Floaters

I picked up the newest Vanity Fair when I did a Target run on Sunday. It was practically begging for me to buy it because they cleverly placed Jennifer Lawrence on the cover. If you haven't heard me gush about her, she's totally my girl crush. We're best friends in my alternate reality. Surprisingly enough, however, this post is not about her. Although I probably should do one about her. Seeing since we're sparkle friends and all. *Sigh*.......I have a problem......

The real inspiration from this post comes from another recent pop culture heroine- Lena Dunham. The magazine does a quick review of her life and how she has been able to be an honest social commentator about what it's like to be a 20-something "girl", trying to make it in a post-Sex and the City New York. But what struck me was the term that Europeans use to refer to people like me, you, and others like us: the floating generation. It is defined as, "young people over-educated for the employment they can find, if they can find it, whose lives have stalled on the cusp of adulthood".

Balls. If that doesn't make perfect sense, I don't know what does.

I don't know about you, but, I definitely feel like a floater. As hard as I try to be tethered or get picked up on some sort of gust, it just wasn't happening. Or, I get picked up and then my winds change and I'm back to floating in the great abyss of life. I want so badly to be tethered. Or do I?

I look at some other people that I know who, for the sake of this post, seem "tethered" and I feel jealous. They know exactly where they'll be, how strong their strings are and that they'll be able to weather whatever storm comes their way. I can't tell you how many times I've tried to get myself tied down, in one way or another. I was always the girl who had A Plan...or thought I did anyway. No matter how secure I felt, Life has always sent a hurricane my way and I'm caught up in all sorts of bustle and blow. But now that I look back, I'm not sure if I'm really all that sad or feel I missed out on something.

If we're looking at things half full here, I'm actually kind of lucky. I get/got my time to really just be. To figure out where I want to go and be able to choose which direction I want to blow. Instead of switching from one tether to another, I got to let go. Don't get me wrong, that TERRIFIES me every.single.time. Like, I'm talking sobbing breakdowns, eating feelings, the whole works. I hate it. I hate not having direction. I also feel that I'm kind of looked down upon. I mean, the definition says it perfectly: my life "...stalled on the cusp of adulthood". I had to move back in with my parents at 23. I had to take a job that really didn't stimulate my inner creative. Then the person who I thought was the love of my life was taken from me. I felt like I had nothing. I had failed 18 year old Rachel who had SUCH aspirations for herself. Not to mention, who swore she would never come back to this awful county. I had let her down and I didn't know which way was up.

....wait. Wasn't I supposed to be looking at things half full?

Well, my friends, my winds have changed. It looks like I may not be a "floater" any longer. I've recently been offered a new position as the Sales and Marketing Administrator/Coordinator for a national homebuilder. I'll be working in Columbia and moving back to BALTIMORE!!!!!!!!! I can't tell you how excited I am! All of this has literally fallen into my lap and I am beyond grateful. I honestly don't know what to do with myself. And this time has been so easy. I haven't had to grit my teeth and try to fit circles into squares to make things work. It hasn't been as easy as breathing but it's been close enough. It's nice, this feeling. This feeling of not having to work SO hard to make things work. And while I'm so very sad to say goodbye to my family, friends, and friends who have become my family, I am over the moon about this new chapter in my life.

I am finally starting to enjoy this ride called life.

New Year

I know I'm a little late, given we're three weeks into the new year but better late than never, no?

I feel I needed to write this post because this new year really means something important to me- a new life. Not only are the ending numbers of the year changing, but, so am I. I am leaving 2012 Rachel in the year she needs to stay. The hellish, awful, just plain terrible year that was 2012. My plan is to leave the hurt, the anger and the pain behind. Or at least try to anyway.

A couple days ago I was having a rough day. Nothing really bad happened, but, thoughts of Chris decided to assault my brain. It started when I was getting ready for work. I can't really remember what the specific memories and thoughts were but they were the type that got me angry. I do remember that a fair amount of the memories were about what Grandma Crazy said about/to me on Facebook and what I would have said to her if I could have. This happened all morning. It got to the point that I actually had to yell out loud in my car, "GET OUT OF MY HEAD! I DON'T WANT THESE THOUGHTS! YOU'RE NOT ALLOWED!". It's amazing how well voicing your thoughts can overpower the "silent" ones. Even when the "silent" ones tend to be the loudest.

