This first post may get long, but I am going to try to summarize my background. I'm going to keep this fairly anonymous for now, to make sure any of my stories won't negatively impact anyone.
My Childhood
I was born in the early 1980s in Grand Rapids, MI. I have 3/4 Polish ancestry and 1/4 Lithuanian (my maiden name is Lithuanian and was always complicated for everyone to pronounce). I was born with a birth defect, which required major surgery at 4 years old. My mother was raised in a Catholic home with 3 siblings and attended public school. My father was also raised in a Catholic home, with 3 brothers and attended both public and Catholic schools. My parents married young and had me several years later. I was raised "Catholic", but only attended Mass on holidays with my mother. Most of my childhood Mass attendance was during the school day, while attending Catholic school. My parents separated when I was a baby and eventually divorced. I am an only child. I attended Catholic school for elementary, and public for middle and high school. I have a degree in group social students, with secondary education certification in the states of Michigan and Arizona.
The inside of the beautiful basilica I attended while going to Catholic school
As a very young child, my mother was the manager of a restaurant and I had a nanny come and babysit me until I was old enough for preschool. She was engaged to a man a couple of years after the divorce, who was also living with us. My mom's health started to fail and she became a nanny, so that she could be off her feet more and be home for me a little more since I went with her. This only lasted a short time, and by the time I was 8 years old, my mom no longer worked. My "future" step dad, who my mom was engaged to, had problems with alcoholism. These issues, accompanied with my mother's strong desire for control, lead to a lot of conflict between the two. Unfortunately, domestic violence occurred for some time until they finally "broke up". I still remember hearing this abuse, and I still get very anxious around those who raise their voice, or if I see any kind of violence.
I never remember having a really close relationship with my mother. At times she seemed preoccupied in many other things, so I grew to become very dependent on myself at a young age. After a brief time after divorce, she started dating a new man and we moved in with him. This relationship only lasted a year. My mom got "sick" (not sure if it was mental or physical) and I moved in with my father, and 6 months later into the homeless shelter my mother was living in. After living in the shelter, we got into government housing (I was around 11 years old at the time), where we lived until I moved out at the end of high school.
In my teen years, I had a great animosity toward my mother and showed her a lot of disrespect. Much of this stemmed from my anger that would develop when I would hear her badmouth my father. It also was from the fact that she had not worked in a long time, so sitting around home all day gave her the time to analyze my life a little more. There were times when she got a little extreme in her expectations of me. I had to be "perfect'. Much of this pressure was good for me, and it was done at the right time (the teen years are a rebellious time). Through all of this, I was a good student. I had straight As in my middle school honors classes (I was even "Student of the Year" my 8th grade year) and took honors/AP classes in high school. I was a cheerleader, in student counsel, and was just very much involved in school. It was really my way to never have to be home.
Some of the other forms of my mother's control only drove me further away from her. She began loosing her patience with me as I aged, and her form of discipline consisted of yelling, degrading and outward signs of her anger toward me (she never physically harmed me). Her depression was affecting all of her relationships around her. We really had not spent any kind of "quality time" with each other since I was a young child. She struggled to get out of bed in the morning, and sat and watched TV all day, talked on the phone all evening. She had no desire to go anywhere or do anything for several years. Her only interest in me came about when I would do well in school, which was a good motivation for me to do so.
My father moved out before I can remember, even though I know he returned for a brief time before the divorce. From what he told me, he started to lurk around the "gay scene". He started dating men, but wasn't "open" about it for a few years. He held a job at General Motors, where he worked for 30 years. He was a hard worker, but very dependent on romantic relationships. He wasn't around much when I was young, but as I got older, I grew close to him. He was a very positive person, who never spoke ill of anyone. He did let me down many times by not showing up to pick me up when he was supposed to. He was always late to everything and struggled with panic attacks throughout his life.
My father started becoming "ill" when I was around 10 years old. I found out later that this is when he discovered he was HIV+. Throughout my youth I spent almost every other weekend at his home. We went on vacation out west together (he was single at this time) and I really enjoyed being around him. He was a lot of fun! We loved to go rollerskating, skiing, biking and even tried ice skating a few times. He also could give me things my mother could not, not just attention, but clothes, toys, etc. My mom was living on welfare and child support, so she couldn't always spend much on things for me (her smoking habit took a lot her funds). If I needed something, my father was the, "go-to person" and he was always generous when I asked. He had a couple of boyfriends who I really liked. I never had any issues with my father's lifestyle growing up, and I believe I was more negatively affected by my mother's. I did notice that my father was much happier when single. Whenever he was in a relationship, he started drinking more, having more anxiety, and blowing family and friends off.
