#becomeatiger

“Yeah, she’s fine - she just got a divorce, came out as a lesbian, and is moving to California.” 

My mother casually explained what would be just the beginning of the most tumultuous time of my life - to my concerned relatives who frequented Facebook. This single sentence was enough to encapsulate all the tears, frustration, and heartache I would feel over the last few years - as well as the sense of self-truth, optimism, and freedom that I’d never before experienced. 

I’m writing this in case anyone else who may happen to stumble upon my blog is experiencing such things - in the hopes that you may find some semblance of peace or reassurance that others have dealt with such trying times and have gotten through it. I can’t say that I’ve cracked the code, but I’m working on it and I hope that some of what I’ve learned along the way may help you to get through it, too. 

I like lists, so I’ll just list out a timeline of what happened to me. Maybe you have a similar timeline? I hope this adds some context and maybe even lines up a little with what has happened to you. I hope you find something useful in my ramblings and know that everything will be okay :) 

Anyway. 

It’s difficult to pinpoint for sure when my life began to shift, but here’s my attempt:

May, 2011

I met HIM. I’ll call him “C”, for privacy reasons. We met because I was trying to get one of my pseudo friends to go out with a guy who also wouldn't leave me alone. This sounds super harsh, but I call her a “pseudo friend” because she was a nice enough person, but it was difficult to spend time with her because she would constantly only point out the negative in other people. The guy who wouldn't leave me alone, first struck up a friendship with me when I was dating a friend of his and he tried to swoop in immediately after he and I had parted ways. He was nice, enough, too, but I just wasn’t interested. On their first date, they decided to go to a bowling alley - and the girl invited me to come along. Maybe I’d meet someone, too. I did. Turns out, the guy went to the bowling alley every week with a group of guys (including C). The first interaction I ever had with C was when my friend-girl showed me a video of a ferret destroying a roll of toilet paper. C walked into our conversation and exclaimed “big deal, I destroy toilet paper, too - every time I eat Mexican food.” Later, he admitted that he didn’t like the guy, either - and neither one of us were huge fans of my pseudo friend.  So for years after that, I would tell people that we met because of mutual hatred  and he won me over with a poop joke. 

2013

Was a really good year. He bought a house and we moved in together. I got my braces off. I graduated college and got promoted at work. My dad and C helped me buy a new car. Everything was looking up. 

2014

After I moved out and my middle brother went to college, things started falling apart at home. My parents never really got along, but things had taken a turn for the worse. 

2015

My parents got a divorce. It was my dad’s decision, which is huge because he was always a very quiet person and rarely stood up for his beliefs if he knew it would hurt another person. Looking back, I’m really proud of him. I love my mom, but I understand how hard that must have been for him to finally stand up and speak his mind. 

My mom took it extremely hard, for good reason. She had never lived alone. She had never had a job where she had to support herself. She never had a job, period, during the time that my parents were together. She had not finished college (she claimed, because of me - but later admitted that she really could have if she wanted to). 

This is the same year that I got engaged. C awoke from a nap and asked if I wanted to go to the park. We walked down to a river and I picked up a little pebble I thought was pretty and said, turning around to look at C, “do you like this rock?” He revealed the little ring box and asked me the same thing. I said “yes.” 

But, even with the piece of jewelry on my finger, the small hole that I’d always sort of had in my heart began to grow into a ravenous mouth. I knew I needed something but I wasn’t sure what. I looked into a career change. I talked to C about getting another dog - a puppy. I even hinted at the idea that maybe I was experiencing baby fever. I knew we weren’t ready for a child, but I had to be honest with him about how I felt. As time went on, this intense feeling of need began to get physically painful. There were times where I felt like a planet without a core and I was crumbling in on myself. There was something huge missing inside me and all I knew was that it had something to do with love. I needed something to nurture and needed to feel nurtured, but I didn’t know what to do with it. 

At this same time, a woman at work, in a different group approached me for a job in her department. I would be working under a different person on her team, but her and I clicked well and the group she was part of, was a company I had always dreamed of working for, so I was hopeful that maybe this change would help solve my intensely sinking feeling. 

2016

This was a major year - one of the most difficult that I’ve ever experienced. My mother ended up attempting suicide twice. 

