After months of being this version of myself that I wanted everyone to think was real (myself included), it’s now time to put out into the universe what’s really been going on in my head. I wish I could say that this was by choice, but I think if I don’t start taking advantage of writing therapy, there won’t be a version of me left to tell.
Seven years ago today, there were three men in my life – Justin Timberlake, Jonny Lang, and the person I would end up marrying. Justin helped me bring sexy back, Jonny helped me get over old Jonnys, and the last one, well, he gave me everything else.
When I fell in love at 21 years old, I didn’t see it coming. My life had been this shit-show of a mess. I was starting over, in a way, as I entered my senior year of college – right after the majority of my friends graduated a few months prior, trying to figure out how to exist in this place that I had called home for three years, which somehow no longer had space for me in it. I let everything go – going to class, taking care of myself, and the relationships I was still fortunate enough to have during (what I thought was) the hardest time in my life.
The pain that I felt in the fall of 2006 was unbelievable. I spent most of my time sleeping, writing in my journal at all hours of the night, and listening to a lot of unfortunate music choices. And then out of nowhere, something shifted. I can cite the exact moment I felt the change, the words spoken, right down to the minute. It was one of those cliché movie scenes where the director foreshadows what lies ahead, and I can even remember the thoughts that ran through my mind as it all came to light. I would kill to go back.
Divorce, to date, is probably the most unsettling thing I’ve ever had to go through. This includes every medical ailment I’ve had the pleasure of dealing with, hands down. No matter how together you think you have it one day, the next day can be the epitome of leaving oatmeal in the microwave too long. Explosive, sticky, and a pain in the ass to clean up. And at a glance, it might look like you did a good job, but no matter what, everything you cook after that takes on the flavor of whatever was left behind.
I like to think that my story is different than everyone else’s in the d-club (get your heads out of the gutter…). While as everything was unraveling I could only tell myself that everything happens for a reason, it was only recently that it kind of clicked for me. I had spent so many months, years even, angry and in pain. Resentment tainted every interaction I had with the one person I loved most, and in an effort to be able to breathe again, I sacrificed our happiness for his.
Ours for his.
Don’t get me wrong, this all sounds beautiful and eloquent and incredibly wise now, but I had no idea at the time that this is what was happening. When all of the horrible feelings finally subsided and left me only with sadness, it became very clear to me that I would be giving 2006 a run for its money.
But I had to know for sure. I had to see for myself if this thought process was just a phase or if this was the long-awaited epiphany I had spent months looking for. And in a moment of weakness (or perhaps, strength), I decided to take control of my emotions by owning them. Believe it or not, for someone who basks in the pride of being so communicative, I wasn’t even listening to myself. I had compartmentalized the screams of truth and told them they were wrong. I told myself every day that the way I felt wasn’t right. That I needed to make everyone around me happy and continue along with the façade that I was much stronger than I actually am. That I was a whole person.
And what I came up with when I decided to let myself truly unravel was the answer I had been looking for this whole time. Seven years later, as I sit here with Justin and Jonny’s newest albums stacked next to me on the bed (with some unfortunate music choices playing in the background… hey, I’m human) and again, starting over, it’s still the same three men in my life. I knew it back then, I knew it when I signed the papers, and I knew it when we sat sharing bench space and catching each other up on life in a way that only he and I could.
Does that mean that this will be a happily ever after? That depends really on how “ever after” is defined. If we’re talking about this all leading back to me being the one he finds after he finds himself, I can’t even begin to guess. But in the eyes of love’s grand gestures, if he ends up happy, I think this is my greatest one. And as for me? Well, while a realistic person, I’ve always secretly been a very hopeful one.
And I’d like to believe that there’s more music to be made.
The Four Eleven 