At this point, I was a senior in high school, had good grades, was accepted into all of the collages I applied to, was on homecoming court, had many friends, and was now living with a parent who I considered good friend. You would think I would have been the happiest young woman alive, at last. This was the beginning of a very dark time for me.
Into Adulthood
After having suicidal thoughts and moving out of my mother's apartment, I started therapy. It was nice to talk to someone about everything, but honestly it didn't help much. I started skipping school, skipping cheer practice and just wanted to sleep all day long. If I did go to school, I'd come right home and go to bed. I no longer had thoughts of ending my life, but I no longer wanted to "live".
My father worked the night shift, so I didn't see him much. His boyfriend was always home in the evenings, but there was just something about him that wasn't quite right. I never became friends with him, or got to know him. On the weekends, they'd both be gone. Several nights a week they'd go to the bar after my dad got out of work and come home early in the morning. They were huge into the party scene. My dad had always gone to bars and had lots of friends around, but this late night partying, I thought, must be some mid life crisis he was going through. My dad started loosing weight (he was always thin, but had always worked out to build muscle) and looked awful. At this time, no one knew he was HIV+. I found out later that he was out partying a lot, but some weekends they drove to Chicago so my dad could see a doctor there who was prescribing new HIV medications.
I felt lonely and broken. My friends from school were busy with their own lives and I didn't want to bother them with my issues. I never had a really close friend that I felt like I could share everything with. I didn't think anyone would understand. I was afraid that if I did share what I was going through that I would scare them away.
One day, while I was in my high school library I decided to send a few emails out to a few people. One of them was a recent ex boyfriend, who was working full time and went to community college locally. This ex boyfriend had some control issues when we were together before and I ended the relationship because of his many insecurities. He emailed me back the next day and asked if we could get together sometime. I craved the attention and distraction from my life, so I agreed to meeting with him. We started seeing each other several days a week and it became daily throughout that summer.
My first year of college was tough. I lived on campus, even though it wasn't a desirable thing for me to do, it was better than being stuck at my dad's (still not "feeling" connection with his boyfriend). I got a job in Grand Rapids while living in Allendale on the GVSU campus. My classes were horrible. I tested out of writing classes, but the other general education classes I had to take were so boring (also things I already learned). If I was in my room, I was on my computer chatting, or listening to music. I was never into TV, and I didn't need to study for my classes.
Unfortunately, within the first few months of my freshman year my grandfather and my aunt passed away. My other grandfather had just passed away the year before. Already depressed from the poor relationship with my mother (we never talked much after I moved out) and the distance from my father (who was too busy having a good time), it was too much. Death surrounded me. I was at the point of just giving up on everything again. I started smoking cigarettes heavily, driving tons of caffeine, eating fast food and sleeping in as much as I could (my earliest class was 10am). The only distraction from everything was my boyfriend, who would drop everything at a moments notice to come see me. It wasn't so much of a romantic relationship (like when we dated before), but almost like a best friend relationship, and we were both addicted to each other's company. Another bonus (or I thought) was that he brought a new distraction, alcohol.
By Christmas of my freshman year, I wanted out of my dorm. I had not made any new friends, and it was a good 40 minute drive to see my boyfriend. I wanted to continue school, even though I found it boring, but I wanted to move back to Grand Rapids. But, there was a problem. Where do I go? I really felt uncomfortable at my dad's house, even though it was a safe place to go, but for some reason I didn't want to live there again. I could never live with my mom again. We were now on speaking terms, but I did not enjoy her company and there was still a lot of resentment toward her. I didn't want a roommate, I was uncomfortable with sharing living space with friends. I had a job, but there was no way I could afford things on my own. My tuition at school was covered by scholarship and grants, and some of the left over money went to my cost of living at school. The following year I wouldn't have enough to cover housing on campus, so I would have to come up with more money, or move out anyway. I decided the best thing was to do was move in with my boyfriend. We already saw each other every day, and he even offered to pay for an apartment (Wow! Someone to take care of me!). I didn't think it was a big deal. I grew up with my mom living with a couple different men and my dad did the same.
I thought I had the solution to creating my happiness. Only did I find out that I just made things worse...
Moving In
I never lived in one place for a long period of time while growing up. The home my parents bought together was sold when I was in kindergarden ( a few years after their divorce) and my mother and I moved to the west side of Grand Rapids. We rented two different homes during this time within walking distance to my school. We later lived with my mom's boyfriend an hour away. Then, I lived with my father after, and later my mother and I moved to the homeless shelter. The most stable home was our small apartment through government housing, where we were placed after the shelter. I lived there from 7th to 12th grade.