Both times, I visited her in the hospital. The second time, I asked her to promise me that she wouldn’t end up there again. When she said “I’ll try.” I wanted to scream at her because I wanted something more substantial, more real and reassuring that she wouldn’t do it again.

But, I know how it is. I used to be suicidal, too. I was anorexic for 3 years growing up, but that knowledge only hurt me more because she saw how much my actions hurt her. Now, she was hurting me and my brothers. It was hard for me to comprehend at the time that she couldn’t even consider that, but I understand now. She was just feeling hopeless. She wasn’t doing it with the intention of hurting anyone. She was doing it with the intention of escaping the bad feelings and the harsh reality she was experiencing - that’s all. 

At the same time, I was planning a wedding with C. As a stereotypical guy, C wasn’t super involved. He was making a good bit more than me, but because the wedding is for the woman (or whatever they say), I paid for most of it. 

At work, I was becoming closer and closer with the woman who recommended me for my new position. I’ll call her “A.” A was amazing. She quickly became one of my best friends. I could talk to her about anything and everything. I talked to her about my parents’ divorce and my mom’s attempted suicides.

I talked to her about a conversation I had with my mom after the second attempt, when I decided that my mom and I should be honest with each other about everything. I told A what I said to my mother, that I felt like she was in constant competition with me. I told A what my mother said in response, that she felt like *I* was competing against *her.* I told A my response, too - that, if I had a daughter, I would want her to be better than me and I wouldn’t try and hold her back for fear of “competition.” A hugged me a lot and cried with me many times. 

A was a wonderful confidant. She would listen to me. She would ask me what I needed to feel better and she would do just that. 

This same year, I contracted pneumonia after numerous expensive urgent care visits. All they could say was that I was coughing a lot and it appeared to be some sort of respiratory infection, but when I was prescribed an inhaler and still couldn’t breathe, it was obviously something more serious. One night, it got so bad, that my heart rate skyrocketed. I couldn’t breathe and my heart was pounding from all the failed inhaler attempts. C called an ambulance and I was whisked away, forced to stay in the hospital for 3 days. The doctor told me later that they were about to put me in the ICU - if they hadn’t have been able to get my heart rate down in the knick of time. 

When I came back to work, A decided I should work under her team - which was just her. 

We started having weekly pow-wows where we would talk about what we would say to our VP to convince him to have HR make the change. We fought against the machine, in our heads. We were standing up to the patriarchy, in our imaginations. I felt more supported than I ever had in my life. Never before had anyone ever fought so hard for me. Finally, the sinking feeling in my chest and in my soul began to lift. A was slowly solidifying the emptiness I’d felt so viscerally just months before I met her.

I talked to C about A all the time. She was my best friend and after months of fighting, she became my boss.

C and I got married that April. Our wedding was very relaxed and fun. I walked down the aisle to a song called “I Like Giants” by Kimya Dawson - because I thought it would be funny and the tune was lively and happy-sounding. 

I didn’t want a stuffy, conventional wedding and C and I accomplished that pretty well. However, looking back now, the song is kind of a funny tip-off to the events that would unfold. I like Giants. Especially girl giants.

C and I went on our honeymoon to Maine in May and then came back as husband and wife, back to normal life.

That July, A and I and the rest of our team went on a work trip to California. We would be gone for a week on the other side of the country. C was excited for me and I was nervous.

While there, I didn’t see A much. I was mostly restricted to working from the hotel and then worked on the floor another couple of days. 

One day, though, I got a text from my mom that a terrorist attack had occurred in Germany, in the same town that my dad and brothers were staying. I panicked. She tried to call them, but didn’t hear anything. I called and texted my brothers - nothing. The whole world starting to feel unstable as if a global earthquake was happening and I had nowhere to hide. 

Finally, I got a text from my youngest brother later that day. The attack had occurred right by their hotel. The attacker was still on the loose, but they were safe. They were on lock-down, restricted to their room. 

I texted both C and A about what happened. I needed someone to talk to, to confide in and be comforted by. Both texted me back and A asked me to meet her at the bar immediately.

I went to the bar and she was already buzzed. She gave me a big hug and asked how I was doing. On the way to the bar, my brother texted me and let me know that the attacker was found. They shot him and though everyone was shaken, they were now safe.

I told her the news and we were both relieved, but still anxious by the possibility that it could have been much worse. A got close to me and put her hand on her chest, then on mine and said “from my heart chakra to yours”, as if transferring loving energy from her heart to mine. 