This continued most of the day until, finally, when I got home I was just in a plain bad headspace. Not to mention we hadn't seen the sun for, like, 7 days so I think that got to me, too. I left to go to rehearsal and ended up having to go to WaWa. Well, the way it works best for me is I had to drive past where Grandma C lives. I'd say about half a mile before I drove past the neighborhood (which is actually the same neighborhood were my dad grew up), the right side of my brain started to hurt really bad and it continued until about a half a mile past the neighborhood. I told my mom this and she suggested that perhaps it was Chris trying to get my attention. And I told her, as well as perhaps Chris if he was being a sneaky passenger, that he needed to "Leave me the fuck alone because I don't want him around yet". I know what you're thinking and yes- I am dazzling in my eloquence. I am totally a word wizard (side note- I definitely used the term "badassery" in a sentence the other day. 10 points to Gryffindor). But I digress.

At rehearsal I was wonky given my current mental annoyance and it just wasn't good. And then I go to leave and check my phone and the father of another ex who had passed away called me. At that point, I just threw my phone in my purse and told all ex-boyfriends to LEAVE ME ALONE! And then I cried. All the way home.

But! No big. I've felt fine since then and I've actually got some great news. And in typical Out of the Lion's Den fashion, I can't tell you yet. Don't you just LOVE me? I am probably going to announce it next week because I really am bursting at the seams to share. The future is looking bright for this gal!

Can the 2013 Golden Globes win all the awards? AKA this is just a post full of GIFs

No seriously. That award show deserves an award. There was so much AWESOME happening the entire time!

I always look forward to the Golden Globes because, to me, this award show seems to be the most fun. Everyone pokes fun at each other and gets white-girl-wasted (because, lets face it, everyone is too much of a diva to react any other way when wasted). Plus this show is a really awesome way to hedge your Oscar bets. Whoever wins a Golden Globe typically ends up winning an Oscar for the same category. Unless you're Ben Affleck who ultimately gets the last laugh with "Argo" because eeeeeeeeeeeeveryone knows he got snubbed. Way to make things awkward, Academy.

First of all, bravo Tina Fey and Amy Poehler! These ladies were fan-fucking-tastic. Seriously. I think they really set the bar for the evening and that's why this year in particular seemed extra fun. They judge JUST enough without crossing into Ricky Gervais territory. Like this, for example,

 

And then basically telling Daniel Day-Lewis that he looks like E.T...

way to be a good sport!

 OMG I diiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiied when they did Tina and Amy's category...

And this after Lena Dunham beat both of them...

 Finally, this. Just....this.

Tina and Amy just need to host everything, ever. Case closed.

Next, Jennifer Lawrence is my girl.

Finally, this...

You can watch the whole thing here. And you need to.

Now, my next favorite thing about this night is the fashion! As always, there were some amazing outfits and some that were just plain awful (I'm looking at you, Halle Berry). Here are my favorites of the night...

 DAYUM HELEN MIRREN! This is just fantastic! I love everything about this look, even her hair. I thought she looked absolutely gorgeous while still looking fun. Love, love, LOVE!

  I think Kate Hudson's look was by-far my favorite of the night. I just wish she had put her hair up. That neck detail needed to be shown off. Plus, since her hair is blonde the neck just got lost in a sea of gold and blonde. It's hard to tell where the neck ends and her hair begins.

 As much as it pains me to say this, I actually liked this look on JLo. No surprise that she went for the almost naked look for the millionth time but I guess when you find a look that works for you, you work it hard. Ps, girl needs to smile more. This isn't 2003 and you're not as popular as you once were. We can only take you serious if you're dating Diddy and not diddling with some dancer named after a ghost.

 Ooooooooooh I loved this, which surprised me. I haven't been a fan of the leotard dresses this season but Eva werks this one. This is a bad angle but when she was on stage she look FABULOUS!

 Again, this picture just does not do this dress justice. Jessica was STUN-NING!

 I just adore Kelly Osborne. Her body looks amazing and she's so proud of it! She looks like a mermaid and I die for that dress!

 I'm probably the only person who liked this dress. I thought it looked amazing on her and I tend to be a fan of wallpaper prints. Call me crazy but I love it. I just wish she had done something different with her hair. A chignon or a twist would have complimented this dress perfectly.


As for my worst dressed list...

