In Other Words...

Do people ever really grow up? Based on my experience? Some do. My friends, for example, are evolved and wise, whether they are thirty or sixty. But there’s a particular group of older women with whom I’m acquainted, who behave worse than high school teens. Believe me when I say, I know immature teenage behavior when I see it (having just spent my fourteenth year in high school). And these older ladies display it in abundance.

Oh, the intrigue, the drama, the rumors, the backstabbing! While it’s understandable behavior within the eighteen-and-younger demographic, it’s quite pathetic watching the Shakespearean dramas unfold amongst the AARP crowd.

Who cares who is dating whom? As long as they’re happy. Who gives a flying fuck who has been seen at a certain restaurant with (or without) a particular woman? A man has to eat. What difference does it make if he was seen buying groceries or shopping at Homegoods? Such inane nonsense! Who gives a rat’s ass if two consensual adults decide to think outside the box and eat fucking cake?

They do. These sad women who know their best years are behind them. Who look on with envy at anyone who has a spark of life left inside their aging bodies (I include myself in this category. There’s a lot of life left in these old bones).

Is it because their own lives are pitifully boring? That’s a safe yes. Do they meddle just to make themselves feel more important? Without a doubt. Did they flush their collective self-esteem down the metaphorical toilet many years ago? I’m running to OTB to put money on it.

My advice, ladies? Get a life and stop pushing your agenda onto others. Do you want to support your friend or turn his life into an episode of General Hospital, Geriatric Unit?

My lord! The drama, drama, drama they stir up, for no other reason than to make their own lives more interesting.

I’ll be honest, I have no appetite for their brand of friendship and recognize them for the women they are; fake, egocentric, meddlesome, immature and sad.

It appears they would like to see him with another certain someone. A woman with whom he has history, who is conveniently part of their friend group. She’s also a woman who used him in the past, mislead him in the present and could never give him the life he deserves; one in which he’s free to travel and explore without an anchor tied around his neck. I feel for her on some level. Her path isn’t easy and there’s no off ramp.

But don’t assume I’m part of the equation. He didn’t leave her for me. He left her to save himself, all on his own. Hardly a day went by over the past few months without us communicating; long, introspective messages. But he kept me completely in the dark regarding his relapse in judgment, until it was over.

All I want for him is to be happy. I wanted him to be free of my limitations, whether emotional or logistical. I loved him enough to let him go in the hopes he’d meet the ‘right’ woman. A woman who lives close by and could be there for him. A kind person he could travel with. Someone with whom he could share meals and listen to true crime podcasts, maybe watch Breaking Bad for the tenth time. Take rides on his boat, go kayaking to Lavender Island and look for purple sea glass.

He is who he is. Some men just can’t be alone and he picked the low hanging fruit. A relationship he didn’t have to pursue. One that required no effort at all to reestablish. When he eventually told me about their brief interlude, he paraphrased something I wrote back to me, “I didn’t love her; she was just easy.” Not easy in the slutty way. Easy, meaning convenient, eager and willing.

But they would never have freedom to roam and he saw the writing on the wall. I’m so proud of him for doing what he felt was best for his well-being, his future happiness and fulfillment. For standing up and saying, this isn’t enough for me.

If I was seeing him again (and I’m not saying I am), I wouldn’t share this information with the ladies. Why? Because it’s none of their fucking business! Whatever is or isn’t happening between us is nobody’s business but our own.

He won’t say it because he’s far too nice (and I think enjoys a little drama himself), but I have no problem relaying the message here and now.

Either support your friend, whatever his life choices, or get the fuck out of the way. 

Those are your options. He’s not a doormat and I couldn’t care less what you think of me. I know who my friends are and they are fabulous, loyal and kind. They have my back.

In other words, they are nothing like you.

Silence

The hardest thing to do is stay silent and do nothing when every fiber of your being wants to react. Stories take on a life of their own in a small community and once they gain momentum, the truth simply doesn’t matter. Sharing ‘your side of the story’ is futile because social media gives ignorant people a platform for their toxicity.

We live in a world where facts don’t matter. They matter to me, but to a growing majority? No. When it comes to politics, I don’t give a fuck. I brandish facts like a scalpel, slicing away at falsehoods with surgical precision. But when it’s personal? When people fuck with something that cuts to the core of who I am? Facts add oxygen to a fire that’ll eventually smolder and die. It’s not worth correcting people who hold onto their version of reality with all the righteous indignation they can muster.

So, silence it is. There is power and dignity in silence.

Silence requires patience and strategy. Be on guard, observe, wait, never lose control when silence is the strongest card in the deck. The desire to set people straight is strong, a growing tumor of white hot festering rage that wants to explode. The inability to take control of the narrative…soul crushing at times.

But this too shall pass.

I continue to take deep cleansing breaths, absorbing the abundance of loving support provided by my friends and family. The kind of love some will never have. One might feel an inkling of pity for the lonely lives of others…sorry for all the misdirected outrage and self-loathing they likely experience whenever they cross paths with a mirror. Numbing their pain, losing a grip on reality, hoping against hope to give their lives meaning. It’s sad in a way.

For now, I write with restraint and wait for the smoke to clear.

When it does, clothed in the tattered remnants of their spite and ignorance, I’ll do what I do best. Hold my head up high, rip off the noxious scraps of their decaying insecurities and continue living my life with clarity, purpose and love in my heart. As for forgiveness? That’s a whole other ballgame. I may forgive, but I’ll never forget.

In the meantime, I surrender to the silence.