I teared up and she gave me a hug. I didn’t feel like being out, so I thanked her and said goodbye - that I was going back to my hotel. She said “goodbye” and hugged me again, then found me as I was walking to the door and hugged me once more. 

The next day was the last day we’d be in California. We had a big department-wide dinner at a restaurant overlooking the ocean. A and I sat across from each other by the window and admired the gentle, rhythmic motion of the waves in the darkness. 

We talked about psychic abilities and energy. We talked about tarot readings and meditation. We talked about the afterlife. All things that C was not interested in. (C believed that when we died, that was it. I respect his beliefs, but they’re not my own). 

At one point, A exclaimed that she was bisexual. She told this as part of a story, but I got a strange feeling that she was telling me specifically. I never knew anyone who wasn’t conventionally heterosexual. But, then again, I didn’t know many people and had only a handful of friends aside from A.

I was also homeschooled from 2nd to 10th grade, so I missed out on a lot of things - including different types of people. 

At the end of dinner, we all piled into two cabs. A and I got into the same cab and sat beside each other in the backseat. We were both pretty buzzed at this point and for some reason, got on the topic of love. (I guess I shouldn’t be too surprised because any time I’m drunk, this is usually the first topic I discuss). 

We talked about how same sex marriage should’ve always been okay. We talked about how anyone who loves each other should be together - how they shouldn’t be legally banned from each other. We talked about Cocorosie, the band, and how she didn’t know anyone else besides me who liked them - but she was a big fan.

We got to my hotel first. We said goodbye and she wrapped her arm around me in a hug... and kissed me on the neck. 

In that small moment. In that 2 seconds of my life, everything changed. Like a match was struck in the pitch black darkness and suddenly, there was light. 

I went to my room and immediately called C. I told him what happened. I said it was probably nothing, but I couldn’t understand why I felt the way I did. Even if the kiss was nothing but friendly, there was a part of me that wanted it to be more. I was at a loss - both giddy and scared. C was at his parents’ cabin for the week and was very excited about what I was feeling. He asked me to tell him exactly how I felt and exactly what she did. I gave him context. I told him about the bisexual comment. I told him about how she looked me in the eyes whenever we talked like she was shuffling through my soul. I thought this was just what real friendship looked like between two women, but the kiss somehow made it different. Even if she was just drunk and meant it as a friend. Somehow this was a catalyst to the biggest change in my life.

This was just the summer of 2016. After this moment, I looked at A in a different light. I was determined to find out what she meant by the kiss - and I was inspired (yet cautious) to figure out what I wanted her to mean by it.

I became obsessed. 

I started writing her little notes and leaving them at her desk for her to find in the mornings. I started listening to her conversations or “feeling her energy” as she sat in the cubicle next to mine. If ever I got a sense that she was having a hard time or a bad day, I would immediately do everything I could to rectify it. 

We messaged each other constantly. We had two 1-on-1s a week with the intention to talk about work, but it never actually panned out that way. Instead, we’d meet at coffee shops or book conference rooms and talk about life for 2 hours. It was wonderful. 

During meetings, her and I would lock eyes and time would stop. I felt like she would bring me up at any chance she got. Whenever she would talk she’d say, “[T] does that, too” or bring me into the conversation in some way or another. She would touch me a lot, too. She’d rub my arm or put her hand on my shoulder. She’d make plans for both of us as if we were one unit. She would say things like “we should go home and take a nap.” As if we lived together. 

After work, we would always walk together. She would look over the cubicle wall and say “pack yo’ shit.” And we would walk to our cars. Sometimes, she’d forget to hug me ‘goodbye’ because she was in a rush and I’d look sad or say “I need a hug though!” and she’d give me one. Sometimes, she would be having an especially difficult day and she would give me long, tight hugs and rub my back and speak into my ear. 

At home, C would ask me how my investigation was going. He would ask me to tell him what I would do to A if given the chance, but I was shy. I wanted to kiss her, but I didn’t know what else. I felt like a 9 year-old boy who stumbled upon a porn magazine for the first time, exclaiming “wow, I really wish I could hold her hand.” 

