – how the hell could I not be “sent away” when he was? How could my parents be proud of me when I wasn’t amounting to even a fraction of Jack? If they weren’t proud of me they wouldn’t love me and then what was the point anymore? 

Eventually the pressure got to be too much. At my tenth birthday party I took a chinese jump-rope, wrapped it around my neck and feet and pushed it out so it tightened around my neck. Luckily some friends walked in on the scene and stopped me. Between begging and pleading I convinced them not to go tell my mother. I know they were petrified so I give them immense kudos for going to the school counselor the following Monday morning. I find it incredible that a group of 9 and 10 year old girls not only grasped the severity of the situation, but also had it in them to do something about it! By the afternoon there was a full blown intervention held in my honor.

Looking back, I honestly don’t know if I was truly depressed and trying to end my life, or if I was joking around. I know I claimed I was joking around but logically looking at all of the facts, it had to have been more of a cry for help. I needed attention. Although, when I was 31 I was diagnosed with PMDD and I do wonder if that played a role because I know for certain that I had my period on my 10th birthday… hmm… Anyway, I was put in therapy and hated it! Over decades of seeing different therapists I know it takes the right fit for anything to be helpful. Maybe if I could have seen the “right” person at that time, I wouldn’t have suffered the next 16+ years with suppressed issues buried so deep! I had no idea they were even there.