If I wanted to move forward I had to answer one question. Would I ever be able to be sexually involved again? Having sex with someone would make me physically and emotionally vulnerable and I wasn’t sure I was in the right state to be either. The rape had become a giant steel wall that kept me from feeling anything for anyone. What I didn’t realize then was that this wall wasn’t truly protecting me, it was just another impediment to my future happiness.
That winter, despite my determination to stay away, Javi and I became friends. The more time I spent with him, the more I gradually began to feel again. Living up to his words to me that night in New York, he had been a true friend those past few months. Our friendship blossomed so effortlessly that I couldn’t fight its natural progression. Slowly, we developed a sense of trust because he had been so steadfast. I allowed him to meet my son and when I saw how well Isaac took to him, it became clear that he was the one I should break down my guard for.
Javi and I were visiting his cousin at West Virginia University when I decided to tell him how I felt. I knew in my heart I wasn’t making a mistake. The morning we arrived at the school, I told him I had feelings for him and asked if I was too late. Javi was happy to hear that. His feelings hadn’t changed. His unwavering support became the foundation of our healthy relationship. We had both learned from our mistakes in previous relationships. He had been with someone for four years on and off, but now he knew what he wanted. He had goals and hobbies. There was a personality behind that handsome face.
One of the things I loved best about Javi was that his family was the center of his life. Even though I only had a few blood relatives to call my own, this was a quality that was essential to me. As my own small family was growing, Javi brought me into his. They are a large, warm, and welcoming family, who had open arms from the moment I was introduced. I wasn’t accustomed to such hospitality.
Choosing to let Javi in was the best decision I had made in a very long time. We were like little torn pieces from a book. Only together would we make sense. It was like we were pushing each other in the right direction. Even the smallest of gestures showed his willingness to compromise on any level. For example, Javi had never liked animals. Now, here he was embracing my love of canines and shopping for a new dog with me. We just worked.
***
To be honest, fighting was a part of our relationship, too. Our love for each other had been growing quickly and impossibly stronger each day. That part was perfect. But just as passionately as you can love someone, your fights can mirror that intensity. After a year together and a few months living under the same roof, Javi and I got into what I would have deemed a relatively normal fight. And, of course, Teen Mom 2 was there to film the entire showdown.
Just like the television screen makes images seem larger than life, it magnified the incident itself. If the angles were a little deeper and the camera could see within my anxiety-ridden soul, then maybe you’d get how things escalated so quickly. The whole fight was the result of a cascade of unfortunate accidents. In the corner, our dog was shitting on the floor. I asked Javi to take him outside. It felt like there were people everywhere, invading my breathing space. I felt the walls caving in and the oxygen draining from inside the small room. The congestion in the house caused me to overreact. I lashed out and pushed Javi. He went outside to fix my car and that was it. That was probably one of our shortest fights and, thankfully, most of them are over stupid things (like the dog shitting in the corner of the room).
However, lashing out at Javi wasn’t okay and the incident forced me to recognize that the real source of my angry outburst needed to be addressed. I had avoided dealing with it long enough. The first thing I did was to confide to my cousins, Jen and Candy, that I was having trouble controlling my emotions. They warned me that I might have bipolar disorder. It runs in my family and deep down I have always suspected that I had it too. Bipolar disorder, also known as manic depressive disorder, is a condition in which you experience extreme mood shifts, from severe depression to manic irritability or euphoria. I knew my cousins were right because I could go from being at zero to full-throttle angry in minutes. Then, I would be fine a few minutes later. I want to be clear that being bipolar does not mean that I, or anyone else who has it, is violent. Contrary to some of the gossip and rumors that have been circulated, I am not an aggressive or violent person. I visited the doctor and the diagnosis proved my cousins’ instincts were correct. I was relieved the solution was simple. Regular counseling and medications were the steps to a better me.