Moving to a new place was always exciting. When I moved in with my boyfriend in the middle of my freshman year of college, I was a little nervous about living with him, but I was also excited to have our own place and a little more privacy than when I lived in the dorm. We got along great and agreed on basic things, so sharing space didn't seem to be a problem.
As soon as we moved in, I felt like something was horribly wrong. I played it off to my boyfriend, like I was fine, but as the weeks went by I became more depressed. I started drinking with my boyfriend and by myself. I got a job at bank that summer working full time, and there were several times where I had to call in because I was sick from drinking the night before. My boyfriend also started having the same control issues he had with me before. After one incident of loosing his temper and putting a hole in the wall my good friend started to feel concerned for my safety. I assured her I was fine and always defended him.
A few months after moving in together, he proposed to me. I was hesitant, but I accepted. I was already feeling guilt about living together. Even though I grew up with my parents having live-in romantic interests, I remember the days in Catholic school, where I heard that men and women live together after they marry. I felt it was the only honest thing to do. I did care about him and if I wasn't for him, I wouldn't even have a place to live! Also, the positive remarks from friends and family were quite uplifting to me. Everyone was excited about a wedding and I started getting excited to. Now, I had to figure out where we'd be married.
I grew up with fond memories of the Catholic Church, and I always felt a connection with God during the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass. I used to choose to pray the rosary with some of the nuns at our school during lunchtime, instead of going to recess. I was an altar server, and was pulled out to do funerals quite often, since I was always ahead in school and could afford to be absent. I don't remember ever praying at home with either of my parents, but I would pray by myself. I used to pray the rosary for friends and family. Once I started going to public school in 7th grade, I had less opportunities for Mass (my mom only went occasionally for a Saturday Vigil). The little faith and education of the Church that I had started to fade into a distant memory for me until there wasn't much left.
I have always had a soft spot in my heart for religious sisters.
They taught me my faith when no one else had.
My new fiance and I began attending the closet Parish to us. Immediately I felt God's presence again, like I had as a child. I joined the choir and went to Mass every Sunday as well as the Holy Days of Obligation. My fiance was raised Catholic, but also had limited education and never had Confirmation (neither did I). We started meeting with the priest about the wedding, and I remember these meetings being short and limited. Just vague, basic questions were asked. Birth control was never brought up (I was on the pill and never even knew until a few years ago that the Church was against it). We were asked if we wanted children, we answered, "eventually, just not right now". We met with an old married couple who talked to us about finances and basic household courtesy for each other. When I look back at our "marriage formation", I get quite frustrated. If the people working with us in marriage prep would have dug deeper and made sure we were properly catechized on marriage, we probably wouldn't have been married. We were never confirmed, or was ever recommended to go Confession (which was offered in a brief time slot once a week anyway). The last time I had been to Confession was in elementary school.
Planning the wedding went well, but it wasn't something I focused the most of my attention on. I started enjoying spending time at church and I was trying to make "good" of things in my life. I started having more guilt about my choices. I really did not feel connected to this man, but he loved me and would do anything for me. We were getting along pretty well and his control issues faded over time (but the damage had already been done). I felt as if I had no "right" to deny marriage to my fiance, since we were already living as if we were married. This was a choice I made, and now I had to live with it.
The day of our wedding was very difficult. I remember being in the dressing room and crying. I played it off to others as nerves, but deep down I was so confused. I kept telling myself, "God will make this better if I do the right thing", which I thought was go through with the wedding. My dad paid a lot of money for the reception, hundreds of people sat in the church waiting, so there was no backing out now. The day was a blur. We went home that night and never touched each other. We flew to Mexico the following day for our honeymoon. I drank heavily every day of our vacation. We never returned to Church when we returned a week later. I think I felt too ashamed to go back. That I lied to God. That my life was still sinful.
I started "church shopping". Due to my embarrassment of my choices and improper faith formation, I thought leaving the Catholic Church was an option. A new conflict inside of me also started to emerge; my father's lifestyle and the teachings of the Church.
The End of a "Dark Era"
The End of a "Dark Era"
After a couple of years into college, I finally started to enjoy going to class. I decided to major in social studies, which included classes in history, geography, political science and economics. I started to become very interested in politics. It was a way to keep me occupied and engaged in something I felt was important. My entire family (grandparents, aunts, uncles, mom, dad) were Democrats and vocal about it. The main reason for their party affiliation was because many of them were in unions at General Motors. I joined the college Democrats and even canvassed in the presidential election. I enjoyed reading books by Michael Moore, Studs Terkel, and books like Freakonomics. I excelled in my history and economics classes and I loved going to class to hear lectures in these areas.