 Ugh, that damn peplum. Nothing about this is flattering. Maybe the powder blue against her skin but that is it. The way the top is cut makes her look very broad and as if it's too small for her. The waist line makes her look hippy because of the peplum while the column skirt makes her look as if she has no shape at all. This is just all around bad.

Ugh, yawn, Adele. Again, she's sticking with what works for her but we literally see this at every appearance. Can we please see something new?

No, Halle Berry. Just....no.

I'm sooooooooooo disappointed in Jessica Chastain! Like, what is this?! It looks like she's going to a toga party! Not to mention this Calvin Klein dress makes her boobs look saggy. And then with the hair. Just, no. Not a good look at all.

Oh Lena. Lena, Lena, Lena. I'm proud of you for trying but, honey, no. Everything about this Zac Posen dress is all wrong for her. Not to mention that she was incapable of walking any time she got up. I loved this quote, "Judging by her awkward shuffles to the stage, two-time winner Lena Dunham immediately regretted wearing ice skates." Yes. That's EXACTLY what she looked like! I don't know if it was the girth of the dress or that her heel choice was too much for her. I love her show but girlfriend needs some help.

In her own category, Ms. Taylor Swift brought along her newest accessory- The Bitch Face.

o

The newly single songtress was working that look all night long. I wasn't particularly thrilled with her outfit choice especially since jilted and bitter aren't colors that work well on most people, Taylor included.

When she lost for Best Song

You can't always win, Taylor. This isn't the CMT awards.

Ew. I'm sure she's trying to be funny but it's not really translating. Although that could just be because I'm not a huge fan of hers. Sorry, Taylor. Bitch Face is best worn when you know you're a part of the group, not still working your way in.


I don't even know where to begin with Jodie Foster's acceptance speech for the DeMille award. From what I gather she came out without actually coming out and that she possibly wants to start making dog whistles? Oh and her mom has Alzheimers or Dementia. THAT I got. And that she's not Honey Boo Boo and she wants to spank Daniel Craig. Me too, lady, but what does that have to do with anything?

Finally, if nothing else about The Golden Globes gets you going, have a look at this...

You're welcome.

Until next year!!!!

Shameless Promotion Post

That's right everyone! The time has come for some show promotion!

If you follow me on instagram or have the privilege of being besties on good 'ol FB, you've been getting all kinds of inside looks of the rehearsal process. I am BEYOND excited to be a part of this show and I fully expect each and every one of you to come see it. Here's a brief synopsis of the show...

"(Comedy)  Part of Neil Simon's autobiographical trilogy, Brighton Beach Memoirs, provides a portrait of the writer as a young teen in 1937 living with his family in a crowded, lower middle-class Brooklyn walk-up. Eugene Jerome, a Polish-Jewish American teenager is going through puberty, a sexual awakening and search for identity all while dealing with his intense family. Eugene’s formidable mother, overworked father, and his worldly older brother Stanley create a unique living environment. Throw into the mix his widowed Aunt Blanche, her two young (but rapidly maturing) daughters and you have a recipe for hilarity, served up Simon-style. This bittersweet memoir evocatively captures the life of a struggling Jewish household where, as his father states "if you didn't have a problem, you wouldn't be living here.'" (Compliments of the PTP website)

You can go here for tickets or call and make reservations.

Family photo, minus Laurie

See you at the Beach!

Are you there, God? It's me, Rachel.

I always love using that title.

I'm not sure if you know this about me, but, I'm a very practical person. Shocking, I know, given my affinity for ridiculously priced shoes and grandiose ideas of being famous for SOMETHING. But really, I am. That's why I don't own said shoes and I'm still living in Small Town, USA........for the time being. I have found that I am this way in pretty much every facet of my life. Even religion.