It felt good to get so much support from C because he was pushing me. He wanted me to explore my feelings. But, there was a part of me that resisted because I was afraid of where it would lead me. Maybe I was bisexual, but maybe I was beyond that. Whatever it was, I wasn’t straight and that scared me because there was a possibility that my investigation could lead me to a painful conclusion - the truth.

2017

By 2017, it was pretty evident that the tide was turning. I started therapy to talk about my “issue.” She encouraged me, like C, to figure out why I felt the way I did about A. Was it just A or was it all women?

The more I got comfortable with the idea of A, the less I was attracted to C. It got to the point where I really didn’t want to do anything with him. I became disgusted with the idea of it. I never really saw men as attractive, but I always assumed that that’s how all women felt. There’s nothing wrong with them, but they don’t have those beautiful, elegant feminine curves or the delicate step that women do. I felt awful. I saw how much it hurt C to not be wanted anymore. I told him it wasn’t his fault. I told him he was doing nothing wrong - that the issue was inside me. 

It didn’t make anything better. 

I admitted to A that I was questioning my sexuality and she wasn’t surprised. She had (and has) a boyfriend, too. But they’re both bisexual, so she understood where I was coming from. I didn’t tell her she was the reason for it, but I think she knew even then that she was. 

She was a huge support for me, along with my therapist, and, unwittingly, C. 

C and I talked about ways to find out for sure. I was honest with him about everything. The therapist encouraged me to talk to C about what he would be okay with me doing - to find out if I was bi or gay or just confused. We decided that I should go out with a girl that I liked and see how it felt. I texted a friend of mine from high school. She was a girl that I, looking back, also had a crush on. At the time I met her, I just thought she was super cool and I wanted to spend a lot of time with her. 

C admitted that she was really cute, too. He was supportive and was excited for me as I asked her out. She was a bridesmaid at my wedding. Life is weird. 

She knew that I was questioning and she wanted to help me out, too. I told her that C knew and that I talked to him about it and we both agreed that it would be the best way to find out. I told her that I really did have a crush on her, too. I wasn’t just using her for this. She (I’ll call her “L”) is a very kind person, full of nothing but love and light, so she found nothing wrong with this. 

The first time L and I went out was during a big football game. C had his family over. I got dressed up and said goodbye to them. It was the first time I would miss a football game with them - because I had a date with a girl. His family was confused about why I was leaving and C told them I was supposed to hang out with a friend.

L and I went to a restaurant and laughed about how awkward we both were. It was exhilarating, but also nerve-wracking. I was married. I knew it wasn’t cheating if C knew what I was doing (and encouraged me to do so), but it still felt weird. I pushed through, though. 

L and I went back to my house, so she could get her car. We hugged and said our goodbyes, the way we had done so many times as friends, but this time, she shyly put her hands on my face and kissed my forehead. When she stepped back, I grabbed her, pulled her in, and kissed her on the lips. 

This was the first time I ever kissed a girl. She blushed immediately and laughed and said my name, giggling, calling me cute. I felt like the spark that had started in me was now an inferno. 

I felt truth. 

Her and I said goodbye and she went back to her car.

I walked inside and C’s family was still there. I felt myself beaming from the inside out. I couldn’t wipe the smile from my face. A part of me, looking back, was glad that L didn’t wear lipstick because it would’ve given me away.

When I saw C’s face, though, my heart dropped. 

When his family left, I told him exactly what happened. He nodded, understanding. He asked what I thought and how I felt. 

I told him the truth - or what I felt was my truth. I told him that I’m a lesbian. 

As I said the word, I felt like I had shot us both in the heart. I knew that I had only kissed L, but there was something in me that already knew before that kiss that I was who I am. 

He put his head in his hands and we both began to cry because we knew that it was the end. 

I moved out the next weekend to live with my mom. I spent two days with her, then moved in with my dad. 

I spent a couple weeks with him, then moved to a new apartment down the street from him. I picked the place mostly because it had a lot of windows and a covered porch that looked out into the woods and a tiny little stream. 

At this point, I was dead broke. I was broke from the pneumonia and the medical bills associated. I was broke from the wedding... and the up front costs of the apartment pushed me over the edge and into debt. 

I didn’t ask for anything in the divorce. I didn’t request alimony and I barely took what was mine. I wanted to travel light and I already felt bad enough about the circumstances that I didn’t want to put any additional, undue hurt on C. I never meant to hurt him and, in the end, he was supportive of me and my decision, but we both still left with heartache. 