These dramatic events were enough to last me decades. I focused my attention on what mattered. Javi and I began planning our future together. After all, he had become my chosen family. In order to provide a future for himself and our family, he decided to join the United States Air force. He would be both serving our country and giving us stability. This noble, selfless commitment proved his loyalty not only to me, but to a greater good, something bigger than the both of us.
This career choice meant a very big change for how we would operate as a couple and, although I was proud of Javi, I was scared for what it would mean for us.
Chapter 14
Girl Friends
Meanwhile, there were problems brewing from the outside, from someone who I had thought cared about me. I wasn’t prepared that the next crisis in my life would involve my close friend, Aria. In my opinion she had been bringing herself down by befriending strippers and changing herself to fit into her new crowd. I confronted her, making it clear that I didn’t want to be around that lifestyle and we couldn’t be friends if she continued to be a part of it. This fight led us to the end of our friendship and worse.
Aria and I had been friends for years. I didn’t want to lose her friendship, but sometimes you have to let go of an unhealthy relationship even if it means losing something that used to be great. The issue between us quickly escalated into the biggest blowup I had ever had in my life, and by the end some old skeletons from my past I had been dragged out into the public eye.
Back in middle school, I had this friend with whom I was close, very close. In fact, our friendship was blurry and experimental. We didn’t have boyfriends, so we used to practice on each other. We kissed and touched each other. At such a young age, I didn’t stop to analyze what this meant about my sexuality—even though I knew we had a unique friendship, and the twinges of jealousy I felt ached more than if she was just a regular friend. I’d get upset if she hung out with other friends, thinking she could be doing the same things with them. Was I just being promiscuous? I never considered myself to be gay. We hid the physical part of our relationship from her mom because we knew we were different from the other girls at school and we had some instilled guilt that we were doing would not be considered “acceptable.” Looking back, I realize that I thought of her as my girlfriend even if we never officially acknowledged it. Years later, she came out as a lesbian.
Since then, I had only had sexual experiences with guys. Girls never crossed my mind again as an option—until Aria. To clarify my relationship with Aria: we never dated. We were never teetering between friendship and a relationship. While I was still living at Jo’s, we hooked up once. This wasn’t Girls Gone Wild shit. I felt an indescribable love for Aria. It wasn’t romantic love, but that didn’t make it any less meaningful.
There was a deleted scene from Teen Mom 2 where we discussed the nature of our friendship and if it would ever go further. I had never really sat down to examine my sexuality, but Aria was convinced I was gay like her. I didn’t want to be stereotyped as a closeted lesbian. For me it’s much more complicated than that. . I was happy with Javi and I felt like Aria wanted to destroy that. Maybe she thought her influence would help me be a free butterfly and declare my true sexuality to the world, but I felt like she was too intensely eager to push me towards girls. There is no denying my attraction to certain women, but in my mind there was no need for the discussion because experimentation is as far as I ever wanted to go. I
honestly believe that nobody is completely straight and attraction to the same sex is natural, but Aria’s insistence that I should only be with girls was not true to who I am. I felt like she kept telling me what I wanted, but really it was just what she wanted. I didn’t want to be with Aria or any girl for that matter. I should have been clearer with her, but I lightly passed the discussion off with a mere shrug and a “maybe” to being open to dating women.
Instead of allowing me to make my own choices, Aria told Javi that I was gay and I would eventually leave him for a woman. Javi believed she was telling the truth because Aria was my best friend. Why would she lie? He left me without even hearing me out and went to stay with some friends at Bloomsburg University, two hours away. I panicked beyond belief and went after him. As I drove, my mind raced through several horrible scenarios. I was terrified that I was about to lose the best thing that had ever happened to me. What if right now his friends were convincing him to end it with me? I could almost hear the lesbian jokes being thrown around at my expense. I didn’t need to be pigeonholed by anyone. My sexuality wasn’t a joke or anyone’s business.
