I originally intended this blog for only my writing. But its difficult to separate the blog writer, from the person.
Who am I?
A year ago I would have told you that I was an Army wife (first and foremost) and a mother. I would have totally left out anything really having to do with ME as a person.
The theme over the last year has been change.
Last February 10th, we buried one of the most important people in my life. My Grandmother. She was such a big part of my life growing up. She taught me a lot about love, and a lot about hate and intolerance. She was Roman Catholic. Strict, but fun too. I used to try to wake up before her, but no matter how early I got up she was already seated at the kitchen table, coffee and cigarette in hand. I remember her painting my nails when I was little, and I remember the two of us sitting across the living room reading when I was in high school. For me, in some respects, she was a safe place to run to. But she didn't care for "niggers". (( I HATE HATE HATE that word, and after an impassioned speech about it she refrained from using it)) She was very intolerant of different, and change, and to a teenager who idolized her grandmother that was absolutely terrifying. I didn't want to disappoint her. I wanted her to be proud of me. Fear of that one thing kept me silent for a long time.
Being a lesbian was unacceptable.
So I dated boys. I "pretended". I was the "good kid". The one who did the right thing most of the time. I told everyone that I was NEVER getting married, and NEVER having children. I was joining the military, and eventually I would be an officer, and that would be my life, and that would be ENOUGH. My senior year, I was voted most likely to become an actress, they didn't know that I already was.
Well due to injury, the Navy didn't work out. By 19, I was living back at home, and an alcoholic. By 20, I'd had enough of living at home, and I married my first husband, who was one of my best friends. He is a great great guy, and I loved him, but not the way that I should have. He was my friend, and I adored him, but not enough to make a life with him. By 23, still an alcoholic, I was divorced and once again living at home with my parents.
Then I met HER. The girl I fell in love with. In the end, she was too afraid to be anything but the "good girl", and for the most part our closet doors stayed intact. The only good thing to come out of it all is that I was done drinking. So at 24, definitely on the rebound, and hearing a lot from my parents and grandmother about getting married and having babies, I met B. B was a little younger than me, had a sweet country boy attitude and looked pretty good in his Army uniform. Soooo innocent. And I thought to myself. I can do THIS. I can make THIS work. (I'm not sure if I was just in denial about myself, or completely out of my effing mind) If I can't be IN the military, I'll marry it.
In 2005, I got pregnant, and then married. I can't say that it was a bad marriage, at least at first. I can even for the most part remember being happy. I'm not sure if I was happy with B, or just in love with being a mom. We went on to have 2 more children. (total 3), and through deployments and moves, cheating (his), and just generally a lot of miserably trying to hold it all together.
Bringing us to 2011. We got the call that my grandmother was dying. My dad, my mother and I rented a car and headed from Missouri to Texas, in the blizzard that stretched all through Arkansas. When we arrived in Texas, my grandmother had actually seemed to have improved. My mother spent the night with her, and then the next day we all went to see her along with aunts and cousins ect. She had a great day of lucidity, talking about old memories, looking at photos of my children. It was a good day. As we were all leaving, promising to see her the next day, I happened to be the last one out of the room. As I hugged her goodbye, she whispered for me to make Myself happy. To be who I am, regardless of what anyone else thought. At THAT moment I thought it was a little overdramatic, and I brushed it off. The next morning we arrived at the hospital, and my Grandmother was mid-stroke. Late that night she passed away. She gave me back a piece of myself that I didnt'
A year ago we put her in the ground. A lot has changed, and continues to. My grandmother's words tumbled around in my head for quite awhile before I had the courage to do anything about them. In September, I asked my husband of 6 years for a divorce. I told him why. Amazingly he has been super cool about everything. It has lightened our relationship, because we are no longer burdened with trying to make something so so broken work. The truth was, that no MAN was ever going to make me happy. Even if he were the perfect HUSBAND it still would have fallen apart. Did I love him? Yes. I won't or can't explain how or why or whatever.. but I did love him very much. However, it didn't work out, and life moves on whether we are ready or not. I had come to the conclusion of How was I ever supposed to be happy with someone if I continued to shop the wrong department.
Most of my friends and family members know.. kinda anticlimactic, as most of them claimed they already "knew". Spoilsports. My in-laws do not know. All they know is that when B gets back from Afghanistan, we are divorcing. that is a southern baptist holy-rollercoaster, I don't even want to be there for! So looking forward there are challenges and hurdles to be overcome, not the least of which is the whole new world that my children will find themselves in if I ever DO decide to date. But despite all the challenges ahead, I look forward to being able to BE ME, without having to hide something that is integral to my make up.
CarrieAnn M.