College students tend to make up a great deal of volunteers for party offices.
Phone and door to door canvassing kept me busy when I wasn't in class.
While I started embracing the Democratic Party, I started analyzing my faith. Having lived in government housing with my mother, who was physically disabled and grow up with a father who was openly gay pushed me into a position to favor the party's social platform. I believed at this time that one should be able to know what's right and wrong based on their life experiences. I became very vocal about the right to gay marriage, socialist ideas and very anti war. I embraced it and surrounded myself with life minded individuals. I was also working as a model for over a year, which I embraced. I started to become very vain and obsessed with my appearance. I was also surrounded by the fashion industry, which embraced many selfish lifestyles. I started going to bars with friends more often. I liked any attention that I received from men, and I dressed accordingly. A major reason why I dress the way I do today is to make reparation to God for the way I had dressed during this time in my life.
I started looking into different churches and what they had to say about some of these political issues. I attended a Presbyterian church several times with my father growing up, since the pastor at this particular church was very welcoming to the gay community. When I looked more into it, it wasn't an option for me. My husband and I went to Mass at different Catholic churches with our families on holidays, but we never went back to going to church weekly at all. The only church that seemed to match my "values" was the Methodist church. My husband didn't seem to care one way or the other, so we just stopped worrying about it. We had never prayed together at home before, and our faith wasn't really apart of our daily lives. The only times I prayed is when I wanted to ask God for a favor. When I didn't get what I wanted, I backed off for awhile.
We made it three years into our marriage when things really started to go downhill for us. Even though there wasn't too many fights, or any major control issues for either of us, we started pulling away from each other. I was not attracted to him in a way that a wife should be. From the beginning everything was forced, and it eventually broke me down. I finally asked to separate and he stayed a friends house briefly while I chose to go into counseling by myself. I could never picture myself ever having children with this man and if I did, I would have had to physically force myself to do so (if you get what I'm saying).
While I was in counseling I was also going through a lot of other changes in my life. I was substitute teaching part time, coaching competitive cheerleading, starting my student teaching and just learned that my father was HIV+ (and had been for over 15 years). A lot was going on, but I told myself that this time I wasn't going to let all these things ruin me. I was determined to work through my feelings. I was blessed to have a wonderful counselor who worked with me for almost 6 months before my husband and I started marriage counseling. The marriage counseling didn't do much for us. It was really because there was no marriage to save. We had been living in a complicated relationship from the beginning, but I still had hope that maybe it would get better.
I graduated from college in 2006 and I got a job offer in Arizona. My husband and I were still on good terms, but still emotionally separated. We thought we could give it a try somewhere else. If it didn't work out after moving and starting over, it was really over. Within a couple of months we signed papers for divorce. I helped him pack his things in a U-haul and he moved back to Michigan. It couldn't have ended better; we were on good terms and at peace with things. Of course it was sad. No one wants to get divorced, it's a horrible thing that I still have to live with today.
I now had an ex husband at 25 years old. Even though I know I absolutely did the right thing, I felt quite ashamed about it. Little did I know that my entire life was changing, for the better. It was going to take some time, and many times of doubt, but once and for all I would gradually let God in.
A Complex Love Story
When I first moved to Arizona I met a man, PJ who was from Grand Rapids through my husband. PJ's family had gone to church with the family of another man who worked with my husband in Grand Rapids (if that makes sense). When my husband announced we were moving to Arizona, he was given PJ's number and told to give him a call, so he could show us around or recommend a good place to live.
The beautiful landscape in AZ
We got together with PJ a couple of times. We never shared the specifics of our relationship, he assumed we were happily married. PJ seemed like a really nice guy, but he focused a lot his life on work. He joked to us how he had not dated in a long time, only a hand full of times since high school (he was in his late 20s). He was a little shy, but once he opened up he held a great conversation. The 3rd or 4th time we met up with PJ, something odd happened. My husband got up to use the bathroom while PJ and I were talking to each other (I don't even remember what we were talking about). For a moment I made eye contact with PJ and I felt completely paralyzed. The words, "I am going to have this man's children" immediately entered my mind. When my husband returned, I excused myself to go to the bathroom. I felt sick. I had been around this man several times before and I didn't think anything like this about him. He was a good looking guy, but I see lots of good looking guys all the time. I was married! What was wrong with me? I was embarrassed for myself, but I couldn't get this intense attraction I had to this man. At this moment I knew that my relationship with my future ex was indeed completely over. I composed myself and returned to the table. We finished our meal and left.