I was hoping to have a calm discussion with Javi to explain that Aria had skewed our conversation to sound like I was interested in dating women, but I never got the chance. As soon as I arrived on campus, I was confronted by ten sorority girls, accompanied a guy who grabbed me and prevented me from seeing Javi. He repeatedly said how awful I was and the girls pushed me around. Luckily, I had two friends with me who shoved the guy off and tried to resolve the situation. But the incident continued to escalate. It was easily the worst night of my life. I went home to cry myself to sleep, wishing the mess would disappear and still hearing their screams of Fuck Isaac ringing in my ears.
Although—many, many months down the road—Aria did explain to Javi that she had misrepresented the details of our conversation in that moment he didn’t want to hear it. I was terrified he was finished with me for good. I felt like my world had been torn to shreds, leaving me alone and vulnerable. Aria was no longer my friend. Javi probably never wanted to see me again. What was I going to do now?
I waited. I hoped. As I slummed in misery, I heard Aria had sold the story she told Javi to the media. I don’t know if she really did, but the tabloids had a field day. I knew the rumors would stay rumors as long as I didn’t speak up, so I let the headlines slide by without comment. In no shape or form was I ashamed of my actions or who I was, but declaring myself a certain sexuality was a label that I refused to be burdened with. I wasn’t going to allow the media to use me as a poster child for closeted gays. It wouldn’t be fair to those who truly had such difficulty expressing who they are. Now that is a difficult journey.
Fundamentally, I knew there was one definite in my life—Javi. Thankfully, the love Javi and I possess proved to be stronger than the drama the rumors and lies had brought into our lives. Javi eventually cooled down and we were able to find a way around the anger and hurt.
The major cliché of what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger applies heavily in our case. Interrogating myself under a bright light for days crystallized one fact for me: I wanted to marry Javi. Deep down I had known it all along. I didn’t want to waste any more time holding back from what I truly wanted. Javi was opposed to waiting any longer, too. He would be entering the Air Force soon. We didn’t want to part without calling each other husband and wife, so we decided to marry in Vegas.
We went all the way south, with the MTV camera crew in tow, but our minds changed instantly. Eloping in a dime a dozen chapel below flickering fluorescent lights, where you could choose a sci-fi theme or have a fake Elvis memento seemed cheesy and unromantic. Once we got down there, I realized I didn’t want my wedding to be like that so we decided it would be best to wait.
Chapter 15
Steadfast Convictions
Religion tends to become an issue once marriage begins to come up in conversation. Javi’s family is very religious but fortunately they didn’t expect us to have a church wedding. Personally, I didn’t have a lot of expectations or demands for how the ceremony should be, but the one thing I have never wanted is a church wedding. I don’t want to be married in a church because I do not believe in God.
How can you not believe in God? I’m sure that’s what a lot of people want to ask me. For me, that question is actually easily answered. Just like some Catholics quote Bible passages to support their views, I look to the many experiences in my own life that have proved to me that there is no reason to believe.
I am not in any way susceptible to “Catholic guilt.” I can’t be frightened into faith by stories of the fiery pits of hell. Contrary to what some people think, atheists aren’t heathens with no moral compass. In fact, most atheists base their ideas on science, facts, and hard evidence. Atheism doesn’t make you less human, just a more a logical one.
I never had much interest in being part of a religious institution or community. To me, blind faith in the unknown or in an after life, is just an excuse to believe in something other than yourself. My perception of the universe is more existential. I believe in myself. Why believe in what’s basically an imaginary friend? There are other ways to explain the mysteries of life. I believe in science. Science can clearly debunk religious myths and provide concrete answers to what religion tries to explain through stories. I don’t believe a god created the universe. I rely on the Big Bang theory to understand Creation. Science helps me comprehend life and the larger picture of how we came to be.