Now, I do consider myself a religious person. I am a confirmed Catholic and go to church on a fairly normal basis. I have many friends who are very devout, while also having friends that consider themselves more "spiritual" rather than religious.I also have friends that don't believe in a higher power, which is fine. I totally get it's different strokes for different folks. I was brought up in a household where we were taught to ask questions. Catholicism is ALL ABOUT the free will so we were taught to exercise it to its fullest extent when it came to gaining knowledge. Believe in something, but make sure you fully understand it to the best of your abilities. So, in true family fashion, I was the poster CCD child (CCD, for you non-Catholic heathens, is Sunday School with a fancy name. Also in true Catholic fashion, I don't remember what it stands for). I did my homework, I knew all my prayers and I participated in heated debate. I also told my 6th grade teacher that she was a bad person when I asked if my pets would be in Heaven and she promptly informed me that dogs don't go to Heaven. She clearly hadn't seen the movie and didn't know my dog. I also was thrown out of class in 7th grade because I got into a debate with my teacher as to whether or not I was being a "good" Catholic by not reading this thing at Mass where the congregation was the mob choosing for Jesus to die. I believe my words were, "...but I, as Rachel, was not there and did not make that choice. So I shouldn't have to be made to feel bad about it". I didn't get the memo about the Catholic guilt, so, I was asked to leave. Which was fine because I didn't want any stupid pizza anyway, Mr. H. But, still, I had/have my faith and truly believe that I always will. Even when it is tested, though it may not be up to optimum strength.

I don't know about you, but, I can honestly say that I don't think I've had a true religious experience. You know, the type where you hear/feel the voice of God or a deceased loved one giving you a message or encouraging you one way or another. I've had dreams before, but none of the prophetic kind. And to be honest, they were still kind of confusing and left me with more questions than closure. Which is hard, particularly in my situation. All I've wanted is a message from the beyond or a soothing feeling from God when I needed it most. I don't know if I haven't been listening loud enough or openly enough, but, I don't feel that I've gotten one. I can't tell you how many times I've been sobbing in the bathroom, repeating my Our Fathers or Hail Marys until I can't speak anymore and I haven't felt anything. No warm hand on my shoulder, no burning bath towel in lieu of a bush, nothing.

At first, I wasn't able to talk to God. I remember laying in my bed after I forced myself to take a shower those first few days, and I asked my friend J (she was staying with me) if she thought God would be mad at me if I didn't talk to him for a few days. She assured me that he wouldn't so I didn't. I felt that I couldn't ask him for anything at that moment. I just didn't have it in me. But I came around. And I remember that in conversations that I had with people in the beginning, I would tell them that I wasn't mad at God. That I more-so clung to him and my religion more than ever. I wouldn't say that is true anymore.

Now, don't get me wrong. I'm not denouncing the existence of God nor my religion itself, so don't freak out! I'm just much more comfortable saying now that I'm frustrated. I wouldn't say angry, because, for me, I know what it means when I'm angry at someone. I'm very absolute with my anger, there is no middle. And I don't necessarily feel that way at God. Frustrated though? Oh hell yes. Because like, God- WTF, BRO?!

I guess I need to explain what prompted this religious confession and confusion. I recently started reading "Eat Pray Love". And when I say recently, I mean today. In the beginning where she is kind of laying out her situation, she talks about her sobbing in her bathroom (By the way, the bathroom seems to be THE place for crying.) and she has her first real conversation with God. She is sobbing and praying for him to tell her what to do. She then describes hearing/feeling "her" voice, in a way that she's never heard/felt it before, telling her to go back to bed. She then explains that she felt that that was God telling her what she needed to hear at that moment. Reading that reduced me to tears.

I've also recently had a conversation with a friend of mine who told me about her brother's passing in the last month. She explained to me the situation and then she told me that she heard/felt her brother's voice telling her that he was okay and that she didn't need to be upset or worried. When I drove home that night, I cried.

A few months ago, my mom told me that she felt Chris around. That she felt specific feelings. I told her that I didn't want to know and I cried.

Noticing a trend?

All of these instances, which should bring me hope and comfort, reduce me to a crumpling, teary mess and are like a serrated knife to the chest. None of it makes me feel good. Why? Because I haven't felt any of it. I have been so desperate for a comforting word or a feeling and I haven't gotten anything. Not that I really deserve it, but, dammit! I deserve it! I've done my best to be faithful and to not be angry at God. I don't want to be angry at God. He didn't do all this crap (granted, I'm sure his hand was in it in some way) but like, c'mon! And then on top of that, a month or so back, I was feeling particularly crappy this one Sunday. So, I felt that my soul needed to be nourished and that I would get my message. Because when I started to REALLY go to church again, every Sunday it was like the sermon was meant for me. It was everything I needed to hear and sometimes, everything I didn't know I needed to hear. So of course, I figured that would make everything better. Well, the Gospels start to be read and it's the freaking story of how woman was created from man and all those other sappy Gospels that they read at weddings. I felt like I had been slapped in the face. And Father D's sermon was no better! I literally cried the entire time I was at church. I didn't need to hear that, at all. And to be honest, I hadn't been back to church since, until Christmas Eve. Which really was no better because that message made me cry, too. AND there was a couple that was in our Pre-Cana class. ALL KINDS OF AWESOME.

