The World of Before You

One of the most important things I try to do on my website is present the truth.

Today my truth is hard. It’s humiliating. It’s painful. And, this is what it looks like…

Not pretty. Not happy. Not peaceful or well-loved or anything positive.

That is the face of someone who just found out the man she has loved with her whole heart for 5 1/2 years cheated on her and lied to her. It happens to women all around the world every, single day. And, it happened to me about an hour ago.

Men cheat. Women cheat. Same goes for lying. But, both have disastrous consequences on the people for whom we care. And, that picture…that’s just the tip of the iceberg.

Now, I have such wonderful things to look forward to in the next few days. How long was he lying? Was it about everything? How in the world do I ever trust a man again? Why in the world would I want to?

Am I an idiot? I still cannot fathom the man I held up so high is at his core a liar and a cheater. It is baffling to me to even connect those words with my Lion.

Again, my website is real. It’s not meant to do anything other than give the women and men who read it a feeling that we are all in it together. So, I’m balancing the beauty of this wonderful life I live with the bitchslap I just received in a 3-sentence email.

Even though it’s hard.

I want all of you to know, it is another thing I will understand. Continue writing to me about anything. I guess, now, I can add “he cheated on me and wrote me an email” to that list.

Upon my arrival into Zürich’s main train station, I ran into one of about 18,000 of my “friends” here in this city. Couldn’t remember her name, but recall she does like the parties Bubs and I throw.

She said, “LA, you look good. Very good. Did you do some work?” and proceeded to gesticulate in the facial area.

I laughed and said “no.” Liv said later, “It was definitely a compliment.”

After the past few months, I think it is safe to say, I had the complete opposite of “work done.”

But, one very important thing happened to me while I was away. It wasn’t permission from anyone or the emergence of a new person in my life or any one Cooper or Wyatt or Angel or Giovanni hug.

There was this morning on May 22nd when I woke up. The stress and crippling anxiety that had broken my back and neck felt dissipated, in some way. The terror to open my emails – gone. The fear to put a foot on the floor and start my day – gone. The hopeless feeling – gone.

The emergence of a future, of possibility – present.

It’s a lesson to any of you reading this. What keeps you from bolting out of bed? What stops you from embracing some dream you want and letting the HELL go of things that are weighing you down? Why? Why wait?

What are you waiting FOR?

The “did you have work done” comment is only a point. As I told two of my dearest friends here, both of whom can’t quite put their fingers on why I look different, “I look like myself.” I look like I used to. See the girl below? That’s me.

No work done. No miracle cure.

Just happy.

“The pain then is a part of the happiness now…the happiness then is a part of the pain now.”

It’s something that struck me immediately when first I saw Shadowlands.

Joy has innate suffering in it. You order the number one “joy special,” you get a “side of pain,” like it or not. It might be shortly after you’ve devoured your joy special or it might be 40 years later. So, when you come to the cashier, it’s a matter of willingness. Are you willing to experience the joy at the cost of the pain suffered when the joy is over? Do you look for the “30 seconds of wonderful vs. a lifetime of nothing special” (Steel Magnolias) or not?

For example, people say expats are either running away from something or running to something. (As usual, I am the exception to the rule.) I am very forthright: I am doing both. Running away from pain and running to, what I hope will be, happiness. Happiness I could not possibly find in a place full of painful ghosts – dead and alive.

I love the ghosts, and that was C.S. Lewis’ problem as well. He loved the ghosts, both his wife, named Joy, and the idea of a future with her. His pain after her death was, as he noted, a part of the happiness they’d shared. She said the reverse before she died. It’s true. They are an inextricable deal – a 1 for 1.

As adults, we have to put childish ways behind all the time, even when the “childish” way feels more natural or comfortable to us than the alternative way. Pining after a dream that could never materialize or a family that was not capable of staying together or a love that just could not be – it’s a painful way to live…and it is child-like.

Putting a positive spin on that loss, perhaps a simple acknowledgment that the joy/pain relationship is challenging, as Mom said, “forever” is enough of a catharsis to be put it behind. Forever. Be drastic. Be bold. Forge a new path toward happiness.

No, I’m not suggesting everyone move to Switzerland (for God’s sake, please fully examine the reality of that decision). I am suggesting that letting go of that “dream” or connection to a life that is…well…not, might lead you to that 30 seconds of wonderful. 30 seconds you will never get if you don’t let go of the ghosts.