I suppose my scientific mind is the result of having no religious influences during my childhood. I don’t remember my mom ever taking me to church or encouraging prayer. Occasionally, she told me to say a prayer before bed, but that’s it. It was the classic one most people say: Now I lay me down to sleep. I pray the Lord my soul to keep. If I should die before I wake, I pray the Lord my soul to take. If you think about it, saying take me to heaven in case I die tonight is a pretty morbid way to end your day. I think it’s a cheap way to try to get into heaven even if you weren’t particularly religious or a good person in life.
The idea of living after my bones wither to nothing is more disturbing than comforting to me. Living forever, as though we are never truly put to rest, is a scary thought. A true end to our lives on earth seems more natural. I don’t believe there’s anything after this. From a rational, scientific perspective an afterlife makes no sense to me. I’ve never encountered ghosts or spirits so I have no belief in them either. Once you’re dead, I believe you are gone completely. There’s nothing that follows.
Looking for factual evidence to provide an alternative explanation for life is frowned upon by some people of faith. To me, there’s no solid proof of God’s existence. I believe the Shroud of Turin can be explained in one of two ways: either it was an elaborate hoax or there is a scientific explanation of how some guy’s face became imprinted on an old rag. I know that I may sound cynical, but to be honest I’d rather turn to my dog for help than pray to a god we have no proof even exists.
For me religion creates more questions than answers. Like when people say, Life’s a test. I’ve watched too many good people become engulfed in shitty situations, to find comfort in that idea. Why would a god put people through terrible things? I don’t care if you’re testing me. To me, that’s like saying Jigsaw was definitely doing a righteous move by torturing strangers in Saw. I understand that for many, being part of the church is comforting. I go to the gym to obtain similar effects. Physical and spiritual all in one for the price of twenty dollars a month!
Joking aside, even though I just can’t bring myself to blindly believe in an abstract being, since faith is primarily based on a being you can’t see or touch, I do believe it takes guts to go on that alone. Even though I have strong opinions I try to respect other people’s beliefs.
***
My own family’s history is a testament to the randomness of the universe and all the proof I need that there is no grand divine plan. Misfortun
e and tragedy have been a constant in our lives, passed down like toxic heirlooms from one generation to the next. Beginning with my grandparents, two of the most saintly people I’ll ever know. Together, they have experienced more unjustifiable loss than anyone ever should.
My grandfather was in a car accident that resulted in an innocent death. According to my mom, he stopped on a steep hill. When he moved forward a van was speeding toward him and he couldn’t stop in time to prevent a collision. He crashed into this oncoming vehicle and one of the children on board was killed. It was someone else’s mistake, but he was devastated. Ultimately, the evidence proved he was not at fault, but he could not shake the guilt. There was no intent or even negligence on his part, yet in his mind he condemned himself. Can you imagine living with that?
My grandfather was never a fan of crowds and being surrounded by a ton of people, but in addition to my Aunt Jodi’s death, the accident pushed him farther away from people. He shut himself off from the world. Despite all this tragedy my grandfather has remained strong. His legs were already bad from his time as a marine, but they have deteriorated significantly as he struggles to take care of my grandmother. She’s in the middle stages of Alzheimer’s. Recently, she was put into a nursing home. Alzheimer’s disease is a neurological disorder that causes your brain cells to die. Your memory fades. Your lover’s face is no longer familiar. Love is gone. Your body wastes away to nothing. I don’t want the images. I wish I could hold her hand to comfort any part of her that is still here. To me, my grandfather’s strength and determination to take care of his wife in the face of such hopelessness defines faith.
Is disease a test? Is it a punishment? What did my grandmother do to deserve such a brutal disease? Still not convinced? What about miscarriages? What’s the plan there? My grandmother had two of them.
Next is the death of my aunt at the hands of a drunk driver at the age of eighteen. My mother never fully recovered from the loss and I feel she has used alcohol to numb her pain ever since. Why did she have to lose her sister? If God had a plan, he would have known my mother would turn to alcohol. Ironically, her drinking is exactly what started me down the road to atheism. Was that part of the plan, too?
Pride Over Pity Page 8
