To My "Not Just a Guy" Guy

12 years ago, I sat in front of a guy at the Red Lion Pub on Lincoln Avenue on a "school night" at 1:00am, drinking pints of Guinness.  He wasn't just a regular guy.  He wasn't my "usual" sort of guy with a big mouth, a high tolerance for booze and a short fuse for life - dangerous & unpredictable.  He wasn't a button-pusher. He didn't say things to purposely try to get me to flip my switch, because in his own weird world of issues, he equated those heated arguments with love.  That wasn't love.  That was pain.  I thought love was supposed to hurt to mean something.  12 years ago, that was my truth.  That was not his truth - this guy.

So, there I sat with this "not just a guy" guy.  I knew from the minute he introduced himself to me - not to make a move or to lay down some line that I would PROBABLY have gone for, because, in those days, I equated attention with validation (another time we will address how I learned how that is total bullshit) - but rather, simply to introduce himself in a grown-up way and then he sat down to fix my computer.   As I stood behind him and he patiently explained what was wrong with it (I wasn't listening at all), my mind wandered as it ALWAYS does and a voice inside my crazy brain said "what if you married that guy."  I had to stop and look around and make sure that no one else heard that.  What?  Marry? Marry who?  This guy?  The computer guy?  The quiet, polite, seemingly far too shy for me and wearing a ridiculous shirt computer guy?  I have a boyfriend.  He's an ass, yes, but a boyfriend nonetheless, and my relationship mojo was so off that I was not going anywhere anytime soon.  I was sticking with Mr. Asshole, but I WAS NOT getting married, let alone to a stranger in khakis.  Seriously?  I was convinced I needed medication for sure in that moment.  For the record, I was teetering on the edge of an emotional break, anyway, so medication was probably a good idea.

I proceeded to make myself go out with a group of people after work that I would have really rather never met in my life, just so the two of us could sit for hours and make fun of them while we got really drunk and talked about things I have never talked with anyone about.  My love for acting, the craft of acting and the true gift it is to make people laugh.  His love for writing.  Our love for films and dreams of making films. He wrote a screenplay.  He didn't roll his eyes at me when I made up character voices and spoke of my goal to move to LA - just packing it all in and off I go!  He had the same goal.  What he didn't know is that I was unable to cut the ties that bound me and terrified of what people would think of me.  I had responsibilities.  What I didn't know is he was fearless and lived like a nomad.  He wore that goofy shirt, because he spent money on things like driving up and down the East coast writing a script or going to Europe and working his way to the Cannes Film Festival all by himself.  Clothes were an aside.  That was his grandpa's shirt and he needed clothes to wear to this dumb job.  He wasn't about to pay for them, since it was temporary.  He said this with complete confidence.  Weird.

11 years ago, once again over boozy heads and giggles he said "come with me."  I said "in case you didn't realize it by now, I am crazy.  You can't handle this sort of crazy in your life.  For real...."  He had been my friend - a true friend - for all these months.  I knew he liked me and I liked him, but he respected that I was in a weird place and he never pushed.  Of course, my crazy mind said "see, there is SOMETHING wrong with him - no moves - for real?"  Well, he had moves.  He was making them.  I was just far too blind to recognize it.  They weren't the moves I was used to.  He had a new, fancy play book.

He moved.  He left.  But, he wasn't a jerk about it.  He didn't rub it in my face or just toss our "relationship" aside.  He wrote to me.  Wrote to me?  Yes, that is what I said.  He wrote me letters.  No, it wasn't 1822.  It was 2001 and he wrote me long, amazing letters.  We talked a little, but mostly it was letters.  It was in those letters that I knew where I wanted to be and I was terrified, but I packed up and left it all behind.  I never felt so free in my life!

8 years ago, today, I married that "not just a guy" guy on a golf course in Palm Springs.  He asked me to marry him in the empty living room of our tiny one bedroom West Hollywood apartment.  I was too tired to climb to the top of the Hollywood sign, as he had planned, so he moved all of our furniture to our neighbor's (I still don't really get that one) and set up a table in the center of the room with candles and my favorite food from Asia de Cuba (not your typical take-out).  My crazy mind went haywire. "Was he breaking up with me? Well, he can go!  Did he take all of our IKEA furniture? He's lost his damn mind!"  He asked me and I threw up, cried and said "are you kidding? If so, that is really mean." We eloped. (Something I said I would never do).  I was 6 months pregnant (another thing I said I would never do - get married AFTER getting pregnant, that is).  I know what people thought.  Hell, I know what I allowed my mind to think in my many weak-minded moments.  Shot gun! I have heard people say to my face "if anyone is going to mess this one up, it is going to be YOU."  They were right.  I tried. :)

But, here he sits with his special play book and his patience and amazing heart and undying support - loving me through the last five years of an unexpected cancer diagnosis (those of you who know cancer know that it isn't just the physical disease that can rock one's world and the world of the lives of their loved ones) & the past year of what was initially thought to be a reoccurrence and, ultimately, was called out as Lupus.  The many stops and starts of "here we go again."  The many biopsies, tests, misdiagnoses, soul-crushing fear.  Lovingly wiping his sleepy eyes after I woke him up to teach him to make a ponytail, because I was suddenly terrified I would not be here for my baby girl and, somehow, convincing myself him having the ability to make a ponytail was what was most important.  I have not thanked him enough and let him know that I know the strength it took for him to watch this go down the way that it has.  Thank him for not running for the hills even when I locked him out - pushed him out.

