Lessons Learned

I was in a relationship with a woman for almost four years.  It was wonderful.  She was the person I planned on spending the rest of my life with.  We met when I was still in high school, seventeen, through work.  She didn't catch my eye at first,  and honestly I didn't even like her.  We got to know each other.  She had a long term girlfriend she had never been faithful with and I had a boyfriend I thought I was head over heels in love with.  She and I became best friends, and our significant others began to make comments about us being more than friends.  This was not the case, and ended up being the one thing that pushed us together.  I took a break from my boyfriend, being honest with him, and she began cheating on her girl friend. Eventually he and I ended things for good, and not on good terms, and I began only seeing her.

I was the typical girl on the side.  "When are you going to leave her?"  "You promised you would tonight."  "Can I see you tomorrow?"  "I'll keep it quiet."  I was everything I never ever thought I'd be, and I became the girl that ruined what from the outside looking in was the perfect relationship with her and her partner.  

After a few ups and even more downs, and me falling absolutely in love with this adulteress, we ended up together.  We were happy.  I thought we were happy.  We had a wonderful relationship it seemed.  We fought now and then, but that's normal.

She got clean from hard core drugs and convinced me I had a problem with alcohol. Keep in mind, I was 18 years old, incredibly codependent, and this was my first real relationship.  I got clean, stopped drinking all together, and fell into the Narcotics Anonymous program.  I owe my life to that program, but not for the reasons you think.

She and I both did well in the program, and at about eight months clean I really started working on me as a person and not as me as her girlfriend.  I realized what I did and didn't deserve and what I was and was not willing to put up with.  And at about this time she rekindled an old friendship.

You can guess where the rest of the story goes.  I stopped asking permission to do things and spent the money I made on things I wanted to and not necessarily things she wanted me to.  I still paid my half of the bills and took care of what was needed.  

She began cheating, spiritually and emotionally with the married woman she rekindled the friendship with.  They began to sneak out and see each other; the woman lying about my girlfriend needing her to her husband, and my girlfriend spinning the same lines on me.  And it worked.  They began a secret 'relationship,'  (for lack of better words) for about four months.  

Eventually they got caught, and everything was done.  It was spun out to be my fault; that I pushed her away or that I wasn't there for her.  The exact same lines she sang to me when her and her girlfriend finally ended and where I stopped being just the girl on the side.  The last time she got caught doing the same thing.  

My codependent, ignorantly blissful world came crashing down and I was the only one left for pick up the pieces.  I didn't have all my things out of the house I spent a year making our home before the girl was already moved in.  It hurt.  Saying it hurt is an understatement, but there are no better words.  

Now, it's been two months and I've begun to see other people.  I'm not looking for a relationship, but being in a relationship is the only thing I've known and what I've had to grow up in.  Now, I'm twenty years old starting over with almost nothing. 

Four years ago, if I hadn't of gotten involved with this girl, right now I would be living in my own place, maybe with the man of my dreams I left for her.  I would be a sophomore in college, I would be getting into my career classes.  I would have a ring on my finger.  I would still be the same old Sarah, but I would be happier with the way my life was and who would be in it.  

I've revisited my relationship with that man, and there is no chance of fixing what I broke.  We are two entirely different people now, and while we are best friends again, I am the girl he talks to about his girlfriend.  And it hurts too.  

We can't do this though.  We can't go back and say, "what if," because those things can never ever happen the way they  would have then.  We have to live with the consequences of our actions, and we are the ones that have to live with what we've done at the end of the day, good and bad.  

So, I'm 20, which is still very young, starting over.  I've got to get back to myself, and worry about what I need to do to fix my story, and clean up my side of the street.  At the end of the day, the only side of the road we have is our own.  I don't have to live with my ex girlfriends mistakes, I have to live with mine. And while it's okay for me to hurt and feel angry or sad, I have to get up and put one foot in front of the other.  Otherwise I'll stay in the same place forever.  

The other side of my bed gets really cold at night, but I just roll over and ask for acceptance, grace, and mercy and close my eyes.  With tears or with out, eventually I fall asleep.  Everything hurts, but some of the biggest lessons you learn in life, the most beneficial ones, comes from the biggest mistakes.  

Normal?

What is normal? By definition it means conforming to the standard or the common type; usual; not abnormal; regular; natural. So, being 'normal' is similar, I guess, to being like everyone else. Well, what's normal to one person might not be to someone else in a different community or culture. So is anyone ever 'normal'?

In my town, there are so many different types and groups of people. To some groups, the other groups are not considered normal. But what happens to the people that don't fit into any one of the groups because they can potentially fit into all of them? That's where I stand.

I have a friend in every type of group I can think of. I have some sort of personality trait that can potentially put me into every group possible, and some of the groups I could be put in would call me a hypocrite for some of the other groups my other personality traits could put me in. But, I refuse to change who I am or what I say to fit into any of the groups, so that kind of kicks me out of all of them. So where do I fit? I don't fit, and I don't feel the need to 'fit'.

For a while I, just like every teenager, struggled to find a place to fit. That's what is expected. That's what our peers pressure us to do. And for a while, I did that. I wanted so badly to fit some where and have that close group of friends just like me, so I tried changing the things I said or the way I dressed to fit a certain group, but no matter how hard I tried, I could not change the things I believed in. I can't judge another because they don't look like me to sound like me or dress like me, but that's what fitting into a group meant to me. It took me time to realize that's not who I am. So I stopped trying.

I'm happy with who I am now, because although I still have a lot left to learn, I never have to question what I stand for or what I believe in. I get judged by some, sure, but I'm okay with that. Their opinions don't make me, and they sure as hell won't break me. Only my opinion matters when it comes to who I am or the way I dress or the things I say, and my true friends know and understand that and they like that.

