Aurora's Briar

My mom has had Covid for 10 days now and is still positive. What can I do to help? Nothing. I’ve had a cold. Ish. More like I’ve just felt like crap because I’m worried. I’m worried about her.

What if she never gets better? What if we can’t go back to work? What if she has to go into the hospital and the bills start to rack up and I can’t get to work because I can’t drive and I’ll be so stressed out even if I do go to work because she won’t be there and ….

I can’t lose my best friend!!! I can’t be left here with just my dad. I have no one else. Anyone who has even remotely come into my life, I drive them away because of my relationship with my mom and I do something stupid to make our friendship weird. Don’t get me started on boys. Ha! What boys? What male human wants to be with someone who “wants her mommy” when things get rough, or I have to see the doctor or I get sick or I want to do something fun.

I don’t know how to live my life without her. I just don’t. And the worst part is that if she does die, I will probably die after. There’s no way I can do this without her. This…this sorry excuse of a life I have. I’m nothing. I’m a burden and would definitely become more of one if she isn’t here. What would I do? What would dad do? I’d sell everything. I wouldn’t do parties or story times or sing or anything. It would be too hard. I can’t…I just can’t. I need her.

I’m 34. THIRTY F-ING FOUR.

What the hell is wrong with me? I hate this stupid disease. I hate that it’s everywhere. I hate that people are dying and no one cares. I’m tired of the divisiveness.

I’m crying again. Crying myself to sleep again wishing it was me. Wishing I were the one who was infected. It would be easier. No lives dependent on me. It would hurt less.

I don’t want to become resentful and bitter in the jobs I have. Every time I think about putting together a show for more than just me, I get tired; dismissive. I don’t care about it. If it’s subpar…who cares? I’ll do the next one myself and make up for it. I love performing but…I only want to do it myself. Me. Just…me.

I don’t want to be at a middle school anymore. I hate this age. I hated it when I was there. I need a new job.

I’m so sick and tired of the lack of empathy and understanding there is for people of faith. There are so many lifestyles and points of view in the world, but if someone even so much as whispers a religion or faith based belief or practice, a cold, hateful and judgmental response is given.

Yes, the world is evolving but, some things have roots and I have experienced many tests of faith and miracles from those times that it would be foolish for me not to believe. How could I disregard what I know to be true in my life and how I’ve been pulled up from near death?

I’m tired. It’s exhausting trying to be an example but have so much bombarding you at every turn.

Okay - first off, a question out into the void:

Why am I always attracted to men who are broken that I want to fix? Why do I always want to help when not asked, needed or even welcomed? Why do I constantly ask these questions in doubting my own value as a woman/potential partner?

WHY? What the hell is wrong with me? Why can’t I be okay with people being genuinely interested in me and being satisfied with that person? I have no clear answer. What I do know is this:

I am having serious PTSD from being here right now. In the basement - the room where it happened if you will. Oddly enough - it’s the same comforter we slept together in. We had sex. All we shared - those secrets are known by this thick/fluffy piece of material. And I’m finding it hard to breathe. I don’t sleep well. These walls. This concrete. All of it KNOWS.

And I miss him. I say that I don’t, but I miss the intimacy. The words. The kisses and the gentle touch. The passion. But what twists this around so much is … I thought of Levi the ENTIRE time. What kind of sick person DOES that? You’re making love to one person while thinking of another. Like - WTF?!

I wonder if I’ll ever snap out of this. I wonder if I’m just damaged goods forever and I screwed up everything I could have had. I’ll just keep on pretending that everything is okay. But damn…I just know things will always be the same.

It was on something stupid. But he commented.

It’s always out of the blue. It almost feels insincere. But damn it, I love him. I have never loved anyone more than him. His talents outweigh his faults - even after all this time we’ve been apart. I’ve not seen him in years. I miss his voice. I miss his expressions. I miss they way his voice changes from emotion to emotion. I miss his creativity. I miss his highs, his lows and everything in between. I miss all of him.

I’ve stayed away. I’ve done so because he asked me to and I’ve never wanted to make him angry. To disappoint him or anger him would kill me.

I’ve only wanted to make him happy. Since day one. I want to sing with him forever. I want to do life with him and love him into the eternities. He said he wanted the same…but not until it was seemingly too late or that he wouldn’t have anything to lose. I feel like it scared him that I loved him so deeply. I don’t ever feel anything without purpose. I don’t take love lightly even if I’ve made physical and sexual mistakes.

He is the only one I see. He is the only one I feel and want beside me. But it can’t be wished. It can’t happen on a whim. If he doesn’t want to give himself wholeheartedly, then it cannot happen.

So many times during the day, I find myself thinking of him. He truly embodies everything I want.

Alcohol.

Sex.

All are addictions that can be used as coping mechanisms for stress/trauma.

Mine is food.

With my dad’s accident and being unable to work for the foreseeable future, I’ve turned to food. Unfortunately, that means I can’t work one of my jobs. I can’t be the actor I want to be. I’m fat - the heaviest I’ve ever been. 220 pounds.