The girl who used to match him beer for beer, sang, danced and laughed in front of as many strangers as I could, any chance that I got, would jumped on any last minute adventure bandwagon suddenly became his wife who was often tied to a couch or a machine or toilet bowl or a box of kleenex in a moment and for a really long time.  The "not such a guy" guy, became a ponytail-making, playdate-hosting, crock-pot using, hair-holding, medical information-managing, stress-blocking, party-planning, little's girl's super daddy and my husband.

Thank you, Johnny, for believing that love is stronger than any curveball that life will throw at you and reminding me of that everyday.  Thank you for being not just a hands-on daddy, but my 150% partner in all of it.  Thank you for loving me under, over and through it.  Thank you for towing the line, reeling me in and letting me fly.  Thank you for talking me down, holding me up and pushing me when it was necessary.  Thank you for staying true to YOU even when life made it hard... or I made it impossible. :) Thank you for never taking me too seriously even when the shit was REAL serious.  Thank you for writing me those letters all those years ago.

~ Life makes love look hard. The stakes are high, the water's rough, but this love is OURS ~ 

I love you, Ash. Happy lucky number 8!

Lets Face It...

It seems like an eternity that I have been writing about my "slippery" days with cancer.  Before, during and after... all the while, learning and changing and growing. Meeting new friends and transitioning as a person. Kicking it's ever-loving ass and then having it kick mine a little and then rallying once again.  I am a new person after cancer, as I have said so many times.  I am a better person.  I am still angry some days or frustrated with the changes that hold me down unlike before, but my outlook on life is so much more clear and my love for life is so much stronger.  I am so much better than I ever was at talking about my feelings and living in them rather than around them or pretending they do not exist all-together - that was really my best trick.  I don't run from emotion. I embrace it. Good, bad or ugly, because I know that, in the end, I will be better for it.  I got the hang of my new normal and, yes, life then threw me another more curve ball.

Lupus.

After finally giving up my embargo on learning about Lupus, I am slowly starting to understand why they call it "the disease of 1000 faces."  It is a sneaky little jerk-off of a disease.  Just when you think you are starting to figure it out, it changes course.  Positive tests turn negative. That's good, right? Doesn't matter. Negative tests turn positive. Is that bad?  We really can't say at this point.  Do you feel better that you finally know why you have been sick all this time... again?  No. Not really.  I am living with an uncertain disease and that can't ever feel "better."  Are you glad they didn't say it was cancer?  Here's a shocker... No.  I know how to do cancer now. We go way back.  I've lived it for so long that I know who to talk to and where to go and what emotions come with it.  I know the tests, the doctors, the fears. I know the statistics and the drugs and the prognosis for remission.  I don't know Lupus.  We just met and so far, I don't like it's attitude.  Truth.  I actually did not feel as sick as I have felt with Lupus, as I ever did with cancer.  Now, I know my cancer was not nearly the harshest cancer out there and I was spared some of the harshest treatments, but unfortunately, I may not get that chance with Lupus and no one can tell me one way or another.

You wake up one day and you feel great.  You recognize it.  You REALLY recognize it.  You find the energy to get dressed, put on make-up, blow out your hair.  You look pretty.  You recognize it.  You REALLY notice.  You make plans to do all of the things that have been waiting for you from the days before when you got stopped short by the extreme fatigue, fevers, headaches, joint pain, rashes or the like.  You make your list and you look forward to the simplest things, like finally getting that bathtub clean.  The clean where it shines and you want to get in it for a long bath.  You are excited for that coffee with your girlfriend that you have had to reschedule and change from drinks to dinner to lunch to coffee, because you know that is your only sure thing right now - you hope.  You commit yourself to walking your dog and you remember it was not too long ago that you were running with him a few miles a day. You wonder how far you will get with just a walk, but you don't care.  You are doing it.  You take note of the Groupon on your refrigerator for 8 yoga classes and you check the schedule to see if there is a beginner's class today, because you know you can't jump in where you left off back in March.  You decide that maybe even that is a bit much for today.  You take time to write out your Christmas cards.  Yep. You write them.  You weren't sure if you'd be able to get through all of them, but you do and you are proud.  You used to dread handwriting all those envelopes and, although you think printed labels are impersonal, you just didn't have time to write them all out. That was then.  You make time.  You pay closer attention to your auditions, your scripts and your performance, because you know you are up against some new things that you didn't have to think about before.  You are down 15 lbs., which doesn't always transfer well, commercially. You know this.  You are covering rashes on some days with make-up where you would normally just throw on some tinted moisturizer and lip gloss.  Your hair is not always the glorious beast you know and love.  You have to be on point to overcompensate for these things.  You do that.  You got it.  Your work is getting stronger, because you have started to find a rhythm.  You work for an amazing organization that understands you and understands illness, so what could be better?  They are supportive and supportive is outstanding.  You are happy to be doing something important that you care about and that works.

Then, you slowly start to feel as though your soul has fallen asleep inside your body and your muscles are melting in to the floor.  Damn it!  Not yet!  You haven't made it to scrubbing out that tub or the walking the dog. You still have to pick up your little one from school and handle homework and bath night and... shit, hives.

Ok. So, we will start again tomorrow with a new outlook... a new face.