Maybe this is partly my fault. Maybe I don't have my heart open enough. But the idea of completely opening my heart, even to God, is terrifying. I'll try just a little and I can literally feel one of side of my heart tearing into the other to keep from being separated. I guess I'm being stubborn and waiting for The Sign to show that God is listening and hasn't forsaken one of his children (I don't really think he has but that was nice for dramatic effect, no?). I now, more than ever, need the reassurance that I'm not alone. I am loved and cared for and that there is a reason.

Maybe that's part of this lesson. To learn what it really means to have faith. That you still have it when it's tested. Ugh....do you know what that must mean? I have to be patient to get the pay off.

Gross. I suck at being patient.

Christmas Card

Hello my lovelies!

I know I'm always saying this, but, I am sorry for the delays in posting. But! That's a sign of a somewhat busy social life so GO ME!

Things have been going well. The holidays have made things a teensy bit crazy but I'm doing okay. I think there have only been maybe two days that I've actually felt sad about where my life is now. I know that sounds kind of bad, especially since I should be sad about who is missing from my life. But I'm still angry. I'll probably be angry for a long time. And as unhealthy as long-term anger is, it's been making this process easier. I'm not clutching my "What Should Have Been's" and what we had any more. Trust me, my self-deprecating humor and penchant for making those around me uncomfortable with my jokes is still here. I mean c'mon, how could you NOT joke about my situation? I'm one locked-up-in-the-basement situation away from a complete Lifetime movie. And yes; I fully expect Neve Campbell or Jennifer Love Hewitt to play me. Dopplegangers say whaaaaaaaaaaat?!?!

Those of you who are friends with me on FB and follow me on Instagram have already been informed, but, for those of you who don't know, I got cast in a show! I play Nora in "Brighton Beach Memoirs" at Port Tobacco Players! This is my first speaking role since I did "A Midsummer Night's Dream" in 2006 and I couldn't be happier. This show is amazing, the cast is amazing and the management staff is amazing. The show opens January 25th and runs until February 10th. Expect lots of shameless promotion and demands for YOU to come see it. Did I mention I have to speak in a Brooklyn Jewish accent? Priceless.

Now, I'm sure you saw the title of this post and are perhaps curious as to what Christmas card I am referring to. Given how things have gone for me this year, you might be expecting that Grandma Crazy Pants sent me a Christmas Card. While that would be appropriate and expected, that isn't what it is. This is my Christmas Card to you.

So many of you have been so supportive and loving through this entire process. And while it isn't over, I can't express to you how much I appreciate each and every one of you. I would have never imagined this for myself but I'm glad it happened. It has given me a glimpse into so many hearts and minds that I would never have gotten the chance to experience had it not happened. You all have such beautiful hearts and I am so blessed to have such a stupendous support system. I wish that I could have written each of you a beautiful note but I probably would get instant arthritis and it would take me about 5 hours, every day, for three weeks. But just know that I appreciate you. I thank you. And I love you.

I hope you have the Merriest of Christmases, Happiest of Hanukkahs, Kewlest of Kwanzas, Rocking-est of Solstices and whatever else you cah-razay kids celebrate. You guys are the tits and I love the shit out of you.

Lying Is the Most Fun a Guy Can Have Without Taking His Clothes Off

I'm actually kind of nervous to write this post, which is hilarious given the murderous rage its subject matter has incited time and time again since I've found out. I've disabled the comments because frankly, I'm tired of everyone dropping bombs on me. I'm tired of people telling me things that they think will help me when all it has done is tear me apart. Especially whoever LoveABlackCat is (even though I'm pretty sure I know who you are), leave me alone. I don't want any part of what you are, who you are or what you have to say. I am beyond done. Finished.

And I have every right to be. This is my life and I have a right to say what I have to say.

Well, now that that ominous disclaimer has been thrown out there, I'm not sure if you all saw my post The Fool, but the profile named above left a comment on that post that read:

 He was married a second time and it was a contract marriage. None of the family knew until the day before the funeral. She was at the funeral, but stayed in the background to spare you any more pain. She didn't even know he was dead until days before the funeral, that's how much they were a 'couple'. He filed for a divorce a week before he died. He loved YOU.