And I hate myself for that and other reasons. I know for a fact that I will never be seen as worth anything. I’m past the expiration date for so much and it kills me knowing that my brothers are so happy and have built such wonderful lives for themselves. I won’t ever have that.

No. Not a therapist.

I’ve met with a few therapists over zoom and in apps. I’m not impressed. They do give off a good vibe. I’ve felt judged or hurried to get them a notch in their belt of a success story.

So. This amazing human is someone I NEVER thought would give me the time of day but, I’m trying to put myself out there and be more vulnerable to any connection. I am grateful that it has happened. Connection without strings.He’s in a state of flux, change, loss and rebuilding. His perspective is one that links to mine and also a male perspective that I didn’t know I needed.

I’ll admit, he is attractive. I’m not going to lie that I had hope to maybe connect with him. But he is not in a place to allow that and to be honest, neither am I.

We speak freely. Every topic. Nothing is off the table. And it’s been refreshing to have that again. I haven’t had that since Levi. I miss not having a guy friend (not a boyfriend), to be able to bounce ideas off of and to be a hype man or even the voice of reason.

Utah ♥️ you aren’t Arizona but you are pretty.

I’ve come to understand something this trip. Well a few things actually.

* My brothers make stunning children. Kudos to my SIL (sister in laws) as well because... half of that if not more is really them

*Our family dynamic sure has changed in the last decade - heck...5 years. It’s sad. It’s remarkable. It’s somber. It makes me proud. It makes melancholy. There was a point when my brothers lived at home before Burk’s mission and Cody went to Utah. I miss that time. We were all close. I felt like we had found our sweet spot as siblings. Then when Burk moved to Utah after his mission, we adjusted and that was another nice moment. Of course we had distance but, we were still tight. Then marriages, new family, kids and well...you know. I miss my brothers. I miss them at home. I miss the close relationship they had with mom, dad, granny, papa and many others. They have their own lives. They have...they have more. We don’t have more or less, we just have the same. The before. And it’s different.

* One of my SILs asked me if I’ve started dating at all. I didn’t have the heart to tell her - not that I should really or have to, about the whole Stephen story. Mostly because it involves her home that I didn’t respect. I just said I didn’t have anything to choose from really. It wasn’t on my priority list. Anything about relationships makes me have minor panic attacks and sleeping in her basement this trip...I had nightmares thinking back to the Christmas 2 years ago that I screwed up.

*Things will always be different. Always. The boys will never come home for the holidays. I would put money on that. We will never be all together again. No more memories made. Aunt Tara will never come to Tucson again. We will never see her family. It makes me incredibly sad and I wish I could change it all.

* Maybe this is harsh but, I don’t dare leave home. I won’t leave mom alone with dad. It’s slowly becoming a Grandma and Grandpa situation and maybe I’m Jeff in this equation but...I’ve tried being on my own and it fails horribly. College, shows, dating...I’m a librarian/teacher forever. It’s fact. I could do more but I’m 33 years old. How can I do anything now? I wasted my 20’s. It’s fine.

*There are many owners that are closing their businesses because they feel like they are aging out. I’m way passed my time to do so. I foolishly think I’m still “young” looking. Hilarious. I’m contemplating selling a lot of costumes and moving on. Definitely the more ethnic characters

* I’m unhappy. Restless. People who talk to me are like “oh, you’re young” or “you have time left...he’s out there.” Bull. In our church culture, no man would want me now. I’m damaged. I’m used goods. I’m the worst kind of sinner. I broke one of the 10 big commandments and I have yet to feel peace, comfort or guidance. No matter what I do, I feel like I’m not worthy of forgiveness. I slept with every man I roped in with full knowledge that what I was doing was wrong. In fact...during the act I would stop, feel like shit and see the longing in my partners eyes and feel like I didn’t have a choice no matter what I felt. I always thought I would say no...and instead, the truth is that I was the aggressive instigator. I wanted control because of the time I had none. It doesn’t make sense. I feel like the part of me that knew right from wrong just left. Because of the first time being full of trauma, I had to have the power so that I wouldn’t have that happen again - the feeling of powerlessness. None of it makes sense. People have sex all the time, with many people and they don’t feel this guilt, shame, stress and despair.

As I held Burk’s daughter, I could only transmit one thought to that beautiful being silently through my eyes: DO NOT BE YOUR AUNT. Please stay beautiful and unspotted from the world. Be better, do better, think better. You are the future and I don’t know what I would do if this experience became yours.

During the last month, 5 friends and acquaintances have announced they are having babies. Almost 10 have announced engagements. I can’t begin to tell you how many are buying homes, moving up with their jobs, etc.

Blah blah blah

I know. I know I have no leg to stand on to be jealous or angry or sad or every one of those emotions rolled into one. I feel like Beth from Little Women...”I love being home. But I don’t like being left behind.”

I have put my heart on the line so many times and received the pieces in return.

This second picture? This is the same basement - only now finished - where my fiancé slept together 2 years ago. Against my better judgment, I thought that by having more sex it would disguise the hate and guilt I felt about myself and doing what we were doing...what I was doing. I made a choice. I initiated it - every night. I thought by continuing to sleep with him it would erase the shame of letting myself down. Religion aside, I wanted to wait until marriage. And now I will never get that back. NEVER.

