[Disclaimer: names have been changed and some details minutely altered to protect the identity of the people in my life story. ]
I thought my next post (which I’ll refer to as chapters moving forward) would be about my childhood. Not in a general sense, but in a very specific context of my upbringing, the relationships with my parents and my siblings and how that experience molded me. But it turns out the writing determines its course, and not the other way around… that post will emerge in its time.
It’s also been longer than I expected to wait in between posts, but again, the writing determines its course. When the writing comes to me, it comes to me. I can’t force it. It emerges when it’s ready to. When it’s time.
In any event, I’ve always been a nostalgic person, slightly obsessed with the past, while simultaneously obsessed with futures of countdowns, milestones, and achievements. And while I believe there is truth in the adage that you shouldn’t look back because you’re not going that way, there is also truth in the adage that hindsight is 20/20. And in hindsight, I’ve chased love my whole life, and yet somehow I always felt like love eluded me even when it was tangentially within my grasp. When I finally found it, I’d find a way to destroy it, or in turn, let it destroy me. And I suspect that through the course of the life that hopefully still awaits me this process will continue to suck me into its vortex until such time that I can fully understand, accept, process, and acknowledge the experiences of my past, so that they no longer haunt me, but instead emerge as friendly spirits that I acknowledge and then move on my merry way.
I used to say in my 20’s (I’m now 37 at the time of writing this), that I felt like I’d lived the life of a 50 year old. I still feel that way. I was married for 10 years, in a subsequent relationship for 5 1/2 years after that, single for a year, and am now married to a woman I’ve been with for almost 3 years. In many ways I see my life as different journeys, if you will. The first journey was my life before I left home; my childhood and adolescence. My second journey was the marriage with my ex-husband, George, which overlapped with a polyamorous relationship with a woman, which we’ll call Elena, that lasted for about 4 years of my 10 year marriage to George. Then there’s my journey with a man we’ll call Matt.
This chapter won’t discuss the details of each quite yet, as that would take more time than I have inertia right now, and wouldn’t do it justice. Especially when it comes to George and Elena…No, they deserve much more than a single chapter. They gave me a love that taught me so much about myself and about love in general; about stereotypes, and self-limiting beliefs; about transformation and unconditional love.
As for Matt, well, let’s just say, for now, that Matt also deserves his own time in the sun, or in this case, in the darkness; for as painful as that parting was, it also taught me so much about myself, about love, about forgiveness, and about the darkness that we all harbor and shouldn’t be so quick to point out in others without first taking accountability of the darkness that also exists within each of us. The ying to the yang of purity… Yes, Matt will also have his appropriate allocation of time and story…
And then of course, there is Nichole. My wife. The journey that teaches me, but more importantly, that allows. That story will also be told in its time.
This, in essence, is a prologue to my stories, to my journeys…to the genesis of what and who I believe myself to be today. And I say believe because at this point in my life I am self-aware enough to know that I’m still on a journey of healing and self-discovery that I genuinely hope never ends. And thus, I also know that what I know of myself today may be very different than who I know myself to be tomorrow.
And then of course there is the tumultuously painful and also beautiful history of my childhood…but I’m not ready to go there yet… all in due time.
For now we’ll start here-with love. Because in its deepest sense, my intention for this project has always been about love. That’s all that’s ever really mattered to me. I see it in everything in life, from the most ugly and painful experience to the most exquisitely beautiful.
This epilogue is a forecast to what I will offer through a cathartic literary purge. And I can tell you this: the first journey began and was lived in the purest of love; the kind of love I was sure would end with both George and I growing old and dying together, side-by-side, within days of each other because we loved each other so much, we couldn’t possibly stand living very long without each other… It didn’t end that way. Instead it ended in my infidelity to not just George, but also to Elena; I left them both for Matt. But before you judge, keep reading. There is so much more to the story than I myself was ever able to recognize until enough time had passed, and lots of therapy.
My relationship with Matt, which I was certain would end in a marriage with two perfect children in a picture perfect home that would be the opposite of everything I was running away from in my childhood, ended in Matt’s infidelity to me (karma is a bitch and it is real); with one of my former best friends and possibly someone else I worked with to boot. Ironically, one of the things I complained to George about for years before I ultimately left him was that I wanted an official proposal even though we were already married (we got married in Courthouse fashion with no family or friends), which I never got in the 10 years we were together. So in karma’s most comedic fashion, Matt gave me the proposal I’d spent years asking George for, with a beautiful diamond and sapphire ring on a gorgeous sunny day in the Florida keys, but only after he’d cheated on me, ending our journey. Go figure.
In fact, it wasn’t until Nichole came along that at the age of 36, almost 18 years after my marriage to George, that was I proposed to properly, in a way that still makes my eyes water when I think about that day… that story will also be shared, in due time.
The purpose of this epilogue, and really, the point of all of this, the point of my writing, besides my own catharsis, is to show that love cannot judge nor be judged. For until you have been both the cheater and the cheated on, it is easy to declare a self righteous line between right and wrong; good and evil. But love is hardly, if ever, that black and white.
The truth is we are all the sinner and the saint. We are all the hero and the villain, if we are honest enough with ourselves. I hope that through the telling of my stories, you will see yourselves in your truest forms, and more importantly, you will see your parents and your partners differently. I hope by hearing my stories you will learn to extend those you love the most the grace of non-judgment, forgiveness, and ultimately, love in its purest form; that is…unconditional love.
Love,
Michelle Karinne Notte
Notte a Blogger... 