When I came out to my therapist, she welcomed me with open arms and admitted that she was also a lesbian. She gave me a list of movies and TV shows to watch as if they were a welcome packet as I stepped into a foreign land. 

When I came out to my friends and family, they were a bit surprised (moreso than I thought they would be considering I was always a tomboy, didn’t like to wear dresses and named everything I owned “Tegan” from T&S), but very supportive. 

I know not everyone has this same experience, so I am grateful. I did, however, lose some friends. 

I lost one friend who thought she would be okay with it, but since she was another one of my bridesmaids, she had a hard time grappling with the fact that she had just stood next to me in my wedding to a man and was now asked to be okay with me wanting to date women less than a year later. I understood where she was coming from, but it still hurt.

The other friend I lost was L. I thought we were amazing together. She was adorable and kind and artistic. There was an innocence and a lightness to her that I’ve never seen in another human being. We went to two psychics together and both told us that we were soulmates. 

I told this to A and she said, “yeah but a soulmate could just be a friend. It doesn’t have to be a romantic thing”, which I thought was odd. 

The same day, (which happened to be International Women’s Day), I was helping A with something physical at work. We were taping something to a wall and when I needed the tape, she put it between her legs and said to me, “come on, it’s international women’s day, fool around with me.” 

Never before had she been so forward with me. There was one time she was having a particularly bad day at work, so I left her a little present at her desk and she thanked me by coming around to my desk and slowly, seductively (I thought, at least) blew me a kiss. But, that was it. 

Now she was forward with me. Now, when I had already moved on (A had and has a boyfriend and I didn’t want to interfere, so I forced myself to look elsewhere)... she decided to make it obvious. I brushed it off with a joke and said “if you want me to get fired, you can just fire me ‘cuz you’re my boss. You don’t have to make it a sexual assault thing.” 

I fell in love with L - and that was my downfall. 

I told her in a text message because I was drunk - and she didn’t say it back. I knew that was trouble, and it was. When I asked her if she wanted us to be official (I told her and we weren’t even OFFICIAL!??), she said she’d have to think about it. She told me she felt weird about it. She wasn’t ready. 

I was in a weird spot now. Alone in my apartment that I could barely afford, trying to make ends meet. I had lost an entire second family in the divorce. But, thank god I still had my own and I still had A.

L and I never slept together and I knew that was going to be an important milestone for me. A part of me was worried that I wouldn’t like sex with a woman and that I’d thrown away my marriage on a hunch without any real proof. What if I had thrown away an entire lifetime of what could’ve been - for a brief glimpse of who I thought I was?

I got on tinder and met a really sweet girl, I’ll call H. H was super cute and fiery. She was open and honest with me and went out of her way for me. I wish, looking back, that I could have appreciated her more. But, I met her in a weird spot in my life where I just didn’t care much about anything at all. Nothing really seemed to matter when I met H and I still regret that I couldn’t have met her at a better time, but everything happens for a reason.

I only went out with H a couple times, but each time, we slept together. She brought her fiery-self into the bedroom. There was an intensity to her that was breath-taking. The first time she stayed over, she asked me a few times if I was sure because she knew about my past, and I said “yes.” 

My first time with a woman was so drastically different from my first time with a man. The man didn’t ask because he didn’t even know he was my first. He just did and when it was over, I remember thinking “that’s it?” And when it was happening, I remembered thinking “it’s happening.” But, that’s all.

With H, she asked me first. She had already shared something with me that made her cry and I held her and said it was okay. We already shared something emotional together before we did anything and she asked me and she knew my backstory and I knew hers before anything happened. 

While it was happening was also drastically different. I felt the way I imagine reborn Christians must feel when they think they’ve found Jesus. I felt like a house with all the lights on for the first time. I felt like I had taken my first breath of fresh air in 26 years, like all the planets had aligned into a path that led me home. Even now, over a year later, I wish I could write poetry well enough to describe that moment when we both came at the same time. 

I had never felt that before and seeing her body was orgasmic in itself. I was finally letting myself see a body that I found beautiful without pretense. It was as if I had taken the gloves off and allowed myself to truly feel the silk smoothness of a satin gown - something I could have only previously imagined, but always refrained myself from trying. 