NEVER.

So this strange picture of a wall is a metaphor for the emptiness in my heart and soul. I would be lying if I said that this gets better. The pain is still fresh. I haven’t set up counseling. I see the different temples as we are visiting Utah and instead of the awe and joy I should feel, I only feel dirty, useless and unworthy. No matter the messages I listen to, the scriptures I read or the interviews I have with my Bishop...I don’t feel better. I feel worse. I feel eyes are always watching. And I have had panic attacks being in this house. My brother and sister-in-law are great but I don’t think I can come back here. The walls hold the memories of what they heard and saw.

For that I am ashamed.

I think we all know now why I’d post the first picture. I’m hopeless. This isn’t a Disney movie and I’m no virginal princess. Scratch that from the list of what I wish I could’ve been. No costume, no wig, no amount of makeup can hide the shame and disgust I feel every.single.day. Sorry kids but Elsa is a stupid, worthless bitch in real life who continues to sleep with guys because she rationalizes that once she makes that mistake, she might as well just keep doing it over and over and the men will change and/or love her more.

Newsflash - it doesn’t work.

I think I’ll just become a villain in my own story. Sorry about the ruse and inconvenience of my existence up until now.

I go through it constantly. I shouldn’t. I’ve been told over and over that my mental and emotional health will suffer. That he doesn’t care or he would be back - he would still be part of my life. How could leaving my life been the right choice?

I loved him and love him still. My immediate love for him scared me. There were moments when I thought that this couldn’t be, that I couldn’t be the one he would want. Then he kissed me. In that one moment, it was as if I put all the chips on the table, that I gave him everything.

And the sad thing was, I wanted to be there for it all. I wanted to experience the happy and sad moments. Every fight. Every make up. Every adventure. Every growth and set back. The sad part - I told him that and scared him. What does that make me? Make him?

Almost 4 year. 4 in June. That Father’s Day. I will never forget crying because of his tears and hopelessness but trying to hold myself together to be his strength. I wanted to be nothing more than the one he could find safety in. Love. Comfort. Instead, he was upset. He told me to leave. He wanted me to find someone better, someone that deserved me.

Problem was - is, it was him. It will always be him. I found in him the man that I could find love, passion, care, understanding, power, kindness and more. I saw a family. I saw him as a dad...oh, such an amazing dad. His kids turning to him for guidance in life and the Gospel. He would be the head of a home in Christ, in love for all this life gives.

He still may be those things. But what hurts the most - like a dagger in my heart; I won’t be at his side. Things in my life have been upside down without him. The inspiration he sparks in me has left a huge, gaping wound. Many people who know of our road would tell me to move on. Focus on my own mental health and path and grow from the experience.

But he wasn’t an experience. He was/is the man my heart loves. Deeply. And even if I never see him again, if I never get to talk with him or laugh with him again - I will spend the rest of my life trying to find the same feeling somewhere else.

I’m not sure it lives anywhere else for me. Some people have multiple love affairs. I only wanted one. One complete and true love.

This week alone, I have contemplated suicide 3 times. It would be easy. Take all the pills of my meds and mix em with some of my dads and I’d go into cardiac arrest. I seriously believe that I would be at the forefront of certain peoples thoughts of I were dead.

I hate Valentine’s Day. Last year, I had a Valentine because I was engaged. But then I found out who this man truly was. I LITERALLY felt stupid, gullible and used. So I’m back to square one : no man, no friends, no nothing.

My friends are gone but what’s sad is my best friend completely cut me off and she’s pregnant. The rest of my cast is younger than me. They have their own lives and adventures to live. I feel as though I come off too needy - too annoying when it comes to friendships.

No one at church fits in with who I am. No one is an arts person in my age bracket. They are either in medicine, work at Raytheon OR stay at home moms.

Now, because I have screwed up so much of my life (pun intended), I need therapy because of the mixed messages I keep getting. I can’t even afford therapy. I sure as heck don’t want to keep reliving my past to one person after another. Yes, I’ve screwed up, mentally, physically and spiritually.

Even though I know it’s over, I still love Levi. To hear from him that he loved me too back then but never told me is infuriating. The way he just pushed me out of his life is degrading. But guess what? I text him. I tag him in things. I try to start up a conversation when I know for a fact I will get no reply. WHY DO I KEEP DOING THIS? Because out of all the guys I’ve had experiences with - good and bad, he has been the stand out gentleman. He made me feel safe. He supported me. We clicked - until we didn’t. I fought for it, but he didn’t. I guess I can’t accept it because, for the first time, a man saw me not as a voice or a daughter of... or a best friend; he saw me as a woman. Throughout it all, I still loved him. I still love him.

Today was not great. Sure...you can throw a nice dinner together and watch one of your favorite voices sing in a virtual concert and heck, even make cake...but it doesn’t replace the ache you feel when everyone around you has someone.

The closest I’ll even get is the dog being my Valentine.

I’m sad, angry, hurt, tired, overweight and I’m losing any ans all passion for what makes me happy.