I’ve never even touched a cigarette

So. My story is not as dramatic as Sarah’s. Haven’t read hers? You should. I’d link to it here, but you’d probably go and read it. And you’d likely never return. It’s quite gripping. (Maybe I’ll give you another shot later.)

My story is so undramatic that it’s difficult to know how to tell it. What to mention. What to leave out. I was the good girl. I didn’t drink. I didn’t smoke. No drugs. No parties. No dates. I’ve never even touched a cigarette. My mom says that when I reached age 5 the hard parts of raising me were over. (Really? Mom? Really?)

Perhaps I was too good? Growing up, I basically lived in fear. Fear was my greatest motivation for being good and staying good. Fear of mistakes. Of rejection. Of the unknown. Fear of consequences. I also didn’t have a whole lot of nagging curiosity about much. Drugs. Alcohol. Sex. The prom. (No, I didn’t go.) Maybe I was happy? Mostly I was naive. It served me well. To a point.

My struggles have always been internal. The inner dialogue never stops. I don’t like to ask for help. I don’t like to even NEED help. Which leaves me with a lot of figuring to do on my own. (I do accept offers of help, however. And, yes, I realize this is absolutely irrational and an utterly ridiculous contradiction.)

But. This blog has made me braver. Having a place to write honestly and with confidence has made all the difference. THINKING about writing on a daily basis has given me something that I was missing. (Thinking!) And so I’ve been thinking about my ABOUT. I’ve been thinking a lot about who I am. How do I describe myself? What is my history? My instinct is to start with the first time I met J. With the first moment I saw him, strolling down the hall toward me at work. October 1996. It’s like a film. So cliched. Playing in slow motion in my mind. He walking down the hall in his jeans. Me, sitting in my office chair, peeking out from my cubicle, watching him come toward me. I can see him. I can see me.

But. So much happened BEFORE that moment. I lived for 24 years before then. I just can’t sum up that time in an ABOUT ME that feels right. The schools I attended. The friends that I had. The fact that I was a serious dancer and a decent student and an athlete and a GOOD GIRL. All of that plays a part in my history. But it all seems SO SO far away. And the moment in October 1996 is such a turning point. Was such a turning point. And maybe because I didn’t recognize it as such then, I am more apt to go back there first now. Or. Maybe because–whether related or not to all of my fear and not-doing–I always knew that what I wanted most was a good relationship. And a family. And it happened. Maybe that’s why this is the moment. This office encounter that led to a first date 20 months later and grew into the life that I live now. Maybe.

My story is not as dramatic as Sarah’s. It has some more interesting parts. And I’ll probably share more in time. But really, I have everything I want—and the truth of this seems more remarkable than how it happened. J has given me us. Children. A home. Happiness. Love. All of that mushy stuff that you can’t collect or hoard or account for from day to day. We have wants and needs and imperfections, of course. We each have personal goals we’d like to achieve. And we aren’t full of glee daily. But we also have perspective. We recognize the good that we have chosen and the good that we have created.

Somehow, even though I didn’t take the risks growing up, I know the consequences now. Losing my dad. Sarah’s addiction. Falling in love. Surviving J’s heart attack. Becoming a mother. Continuing as a mother! All have been major forces in my life. And every experience has played a part in who I am now. So I’ll keep thinking about ABOUT, and I’ll eventually get something a little more interesting up there. In the meantime, go read about Sarah. We’re sisters, and we’re very different.