So yes, I thought, I am definitely a lesbian. I suddenly couldn’t imagine it any other way.

I was honest with H, like she was with me. I told her about my past and that I was on tinder still and that I was talking to a few people. I didn’t sleep with anyone else, but I wanted to be honest and let her know that I wasn’t ready for a relationship. She was a little hurt, but understood. 

One of these other people was someone I’ll call, “G.” G was dark and mysterious. She was artistic and strange. I wanted to solve her puzzle, uncover her darkness, and de-mystify the secrets of her universe. While talking to H, I was continuously drawn toward G like a planet toward the sun. 

The 2nd time I hung out with H said my goodbye to her in the morning, G texted me and asked if I could pick her up. Her mother had taken her to the city and she didn’t want to go home. I went to meet her. I heard her voice for the first time as we frantically tried to find each other at Piedmont Park. She was frustrated, but her southern drawl melted me. 

We met up at a little restaurant and got drinks. She told me stories about her childhood. She told me how she got her head stuck in the bleachers in middle school. She told me how she didn’t like her father. She told me stories about her “ma” - all through anxious impulse because I wasn’t talking. I just wanted to listen to what would come out next. 

After dinner, we decided to go back to my place so she could stay the night and I’d take her home the next morning. She sheepishly asked if I could take her to Wal-Mart first for some shorts she could sleep in and we milled around the men’s section for awhile before she settled on a pair and then went to my apartment. 

With G, I was awkward. I wasn’t sure if she liked me or not. With H, it was obvious because she would touch me, put her arms around me, ask if I want to cuddle, and then breathe heavy in my ear as she held me as if trying hard to restrain herself. With G, we sat on separate couches. I was not confident enough to make the first move and G didn’t try anything. We ended up watching Broad City until the sun was about to rise and then decided to go to bed.

I was awkward with this, too because I didn’t know if she wanted to sleep in the bed with me or not. She bought clothes at the store, so she was obviously not planning on sleeping naked. But, she still got in the bed with me. We started making out, but she stopped me and called me “dangerous” and a bad influence. And we fell asleep, doing nothing but lying beside one another.

The next day, I took her home and she looked at me the whole way back, the way no one has ever looked at me before. There was an adoration in her eyes I had never seen, like she was beaming, radiating love. 

I told H and she didn’t take it very well. I can understand that, though. 

G and I started seeing each other more and more, but we never slept together. I respected her though and let her take her time. 

About a month into us dating, I asked if she wanted to be official and she said “yes”, but not like that. She said “Yeah, I’ll be your bitch.” Which as an awkward person, was weird for someone to tell me, but G has her own way of doing things.

G bought me tickets to go skydiving for my birthday and I wanted to tell her I loved her, but I didn’t.

Thank god, we survived so I could tell her later.

At work, I had pretty much totally gotten over A. But, there were bigger issues at hand. A and I’s jobs depended on a social media site that the company we worked for suddenly deemed unimportant. There was blood in the water. The writing was on the wall: we were going to lose our jobs. 

I was already broke and I already lived in a spot which didn’t have too many job opportunities in my field. And I was already in debt.

That summer, we went to California for two weeks - the last big thing A and I did as part of our jobs. 

While there, I wrote G a letter every day and mailed it to her. Sometimes I sprayed the paper with perfume and sometimes I pressed jasmine flowers between the paper folds for her.

While there, I also confessed to A that I “used to” like her. She didn’t say it back. She said “I kinda always knew, but it feels good to hear you validate it.” 

I didn’t and still don’t know how to take that except that maybe she was just trying to see what her advances would do. Maybe she was just being friendly after all and when I took it too far, she only continued for the attention. Maybe she liked me back, but she wasn’t ready to admit it.

I don’t know how to take it because we were drunk and I was telling her about past lives. I told her that I thought in one life, I was her stable boy (lol) and she was a Queen. She wasn’t supposed to be with me, but her and I liked each other because I was kind to her and she liked how I treated her horses (I was drunk, ok?). She asked me if she thought that maybe in another life, we were supposed to be together and I said “yes.” 

While I was in California, my brother, who was caring for my apartment at home told me that it had flooded. Apparently, the upstairs unit had flooded and the water came in through the ceiling and caused a great deal of damage to their unit and mine.