Cake

You can’t have your cake and eat it too. Who came up with that expression? What’s the point of cake if you can’t eat it? Is it decoration? Do some people sit around looking at cake because they think it’s pretty? I want to know! Who doesn’t eat the damned cake? If you’re out there, reveal yourself!

Cake is a metaphor, of course. At this juncture in my life, cake is someone I deeply care about. Someone who wants more than I can give in my present state. It’s been a rough year on so many levels, my friends. Losing a twin changes your DNA. I’m no longer the person cake met years ago. I don’t know myself anymore, but I’m trying to figure out this new version of me and it’s hard. Like, being-a-teenager-without-a-clue kind of hard, and I’m exhausted.

People say when you ‘end’ a relationship, you have to cut ties with that person to allow for healing. But what if you don’t want to cut ties? The end of one thing is the beginning of something else, right? What if you want to redefine the relationship? Can’t we keep what was good and let go of what wasn’t working? What if the good boils down to companionship? What if obligation and expectation doesn’t work anymore? I guess some would call those two elements…commitment. Is that what I want? Companionship without commitment?

Wow.

At this point, I’m sure many of you are thinking, Yes, Jayne, that’s exactly what you’re saying. To which, I reply, Unless…that’s what cake wants as well? Now you’re shouting, Wishful thinking, Jayne! And you’re probably right.

Well…fuck. I guess I can’t have my cake and eat it too.
Which sucks, because I really love cake.

Snapshots

I have never written a book (start to finish, draft to publication) while in a relationship. When I was single, I cranked out four books in three years. I didn’t have to worry about offending my partner or wonder if readers would compare him to my characters. Many have tried to match the characters to my exes and that was okay. Have at it. However, writing about relationships while in a relationship? That was a much more difficult undertaking. I was in a relationship for almost five years. During that time, the best I could do was produce a first draft. It was a solid draft and I thought it was ready to send out to beta readers for feedback, but something stopped me. I couldn’t pinpoint what was wrong with it, I just knew something was. Recently, I reread the manuscript and recognized the problem. In trying to protect my significant other from unnecessary scrutiny, I wove a tale of pure fiction, staying away from and/or sanitizing anything that hit too close to home. It felt fake and I don’t do fake.
Writers write what they know. I write about relationships. That’s what I know.
I’m fifty-one years old (that was painful to type!) and have been in several relationships over the course of the past three decades, each one different from the next. I observe the workings of my friends and relatives’ relationships, the strong ones built upon friendship, others, unsatisfying unions of convenience. I’ve experienced the euphoria of being in love and the agony of heartbreak. I write what I know, but that doesn’t mean I’m writing an autobiography. My books contain snapshots of real life woven around a fictitious story. My feelings are reflected in some characters more than others, but the characters aren’t me. They are not my family. I include snapshots, that’s all.

Am I a single mother? Yes.
Did I have a husband who cheated on me? Yes.
Am I divorced? Yes.
Have I been in unhealthy relationships? Yes.
Do I find motherhood challenging? Yes.
Have I ever been in love with someone who doesn’t love me? Yes.
Have I ever been unfaithful? No.
Do I struggle with depression and anxiety? Yes.
I definitely can identify similarities between me and my characters, but part of the reason I write is to escape reality! I love a happily ever after because I WANT a happily ever after, whether it includes a significant other or not.

I don’t usually read reviews of my books. Honestly, I hadn’t read any over the past five years, not until last week. I couldn’t believe how many there were! Lots of good reviews, some bad reviews. Either way, I don’t take it personally. I’m not everyone’s cup of tea. But I was surprised by how many people thought my second book was a true story. As it Seems is my most popular novel (by far) and though in real life my ex-husband cheated on me while I was pregnant, and I’ve suffered bouts of serious depression, absolutely nothing else about that story is true. Ted and Libby were blissfully happy until her unplanned pregnancy and subsequent revelation of her husband’s infidelity. I was miserable in my marriage long before either of those events unfolded. Did I have a Truman in my life to get me through it all? If only! I had a babysitter, friends and family to help out. Did I walk away with half of everything when I finally left him? Not even close. Three years post-affair/birth of my youngest daughter I finally sprinted to the door without much of anything. I was hanging on by a thread with three kids to raise. If not for my incredible mother…I don’t know where I’d be now. She is my angel, now in heaven, watching over me and her grandchildren.

As it Seems is fiction, my friends. Little snapshots of reality mixed with a whole lot of fantasy.

I recognized another pattern while perusing the reviews. People like the characters I created who are wronged, not the characters who DO something wrong. I found that extremely interesting because I’ve yet to meet a person who lives a truly pure and honest life. Some of the most wonderful and interesting people I know are deeply flawed. I am deeply flawed. I also discovered that people are seriously triggered by infidelity in my book(s), probably because most people have been cheated on or know someone who has. Infidelity is wrong but it’s not a black and white issue. I’ve been cheated on and still understand why people stray. They are unhappy and either looking for a way out (consciously or subconsciously) or a way back in, hoping to get the attention of a partner who is not fulfilling their needs. The damage is usually irreparable by that point, but not everyone leaves. Some couples do come back from infidelity.

I like complex characters and just as people fuck up in real life, so do the characters I create.

Readers also had strong feelings about characters showing weakness of any sort. Staying in a bad relationship for your kids. Doing what you believe is right versus doing what is right for you. People make choices every single day, some simple, some life-altering. It’s not weakness to make a bad decision, it’s reality. People are complicated. My characters are complicated. And when I’m done tearing apart my four-years-in-the-making-first-draft and put some of the pieces back together in a whole new way, I hope to create honest, flawed, complex characters that you, my readers, can relate to.

My work isn’t done. Until next time.