Rock bottom

November 3, 2011


I knew when I woke up that morning, this was it. By the end of the day, everything in my life would change. I was tired completely exhausted.

--Growing up, I was an extreme perfectionist. I liked to get things right the first time, I mean, no one wants to fail, but I really could. not. fail. or my life would be over. I strived for the perfect grades and anything under a B was completely unacceptable. These were my own standards. I remember taking Greek at Barton. I was a religion major and Greek was offered but not required. All of my other friends were taking it so I decided to try it out. It was hard. I made a B that semester and my professor told me that she really believed that the second semester I would make an A, just to give it a shot. Well, the second semester I made a B. I cried. No, I bawled. Full fledge 2 year old temper tantrum crying, snot rolling, choking every breath and had I not been in the car heading to my big sisters house, I would have been on the ground kicking and screaming. I did what any girl would do when she was disappointed in herself, I called my best friend. See, Paige and I have this special relationship, one where we can both tell each other exactly how we feel, good or bad, about the other person and we move on. Well that day I needed comfort. I needed my best friend to tell me that I wasn't a failure and just because my best didn't get me an A, I didn't give up, I still tried my hardest and that was something to be proud of. Instead, I got "Andrea, really? Dry it up, I mean this is so stupid. You're crying over a freaking B. I don't want to hear it. Its not like you failed, I don't see what the big deal is." Click. (Looking back, I deserved it. We are still best friends-ha!)

A marriage between husband and wife takes both husband and wife to work. One person can't do all the work while the other does what they want to. They both have to want it to work. There has to be communication. There has to be care and concern for each other and each others needs. There has to be trust. There has to be honesty. There has to be love. You see, that morning, I wasn't necessarily tired due to lack of sleep for the past month. I was tired of giving my all, trying my best, and it still not being enough. I had done everything possible, more than any wife should do, to make her husband happy and it just wasn't enough. I tried being ok with relationships he established with other women, knowing in my heart there was more to it, all the while he claimed they were just good friends. I tried buying him things I knew he wanted, I tried giving him space, I tried blaming myself and nothing seemed to make anything better. Every bit of life was sucked out of me and I was at rock bottom.

Two months before, my Mother in Law gave me the "fireproof" journal so I had been praying and doing special things for Brandon daily. I had also kept a journal of letters each day, praying for our marriage, telling him how much I loved him and how much I wanted so hard to be able to trust him and our marriage to work. It was very humbling, especially when I didnt feel like all of this was my fault, but none the less, I wanted our marriage, or what was left of it, to work. I couldnt fail. How embarrassing would it be to be the first of my friends to get a divorce? I would feel so guilty for having this huge wedding and my family spending all of this money for the perfect day for our marriage not to last. I should've known  better. Hind sight is 20/20.

That Thursday morning I went to work. I didn't stay long before I knew what I had to do. While I had dropped everything, family, friends, events, for him, he couldn't put me first. He couldn't give me the attention and love that I deserved. He compromised our marriage for the last time. There was only one thing left to do. I called Brandon and told him he needed to meet me at home. I left work. On the way home I called Brandon's mom, who knew everything, and 5 words came out of my mouth that I never thought I could say. These 5 words brought me to my knees, left me lonely and helpless. These same 5 words were my road to recovery.

My mother in law answered the phone and before she could even say hello, with tears in my eyes and a huge lump in my throat, I cried out, "I can't do this anymore."



...

All on paper

-Wants kids
-Tall
-Wants kids
-Smart
-Good with his hands
-Has a job
-Responsible
-Honest
-Knows how to treat a woman
-Family values
-Loves his mom
-Preferably out on his own
-Oh yea, Wants kids
-Wants a relationship that could lead to marriage
-Not a deal breaker if he is divorced
-Not a deal breaker if he has kids
-Loves animals

Everyone has a list of what they want their dream guy to be like, give or take. It's so easy to write all of that stuff in, fill in the blanks, pull down the drop box, and rate importance when it comes to looking for your future husband...online. No one knew what I was doing. I decided to make a profile on cupid dot com. I didnt expect anything to come from it, and just like most of you, I thought child predators and rapists were looking for their next victim on these types of things. Against my better judgment, I signed up. I never paid for a membership. I set up my account of who I was, my hobbies, what I liked to do and what I wanted my guy to be like. Because I didnt pay for a membership, all that I was allowed to do was look at other mens profiles and "flirt", or send a smiley face to them to let them know that I was interested. All it took was one to be a member, then they could send a message to the one who didnt pay and then the person could reply back. This is how it all started...

Around the end of July, beginning of August of 2006, I received a message from bkc1122. I dont remember really what was said except that he gave me his number and asked me to call him if I was interested. I freaked. Of course there was no picture of him to go by and now it was obvious he had seen my picture. "Oh. My. Gosh. someone repied. Is he a rapist? Is he going to abduct me? Is he really 26 years old? Is he really from Durham? What do I do? Do I tell anyone?" all of this ran through my head, pretty much all at once. The room starting closing in. I remember my heart racing, I couldn't breathe, and if 78degrees at my grandparents house wasnt hot enough, it felt even hotter.

As I sat in my grandparents living room that night, all alone, with only the light of the computer screen illuminating the room, I decided to write back...


To be continued...

Once upon a child...

Preface:


Starting at a very early age (probably Kindergarten), I knew exactly what I needed to make me happy as an adult: I needed a husband and I needed a baby. I'm not sure how these desires came into play. While all the other girls at the daycare I went to were taking their Barbie to her mansion with her boyfriend Ken, riding around on the floor in her pink convertible, splashing around in her blue inflatable swimming pool and going shopping at the mall made of wooden blocks, my Barbie had a mini pool towel under her dress, going to the hospital, while her husband Ken was rubbing her lumpy belly, to have a baby. I vaguely remember riding home from school on the bus, playing with one of my friends dolls that was actually pregnant and had a little baby in the tummy (if you removed the tummy, you could take the baby out). I coveted that toy. While all the other kids were begging their mom for the latest gadget when they would go to the store, I begged my mom to buy me diapers for my babydolls.