A few nights went by and I couldn't stop thinking about what happened. I was alone in my room on my laptop (my husband slept in a separate room on the other side of the apartment we were living in) and I looked up PJ online. I found his profile and decided to message him to say hi. After I did this, I started questioning myself. Is this ok? I am just being friendly, but my husband is in the other room and I'm trying to talk to someone I have recently discovered to have a very deep attraction to. I felt the urge to talk to my husband about it. I didn't fill him in on everything, but I asked if it was weird for me to talk to PJ. We were already separated, but that was so recent. Should I really be talking to other men when I had such a horrible history of making poor choices with relationships in the past? My husband assured me that it was fine and that it wasn't weird. It wasn't like PJ was a good friend of his.
I decided to pray about it. I had prayed for such selfish things in my life and that's usually the only time I had gone to God. This time, I asked for guidance. I had gone through college, through bars, fashion shows as a model, and around so many different men; I never felt this way, toward ANYONE. And most of all, I hardly knew this man! Maybe I was afraid of being alone?
PJ messaged me back and we started a conversation the next night. I told him about what was going on with my marriage and he seemed surprised. I let him know I was interested in hanging out with him sometime, just the two of us. PJ said that he couldn't do that. Since I was still married, it would feel awkward and it wasn't right. I understood and I was willing to wait. We still continued to message each other online. I waited a couple of weeks (really waited long, huh?) and I asked him again if he'd consider meeting for dinner. This time, he asked if my husband would be alright with it. PJ talked with my future ex husband and he was given the "ok".
Once PJ and I started hanging out, the relationship grew quickly. We determined that we had many things in common and we really enjoyed each other's company. Once my ex husband moved back to Michigan a month later, we saw each other even more. PJ really made my first few months in Phoenix some of the most memorable times of my life, up to that point. We started to only desire to be in each other's company. Every night he'd come to my apartment, where I'd make him dinner. On the weekends, he'd take me out and show me different restaurants around Phoenix. After a couple of months, we moved in together. This is something I now look back on and wished I would have waited, since it would have made our wedding much more special.
Only after a few months of dating, PJ proposed to me. There was no hesitation to say, "yes". Unfortunately, one day while on break at school, I noticed a voicemail on my phone. It was my dad's boyfriend. He told me to call him as soon as possible, so I did. In a shaky voice he said to me, "Your father passed away this morning, I'm so sorry". I was in shock. I wasn't really sad or upset for the first 24 hours. I went straight home after letting my principal know, booked a flight to GR and PJ came along with me. How awkward for PJ. He met my entire family for the first time, including my father, at my father's visitation. My ex husband was also there for support (since he had gotten to know my dad so well over the years). Some of my aunts and uncles were confused to meet my new finance and see my ex husband there, but since pretty much every member of my family had been divorced at least once, they had nothing negative or awkward to say. PJ was amazing through it all, and was always there for me in the following weeks and months when I'd mourn my father's death. What made things harder was that I was right in my suspicion of my father's boyfriend. He wanted nothing to do with me after my father died. My father left him the house and all it's possessions, but I fought him legally until I got the things I wanted (photos, some of my grandparents' things, my stuff from when I lived there).
I knew things were heading in the right direction with us once we started looking for a church to attend. PJ had gone to a non denominational church occasionally and asked if I would go that Easter. I went, but I wasn't impressed. I convinced him to attend Methodist church (he was hesitant at first) and we found that we felt really comfortable there. We continued going every week and planned our wedding with the pastor. Our marriage prep was very well done. I am very grateful for our pastor taking the time to make sure we were ready. I really didn't want to rush into things, or make the same mistakes I had made before. Even though I knew I wasn't making a mistake, it was good to have someone else analyze things on a deep level and come to the same conclusion. It took awhile for me to stop worrying about what others thought. I'm sure many on the outside were seeing me rush from one marriage to another. This is the main reason why we waited a little longer to marry than we wanted to.
PJ and I were married on a golf course by our home in 2008 surrounded by a small ground of friends and family. My godfather walked me down the aisle (ironic now that I look back on that, since he supported me in Protestant marriage). Through the grace of God, we entered marriage open to life and ready for what God had in store for us.
The Methodist church we belonged to in Phoenix
Alright.. it took 4 posts to explain some background. I did a lot of writing today.
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