Haha.....that.....I can't even tell you how much that comment did NOT make me feel better. I'll have you know that after I read that, I cried so hard that I had to leave work and go talk to my cousin for the better part of two hours. So hard that my father debated driving to come get me to take me home. Ripped in half. Disgusted. Confused. Ruined. That's what that comment did. I clearly can't have any part of this to be mine. At all. And I thought about it and I knew EXACTLY what this girl looked like. I remember clear as day turning around to watch the processional (of his remains in a fucking gift box, which I was not told that was happening until AFTER the funeral), and I saw a girl there who I did not recognize. At that moment, I remember feeling my warning bells go off. Who is that girl? I've never seen her before. Why is she here by herself? And I made note that day that I hadn't seen her at the reception. And I've never seen her again. I mean, why would I have those feelings that day? Now everything makes perfect sense. 

The balls of that girl. I mean....I can't get over it. The complete and utter gall to even THINK that she should have been there. To watch my skin scream to try to keep me together. To try to keep me from falling to pieces on the floor. To know that she was LEGALLY Chris' wife when I had his ring on my finger. And what; am I supposed to THANK her for keeping away from me to "spare pain"? Thank you, dear mystery wife of Chris. Thank you for doing your part in this yarn of lies. Thank you for staring me in the eye as you plunged yet another knife into my still-beating heart. What's left of it. Thank you for ruining another part of Chris that I so desperately clung to. I can't thank you enough.

Now, when did he marry this girl you ask? According to my very reliable source, he married her about two weeks before he met me. Here's the kicker. When he told me that he had been married before, I asked him very thorough questions. I asked when the divorced was finalized and if there were any children. I also asked if there was anything else he needed to tell me and he said that he was SUPPOSED to marry this girl for a contract marriage, but he met me and went back to Arizona and told her that he couldn't go through with it. Apparently when he went back to Arizona, he told her he didn't want to do it and filed for divorce and the bitch was being difficult and wouldn't sign papers. He thought that everything had been taken care of when he was shipped off to Iraq. But it wasn't since he found out three weeks before he died that he was still married. So, he deliberately lied. 

Now, if THAT isn't enough, another layer of the onion has been torn off.

Chris cheated. 

I'm not disclosing how many times but it was a handful. But, does it really matter how many? The fact is, he cheated. I've never been cheated on....that I know of. Now, I question everything. Every gift, every endearing word, every touch. I mean, who else wouldn't cheat on me if the one person I loved with my very being, who I was planning on spending my life with would?

How do I know for sure, you ask? Hindsight is always 20/20 my friends.

• A few months prior to all this nonsense, I had felt like I was losing Chris. I didn't know why, but I did. I thought that maybe it was because I had lost a bunch of weight. I know it sounds silly, but, I thought that because I looked different, even though it was for the better, that it created some sort of wedge. Things were just different and I'm very much the type that if there is something different then maybe I'm the one not doing enough. So dumb, I know, but I just wanted to make everything better.
• He started drinking more. A lot more. Granted, that could have been attributed to all the stress he was under, keeping up with all the lying he was doing. 
• It started to become more difficult for him to come up for wedding stuff. He would give me reasons why he couldn't come up, even though he knew they were important.
• I was going to surprise him and drive to GA to visit him and when I told him, he talked me out of it. I had a bit of a medical issue around that time and he used that to his advantage.
• I'm not ashamed to say that I have had HPV before. I mean, seriously, who hasn't? I got it from my first serious boyfriend yeeeeears ago and haven't tested positive for it in 3 years. When I went for my yearly check up in May, I had such a flare that my doctor called to tell me that it came back positive. Again, I turned it all on myself and thought "How could this happen?! I've never tested positive for it while with Chris! How can my body be doing this?". I cried because I was so concerned. 

That last reason makes me feel ashamed of myself. Why didn't I trust my gut and why on earth would I make that positive test my fault? Infidelity never crossed my mind. I mean, I didn't think he had the time. He really had me fooled.

And then recently when I was trying to fall asleep, you know, that time when your brain likes to drop little memory nuggets on you to keep you up at all hours. I remembered something that I had completely brushed off.

I found the evidence in front of his family.