(Only 9 sleeps to go…

)

http://wp.me/p2dSt7-dT… I do not like this day. My father may have reinvented the clock, but the truth is that my grandfather died on my birthday.

Some peoples’ lives begin with the date May 21st (like mine).

Some peoples’ lives end with the date May 21st (like Rowe Jackson Ayres, Senior).

Freddie Mercury, Queen, and David Bowie also came up with one of my favorites songs on May 21st in 1982. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YoDh_gHDvkk Found that tidbit  when I was exercising my “pretend like it’s not your birthday and honor Pop” birthday last year in Montreux, Switzerland. Also made Monsie cry. Anyway…

Yes, every year, as I’ve said, I try to do something to make Pop proud. This year was not hard. I was with the apple of his eye, Little Boy Blue (“Brother”), and two of Pop’s grandsons. Pop would have loved his grandsons. As I looked at Wyatt this morning, I saw this little sparkle in his eye that reminded me of Pop’s somewhat naughty side. He sure did love packing us in the bed of their truck, and encouraging Mimi to drive faster to seek out the potholes.

But, this year was far more serious. Pop loved his son more than any father I’ve ever seen. That is both good and bad. Pop’s generation loved via control and that was hard on my Dad. I know that.  Nevertheless, the last face Pop saw was the face of his beloved son, my father. Why? My father loved his dad. Somewhere inside, he knows his father was trying, so hard, to be the best father he could be. My dad’s “forgiveness” quotient is high (but, so is his “anger” quotient. Maybe they are tied together?).

Dad and I are not having the easiest time (attention: gross understatement). This is tough on almost everyone (including Brother, Slovak Brother, Godfather, and Momma).

When Dad suggested Thursday, May 21st as the day to have breakfast, I said, “ok.” I said “ok” because I knew that Pop would be happy.

And I know he was. (And Dad and I had a nice breakfast, didn’t we?)

It’s another May 21st when I know my …. Music Appreciation, Enrico Caruso “Nessun Dorma”-loving, WRR at its beginning, SMU grad, valedictorian of his HS, poetry adoring and memorizing, biscuit-making, turning a beautiful dining room into a storage room, visiting-his-bride-in-her-nursing-home-every-freaking-day, Jack Ayres Jr.-adoring, loving grandfather…would’ve been proud of me.

God knows, he would be THRILLED I am finally entering law school. “It’s not Baylor?” he would’ve said. But, he’d still be proud. When I told him I was going to grad school in NYC he said, “I reckon that’s a change.” True. So is this.

“Princess Wawie. I am proud.” I can hear him say. I feel finished with this May 21st and hopeful next year will not be so sad.

**

I hear Brother’s voice right now. I know he’s going to get a text about this. I know he’ll be happy. That’s a great feeling.

Dude. Hope is such a fickle little lady, isn’t she?

Many people walk down tunnels far darker and longer than the one I’ve been walking down for the past decade (okay, 6 years…feels like a decade). There’s very little to say to someone who has been through some of this stuff and I cannot count how many times I’ve heard, “there’s a silver lining to every cloud” and “when God shuts a door, he always opens a window.” If it’s possible to projectile vomit a silver lining onto a closed door, I would have.

The real problem is how one talks to someone in a tunnel. To get out of the tunnel, one needs light and hope. That usually has to come from within, so you can’t really “talk someone into” feel hopeful about getting out of a tunnel. They have to decide they’re going to give it that proverbial last (or 99th) shot.

In my case, which is not actually unique, Hope doesn’t seem to know if she wants me in or out of this damn tunnel. I have a TON of light (refer to myself as the Ambassador of Sunshine and people mockingly call me “PollyLauraAnnea”), so I’m stocked up on that. But, Hope’s hope is killing me. Every time I think she’s leading me out of this freaking tunnel, I get whacked in the head. I think I’ve found the exit sign and then Hope decides, “Nope. Not yet. Keep walkin’ sister.”

What’s the lesson? When do I graduate? When is it finally enough? We all have these questions during our lives. The reality of hope is tough because the coin is so beautiful on one side and so painful on the other. Lost hope hurts in your bones. Hope fulfilled is ecstasy.

Ah, Hope – what a lady. I intensely dislike her because she makes me tired and weary, and exposes me to fairly constant rejection. But, I still love her and cling to her. Hope’s golden ring is something that seems to make me stronger in my character, my humanity, and my faith. A worthy reason to…keep Hope alive.

It’s like this scene: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jwlYo8EYTWI

😉