I was walking into the gym, she was leaving. We looked at each other. Aha! We smile and meet each other halfway. We hugged. We used to be friends but a disastrous love affair with her brother Stephen brought our freindship to a harsh and bitter end.
Stephen was a controlling nut-job who wanted to tell me where I could and couldn't go, who I could and couldn't be freinds with, he wanted to know why my toenails were painted pink for fucks sake. I left him faster than my shamefully short marriage. He ended up stalking me and threatening to commit suicide. I told him to go right ahead. His family blamed me for his madness. It turns out that Stephen was a "nice guy" before he met me.
This article is not about Stephen. It's about Emily.
The reason I didn't recognize Emily at first is because Emily did not look like the Emily I used to know. Emily used to be beautiful and graceful and playful. She was sexy and happy and confident. She laughed a lot. Her friends envied her. Everyone thought that Emily had "the perfect life"
She was married to a physician she referred to as "the man of her dreams" they'd just bought a mansion in an upscale neighborhood and she was pregnant with their first child.
Yes. Emily's life looked on track to perfection. She was doing it the way it's "supposed" to be done.
Yet one look at Emily tells me that she was falling apart. She'd packed on over fifty pounds. Her glow was gone. Her gym clothes were stained. Her eyes empty, skin pale and her once luscious hair was thinnning. Emily looked twice her age and a broken shell of the woman I used to know.
"How are you, Erotica?" She said smiling seeming genuinely happy to see me.
"I'm doing well," I said.
"And you?"
She hesitated before answering. "Things are ok," she said looking at the ground.
"How's Ben?" I asked.
"Things didn't work out," she said.
I wanted to ask, "What happened Emily? How did you get beaten down like this? Where did your glow go--your sexiness, confidence, happiness?
Where did it all go?
"It's good seeing you," I said. "We should get together and catch up,"
"I would like that," she said.
We exchanged contact information and went about our day. But I couldn't stop thinking about her.
It may not seem as if I have all of my ducks lined up in perfect order. It may not seem as if I'm where I'm "supposed" to be, doing what I'm "supposed" to be doing with my life. I'm divorced. I'm a single mother. I tumble from one failed relationship after another. But I feel as if I'm standing on solid ground. Life's journey is not a straight line. Even the best laid plans can and do fall apart.
Everything is transient.
Everything.
I'm right where I need to be. And that's because I live life by my rules. I'm happy and healthy and I'm aware. I'm sexy and confident. I'm funny. I laugh a lot everyday.
I see my friends, family, acquaintances stressing out trying to live the life they're told they should be living, and not living the life they have. And I can't help but wonder, whose fairytale are we living in?
They think that they need to be married and have children and a big house and this and that and the other to be happy and whole, and when they get those things, it turns out that this is not the fairytale that they thought it would be.
When the husband who defined Emily was gone, she fell apart.
What do we think happens after college, marriage, house, kids? Do we stop playing the game?
The game is never over. It's just getting interesgting. There are twists and turns and bumps in the road that remains to be seen. None of us know what we'll find when we turn the corner. I do not put much credence into how it's "supposed" to be. I prefer to focus on who I am and how I can be better.
I don't know how or why Emily's seemingly on track perfect life fell apart. I know to be aware of the bumps in the road.
And as I drove home, I couldn't help thinking about her and cheering her on. What defines us is not how far or how hard we fall, it's how well we get back up. We all have one more fight left in us.
We can all get back up, one more time.
Stephen was a controlling nut-job who wanted to tell me where I could and couldn't go, who I could and couldn't be freinds with, he wanted to know why my toenails were painted pink for fucks sake. I left him faster than my shamefully short marriage. He ended up stalking me and threatening to commit suicide. I told him to go right ahead. His family blamed me for his madness. It turns out that Stephen was a "nice guy" before he met me.
This article is not about Stephen. It's about Emily.
The reason I didn't recognize Emily at first is because Emily did not look like the Emily I used to know. Emily used to be beautiful and graceful and playful. She was sexy and happy and confident. She laughed a lot. Her friends envied her. Everyone thought that Emily had "the perfect life"
She was married to a physician she referred to as "the man of her dreams" they'd just bought a mansion in an upscale neighborhood and she was pregnant with their first child.
Yes. Emily's life looked on track to perfection. She was doing it the way it's "supposed" to be done.
Yet one look at Emily tells me that she was falling apart. She'd packed on over fifty pounds. Her glow was gone. Her gym clothes were stained. Her eyes empty, skin pale and her once luscious hair was thinnning. Emily looked twice her age and a broken shell of the woman I used to know.
"How are you, Erotica?" She said smiling seeming genuinely happy to see me.
"I'm doing well," I said.
"And you?"
She hesitated before answering. "Things are ok," she said looking at the ground.
"How's Ben?" I asked.
"Things didn't work out," she said.
I wanted to ask, "What happened Emily? How did you get beaten down like this? Where did your glow go--your sexiness, confidence, happiness?
Where did it all go?
"It's good seeing you," I said. "We should get together and catch up,"
"I would like that," she said.
We exchanged contact information and went about our day. But I couldn't stop thinking about her.
It may not seem as if I have all of my ducks lined up in perfect order. It may not seem as if I'm where I'm "supposed" to be, doing what I'm "supposed" to be doing with my life. I'm divorced. I'm a single mother. I tumble from one failed relationship after another. But I feel as if I'm standing on solid ground. Life's journey is not a straight line. Even the best laid plans can and do fall apart.
Everything is transient.
Everything.
I'm right where I need to be. And that's because I live life by my rules. I'm happy and healthy and I'm aware. I'm sexy and confident. I'm funny. I laugh a lot everyday.
I see my friends, family, acquaintances stressing out trying to live the life they're told they should be living, and not living the life they have. And I can't help but wonder, whose fairytale are we living in?
They think that they need to be married and have children and a big house and this and that and the other to be happy and whole, and when they get those things, it turns out that this is not the fairytale that they thought it would be.
When the husband who defined Emily was gone, she fell apart.
What do we think happens after college, marriage, house, kids? Do we stop playing the game?
The game is never over. It's just getting interesgting. There are twists and turns and bumps in the road that remains to be seen. None of us know what we'll find when we turn the corner. I do not put much credence into how it's "supposed" to be. I prefer to focus on who I am and how I can be better.
I don't know how or why Emily's seemingly on track perfect life fell apart. I know to be aware of the bumps in the road.
And as I drove home, I couldn't help thinking about her and cheering her on. What defines us is not how far or how hard we fall, it's how well we get back up. We all have one more fight left in us.
We can all get back up, one more time.
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