After Chris' belongings were shipped to his family, they had me over to go through his stuff. He had a blanket of mine that my deceased grandmother made for me when I was born as well as countless gifts and movies. Well, as we're all sitting together in the living room, I find a pair of these tacky ass hoop earrings with dangling feathers on them. I picked them up and my face went crimson and hot. I asked everyone, "Whose earrings are these?" and everyone just assumed they were mine. Which, c'mon. Do I look like the type who would wear feathery hoop earrings? I wish I still had them to show you because they were AWFUL! But in that moment, my stomach was in that throat and the world went from beneath my feet. But I talked myself out of it. I thought, "There's no way in hell. When would he have had the time? I would've known. He couldn't have done that to me". And I didn't think of that again. Until now.

Now, the rage that happened was a three level rage. 

• Level 1: Rage that it happened.
• Level 2: Rage that it happened in front of his family.
• Level 3: That this bitch was probably tacky as all hell. I mean, I taught him to have MUCH better taste than that! Taste in fashion translates to taste in women. I TAUGHT HIM TO LIKE BOWTIES FOR CHRIST'S SAKE!

I can't even begin to explain to you how Italian I handled this situation. The night I found all this out, I laughed hysterically. I didn't stop laughing for 2 days. I laughed so much that everyone around me was nervous to talk to me. God bless my father because he knew exactly what I needed. That night he went to go to bed and I said "Before you go to bed, do we have access to a hammer?" "Why?", he asked. "Because I think I need to break something before I go to bed so I don't cry". So, up he got and headed outside. I went up to my room to grab the thing I wanted to break: an engagement gift from Chris' grandparents. It was a picture that I had taken that they had matted and framed. Smashing this would be releasing anger for Chris and his grandmother. Because, as you've seen, she's a nutjob (and that's the nicest thing I can call her). So, I went outside and my dad meets me and says, "Okay. So, we have the hammer (lifts hammer) but with this you have to get closer to what you want to hit and you'll get glass in your face. But with this baseball bat (lifts bat), you'll use more of your body and you'll be farther away". 

I grabbed the shit out of that bat.

He put down a big poster board and laid the picture face down. He says something about whenever I was ready but before he could even get the sentence out, I had already swung and slammed the tip of that louisville slugger into the back of that photo. Glass smashed, the frame crunched, and I felt glorious. By the time I was done it was hard to tell it used to be a picture. I believe my dad told me he was impressed, haha.

That's what was left when I was done.

After that I became incensed. I went up to my room and just started tearing things apart and throwing things in piles. I took out every picture I had framed in my room, fished out every memento I had hidden and pulled out three shirts I had saved that smelled like him. I tore everything apart with my bare hands. The last thing I did was grab a shirt of his that I had saved in a plastic bag. It had the most of his essence left and I have to be honest, I had to pause to think about whether or not I wanted to destroy it. What if I needed it for a day that I got really sad? What if I regret it? But then I thought, if I don't do it now I won't ever do it. And aren't I sad already? Why would I want to take comfort in something/someone who regarded me as nothing. As the 'ol "ball and chain" back in Maryland. The ghost of a fiance. So I grabbed the front of his collar and I relished the sound of the fibers tearing. I finally had an organic sound to what the sound of my heart had made. It felt good.

I haven't really cried since I found out. Up until recently I hadn't cried at all. I was too angry. Too disgusted. I'm still both of those things but I'm starting to feel more. I still don't understand and I will never understand. I have been the most hurt in this situation and all I did was love him unconditionally. All I did was be the best woman, the best partner, the best friend, the best person I could be and everything that can be taken from me has been taken from me. And not only that, I have been accosted and harassed publicly for nothing. For loving him.

I'm partially thankful for this happening. It gave me the final push to help me move on. I'm in the process of selling my engagement ring so that I'm able to leave this place. Many people have asked me if that was something I really wanted to do. If I really wanted to get rid of something so beautiful. I assure them that it is. It is beautiful. It is a beautiful reminder of a broken promise. A promise that has been broken time and time again.

I know this post is going to worry you, but really, I'm okay. I needed time to write this. I wanted to write as soon as I found out but it would have been a lot different. And please, if you have the means to do so, contact me only if it is something positive. As I stated before, if you only want to make comments or "say your piece", save it. Save your time, save your data, save your breath. Because I will not hear it. 

I am done.