I love kids. I really believe its a calling that not everyone has. No one is the same. Some are called to be parents, some are not, either way, God has gifted all of us differently and doesn't make me any better than those who don't want children. I'm simply stating that if I dont know anything else, I know somehow, something with children is my calling and I pray my calling it to be a mother.

Anyway, back on topic. In highschool, I had the occasional crush but that was all it ever amounted to. I really wasnt interested in any guys I went to school with and if they wouldve shown the least amount of interest in me, I probably would have ignored them and shyed away. All of my friends in school were girls. I didnt trust boys. In middle school, a young black boy would come up behind me when it was my turn to get off of the bus and run his hands up my rear end between my legs. I was embarrassed to tell anyone and tried lowering my bookbag to keep him from doing it but nothing helped. I went to my math teacher one day and told her what was going on, that it made me feel uncomfortable, and asked what I should do. I was scared. She ended up escorting me to the principals office where I had to decribe the story again. Luckily, the principal at the time happened to be my 6th grade teacher so it made it a little easier talking to her. I thought it was my fault. I thought I didnt do enough to stop it from happening. I thought that because I talked to this boy on the bus, that it gave him the right to violate me that way. The boy ended up switching schools after I was too embarrassed to press charges, thank goodness, because if he hadn't, then I would have had to have a police escort to walk with me to each class. I never told any of my friends while it was going on. I was ashamed. It took me a while to gain my trust back in the male species (even my dad and grandfather) but eventually, I was able to let go.

My dad always told me, school first then boy, and thats what I stuck to. In college, I joined a sorority and I just knew my future husband was going to be a fraternity brother. I mean, I had so many to chose from! but much to my avail, nothing. Dont get me wrong, I was friends with them, but I never felt anything. By this time, all of my friends/sisters were either married or engaged and I felt like I was running out of time...God had forgotten about me and my needs, or so I thought. I prayed so SO hard every night for a husband and I hadnt gotten one...yet.

So I did what any desperate, impatient girl would do. No one knew my needs better than I did. With that in mind, I decided to take matters into my own hands...



To be continued...

Get me to the church on time...or maybe just a few minutes late

October 24, 2008




--I went to work a half a day that Friday. Worst idea ever. I remember having the worst anxiety because I had no control while I was at work, especially when I got a call from my mom saying that the grooms cake she went to pick up from Edible Art in Raleigh was messed up while taking it to the car but she quickly stated that she had taken it back to be fixed. I got off of work and headed straight to the Wendell Lions Club where I found my future sister in laws, future mother in law, my Mom, aunt and my wedding director & planner decorating for the reception to be held the next afternoon. The DJ had also arrived and was setting up his equipment so we had a little background music to listen to as we tried to get everything ready. Dad and my brother had been sent to pick up the wine and 2 kegs (probably bad idea, again.../could be why the keg was empty when Brandon and I got to the reception after taking pics at the church). After getting all of the center pieces on the tables and tables and chairs situated, I ran off to change clothes and get ready for my best friend/matron of honor to pick me up for us to get manicures before the rehearsal dinner. I remember being in such a daze while getting my nails done. Was this really happening? My family wasnt just throwing a party, I was getting married! It hadnt sunk in. Afterward the mani, I was STARVING so Paige snuck me to Zaxby's for a little "before dinner snack".







Rehearsal went off without a hitch (that I remember...). Actually, all that I do remember was the packet of info that my wedding director gave each member of the wedding party (all 10 bridesmaids/10groomsment/2flower girls/1ring bearer...and a partridge in a pear tree!) and they were given about 5 minutes to read through and remember their role. LOL Yep, that's why Lauren was in charge of Greek Sing in college and would fuss you out at the drop of a hat if things didnt go how they needed to. We then headed to Fargo for dinner and thanks to the afternoon snack/nerves, I ate nothing. I was given a pink fishing rod from my future MIL and Brandon was given a hat to wear while all of his groomsmen came up to him and hooked a lure to the hat. We had yummy cake (from Edible Art in the shape of a tackle box with a bass fin hanging out and lures hung around the outside) and headed home for bed. Brandon stayed with his family at a local hotel while I stayed at home.







October 25, 2008



--That morning I remember sleeping in as late as I could because I could possibly be the most impatient person. ever. and I would rather be "fashionably late" than have to wait for time to pass. My wedding director/sorority sister (who also worked with my mom at the time) showed up around 10am as I was procrastinating taking a shower. After I was coaxed by many, I jumped in, jumped out, and put on comfy clothes. Lauren dried my hair and all I remember is just being in a complete daze. It sure didnt feel like I was about to walk down the aisle in front of hundreds. and God. to profess my love to this man whom I had given my heart to. This man who had become my best friend, my confidant, my rock. I wasnt able to talk to Brandon that morning. Strict orders from the mother in law. The church was maybe 2 minutes from my parents house. I rode with Lauren. I dont remember the car ride much, but I do remember just having an out of body experience as I went down the road (the same road I've gone down countless times to other family members houses). Everything was so gray and desolate. No cars were on the road. I remember it was a quiet ride, neither of us talking and the radio was off. It was a little dreary outside that morning and had been drizzling but I didnt really notice until I got out of the car and stepped right into a cold puddle of water in my flip flops. Everyone that was in the wedding party was there, waiting. I reached my destination, the place where I entered as one thing and exited as another. If I only knew exactly how this one day would change the course of my life, forever.







To Be Continued...