So, what is normal? Its a setting on the washing machine.

Losing Religion

When I was younger, parents went to church, so I went with them. Every Sunday we woke up early and dressed up to go to church. It was typical. I was a southern baptist, and my church was a small, sort of wounded looking building. It was a very humble place. Everyone knew everyone and all that business. We were friendly, and I was probably related to over half of them. I called everyone "ma'am" and "sir" and respected everyone. From what I can remember it was nice, and also kind of scary. My preacher at the time (our church never seemed to be able to keep preachers, so we had three or four different preachers while I was there) was a very intense person. Often times he would get really into his sermon and bang on the podium, shattering the quite of the church. This always scared the shit out of me. He was intimidating, like the power of the mighty "god" had gotten into him or something like that. It always bothered me, but the man himself was really nice and friendly. I liked him a lot.

Being baptised was the big thing for kids growing up in the church. All of us knew each other, and had all been brought up going to that same church and staying in the same Sunday school classes. When one of us accepted "god" into our lives, often times a few others followed. It made going through the rather massive experience easier. When I saw one of my cousins getting baptised, I decided I wanted to do the same. My dad spoke with the preacher and he came over to my house. He sat me down and asked me a bunch of questions, all regarding whether or not I really understood "god" and if I was ready to let "him" into my life. I told him yes, I really wanted to do this. The next weekend I was baptised, just like that. I remember the experience vividly.

Looking back now, I understand why the preacher wanted to talk to me before he announced that I was to be baptised. He wanted me to understand what I was doing was huge in the Christian faith, and to make sure I wasn't just doing this because all my friends had. I don't believe in any of it now, but I can understand why, to someone that is a devout Christian, being baptised is a big deal.

Not long after that; a few years maybe, my parents slowed down going to church so much. I don't know why, maybe the change of preachers, but we just started to slack off some. We stopped going all together for about two months, and if I wanted to go at all I had to ask my grandmother to take me. She lived next door and didn't have any problem with taking me and bringing me home. It was kind of like our bonding experience, so I looked forward to it. But after a while, my parents picked back up a little and we started going again for a while. I don't know how long we went that time, but I don't think it was too long. After that, we stopped going all together. I haven't been back to that church in maybe five years.

I started questioning my religion when I got in the seventh grade. I don't know why I did that particular year. I guess it has a lot to do with just growing up and finding out who I am. I began to wonder if "god" was real. For a while, I tried to hold on to him. He was my staple that put things into perspective and helped me make decisions. I prayed when I started doubting him, and hoped I would get answers. I never did.

I remember one distinct sermon that stuck in my head for a long time. It was about homosexuals, and how that was one of the greatest sins. People weren't meant to be intimate with those of the same sex and it was wrong to do so. This was one of those sermons that my preacher got really into, slamming his fists into the podium to make his point. It scared me more than normal, and the more I thought about it, the more it angered me. I don't think I had ever personally encountered a homosexual that I was aware of, and I know I hadn't seen anything intimate going on between two people of the same sex, but the fact that he was standing there yelling about how it was so wrong to do so really started to upset me. Homosexuals were people too, right? And you were supposed to love and respect everyone you came across, right? That's what he, the man standing there banging his fists, red in the face, yelling about how this was so wrong, had taught me all my life. It really hurt me, and it bothered me that it hurt me.

That was one of the last sermons I heard from that preacher. And I haven't thought the same of the church since. In the seventh grade, when I started questioning if this "god" was real, I kept thinking on that one particular sermon. While I was questioning the religion I was brought up in for the first time, I was also still very young and trying to figure out who I was. I was figuring out that I was attracted to girls in the same way I had been attracted to boys, and due to my religious back ground, that was incredibly wrong.

I think the worst feeling in the world for me was to realize I was attracted to women in the same way 'normal' women were attracted to men.  I tried really hard for a long time to just drop it and to not acknowledge any of my attractions to women.

During that time, I stayed a lot with my best friend and her family. Her mom didn't have a full time job so she was always around to talk to. You could say, in short, that her mom's views were very different from those of my family. She was liberal, first off, and she believed that everyone was equal. My parents are very conservative republicans and tend to think some people are lesser than others. Since I spent a lot of time with her and since this was during the time that I was developing my own views (not that I am through that phase, I don't think everyone actually finishes that phase) many of my views today are much like hers, and unlike my parents. She was very accepting of homosexuals and didn't think they were any different than any other person. I think when she vocalized this view to me I realized that maybe the religion I has spent all my life believing in may have been wrong.

I started doubting my baptist upbringing. I felt bad for a while because I was always taught never to question "god"; that he had a plan for everything. Well if that were true, then wasn't his plan for me like women? And if that was true, why was someone telling me I was wrong to do so? See how this contradicts itself? Granted, all of this was going on in my head when I was 13 years [young].

I started reading the bible. Before I gave up believing in something that I had always put faith in, I decided I should do some research first. The bible is one of the hardest things I have ever tried reading (tried, being unsuccessfully). For someone in the seventh grade the language is hard to comprehend and the characters are hard to follow. What I did get however, were contradictions. So many, in fact, that over half the story doesn't make much sense. I didn't understand how in the bible the Ten Commandments, those rules Christians are supposed to follow, were broken, but how in 'real life' it's a mortal sin to even think of breaking them. 


I guess, to me, its just simpler to go by the 'golden rule' than the many rules the bible says to follow.  The rule that states you should do unto others as you would have them do unto you. That generally is the rule I try to follow and so far it's worked.

The bible is a book. Its a long, difficult, poorly written book. That's just how I see it.

Now, I know that seeing what I just wrote is going to set many people off. Its an opinion that I have every right to have, just like you have right to think otherwise. You choose to be religious, in the same way that I choose not to be.