My new fetish, besides the old bacon standby, is perusing around in antique shops. The gaggy smell in those old shops is almost worse than walking down the pet food aisle at the grocery store, but it’s totally worth it to me.
I mean, I could spend hours (and I literally have) looking at interesting old crap, reminiscing about that old crap, and taking pictures of that old crap. Ideas for stories pop into my head constantly just by the memories that the old crap invokes.
And then I ran into this little gem yesterday while goofing off at my favorite antique store:
My mind was inundated with old toy and game memories from when I was little. I didn’t actually own this sexist set of fun-ness, but my aunt did and I loved playing with it. I had all kinds of imaginings as a young girl, with that picture perfect housewife mentality, the white fence, two sets of twins (2 boys, 2 girls), a handsome hard-working doctor of a husband and pearls around my neck. Pearls.
I lived that life once I married Devon. It really was perfect. I had everything I ever dreamed of and thought I needed. I was in love, honestly, and the whole Leave It To Beaver lifestyle was mine, ALL MINE.
Until the day of Devon’s Big Reveal. I wasn’t kidding in one of my recent posts that I was actually joking when I said to him, “What are you, gay or something?”
He said, “So you knew this whole time?”
Seriously, it really happened that way and my pearl strings broke in that instant.
I never would have pictured myself as anything other than Susie Homemaker until that moment, the moment where everything changed.
The thing I found in the antique store that I felt reflected me the most NOW is this:
Through determination (by dealing with heartbreak head-on and not avoiding reality by staying in my bitterness) I focus these days on a new way of thinking and not that old-fashioned Leave It To Beaver thing. I have turned into one tough cookie. This took years, people, YEARS. It didn’t happen overnight. Sometimes I would feel proud and strong and then within the blink of an eye, I felt defeated and bitter all over again. So I’d deal with the old shit and try to work out the antiquated things by facing the reality of my situation.
And then I got effing cancer. Talk about a slap in the face. In fact, it felt more like someone had taken a hit out on me and hired that smarmy Guido dude to off me.
But we all have inner strength, ladies and gentlemen, that we don’t even realize is inside of us.
The majority of comments that I would get in those early days of my diagnosis went something like this: “God, Emily! How do you do it? I mean, your husband came out of the closet, you worked through those issues and now you have to deal with this? I don’t think I could do it.”
My response? Yes, yes you could. You deal with what life gives you. You’re stronger than you think you are.
Did I have days that I felt so sorry for myself that I even contemplated not LIVING? Absolutely. Just ask my ex-boyfriend, best friend (My Personal Midget), sister or even Devon. I felt so damn sorry for myself that it was pathetic. Absolutely pathetic. My tear ducts were emptied on a daily basis and I got so depressed that I didn’t want to see anyone, even those who would call and want to be with me just to keep me company. Somehow, SOMEHOW, I made it through.
And now when something else horrible happens (‘cuz it has) I think: I popped three kids out of my vajayjay, dealt with Jerry Springer shit with my husband, handled being slapped in the face by religion and endured months of weakening chemo. Go fist yourself, Adversity!
I am woman! Hear me roar!
The divorce thing is tough. I get it. It may be the toughest thing you’ll ever have to endure.
Depending on where you are in your divorce process, you may actually feel like not living at some point. Your hopes and dreams have been completely destroyed. Your future, if you can see any of it, is going to look completely different… FOREVER. The worry you feel on a minute-by-minute basis may be too much to bear.
But trust me when I say, you’re stronger than you think you are. You will deal with what life gives you. Your process toward a happier and confident future will be completely unique and in the end, beautiful. I am living proof. In fact, I’m predicting that if you face it head on and roar like the strong person that you are, you may eventually think your old shit is a blessing.
Hang in there. Screw you, Adversity. You are strong, you are woman (or man), hear you roar!
Blessings and New Shit,