When I came back, my home reeked of mold. The carpet in the bedroom was stiff and the air was thick and hard to breathe. I battled with the landlord almost every day, trying to clean up the mold and make the space feel inhabitable. 

About a month after A and I came back from California, I was offered a job there at an exciting company that I was always a fan of. 

I told G about it. A was conflicted because G and I had only been dating a couple months and moving together across the country was a huge step.

But, I’m stereotypical so we loaded up the U-HAUL (or whatever company we decided to go with) and then G and I jumped into my little sedan with my dog and her cat and whatever little knick-knacks we could fit, and drove across the country together - broke, in love, and hopeful. 

When I left my old apartment, I knew I would be breaking the lease, so I used the mold as leverage. Unfortunately, they didn’t buy it. Instead, they charged me more - $1295 as opposed to the regular $1095 I used to pay per month because the industrial fan they put in the bedroom to dry out the carpet ran up my electricity bill. I refused to pay it on the grounds that it was unfair and unlawful (and because my dad, A, and G all told me not to) - and took off. 

When we got to California after 3 days of driving, G and I had no idea what to expect. We had blindly picked an apartment in our price range without any notion of what the area would be like or what the commute would entail - so we chose a place in San Bernardino, almost 70 miles from my new job in Hollywood. Apparently there was a reason this apartment was reasonably priced. 

Stepping into the apartment for the first time was depressing - and eye-opening to how different California would be from Georgia. It was well-worn, the cabinets were loosely placed, the carpet was off-colored, the lighting was dim, and there was no fridge. This was far from the apartment I’d left in Duluth with the wood laminate floors, the giant windows, the wooded view, the upgraded appliances - but this was California. 

But, we made the most of it.

G spent most of her time looking for a job and I spent most of mine either driving to work, from work, or at work. It took me roughly 2 1/2-3 hours one way to get to my job. When G was able to find a job, she didn’t have a car, so I would drive her every morning and drop her off on the way to mine. I was waking up at 4:30am, taking her to her job, getting to mine at 8am, working till around 7pm and coming home at 10pm, going straight to bed and going through these same motions every single week day.

I was miserable. 

Then, three months into my job, my entire department was called in to a meeting. Without warning, we were instructed by a teary-eyed HR rep that that day would be our last with the company. Our entire 100+ person team was being laid off. 

At this point, the amount that I owed the old apartment was put into collections because the lawyer I had hired via the company I worked with was not answering his emails. I paid him $250 for his services - he had agreed with me that it was unlawful for the apartment to ask for the amount they were requesting because they not only violated their contract, but also health codes - but it took him over a month to write the letter, and because of that, I now had a negative mark on my credit report. 

And I didn’t have a job.

And I was on the other side of the country from everyone I knew.

And I was still broke. 

I spent every day applying for jobs in my field. I would drive G to work and then set up at a coffee shop and just apply for jobs and write cover letters until it was time to pick her up.

I was driving myself insane and I was becoming resentful, trapped in a constant loop of trying to do something for someone else. I couldn’t afford to do anything and was afraid to spend too much time on me for fear that I wouldn’t pick G up in time, that I might make her wait too long. I was afraid to spend a day not applying for jobs because I felt useless otherwise, that I was wasting my time or not trying hard enough. 

After months of applying and only a handful of interviews, I finally landed a job. It paid less than my previous one, but it was something and I was grateful to be getting regular paychecks.

But, this new job was insane. I was working 11-12 hours a day, plus still taking G to work in the mornings. I was driving 2-3 hours one way or up to 6 hours every day to/from San Bernardino. I felt my sanity slip. 

G and I no longer connected the way we used to. I was resentful, quiet. I just wanted to sleep and be left alone. She began to lash out with sarcasm and biting words that stung me and I shrugged off like bees (even though I held onto the little stingers as fodder for future arguments). 

I began to regret bringing her with me. Even though she paid half the rent, I began to fantasize what life would be like, living as a roommate with a total stranger closer to work. 

I talked to A and another friend back east about our problems. At one point, G had mentioned hanging out with some other girls and then made excuses about why we couldn’t all hang out together, when I suggested it. At another point, our relationship status was no longer visible on her Facebook profile and I lost it. It sounds so petty looking back, but we were on such thin ice that something as small as a twig could’ve broken it.

2018

The straw that broke the camel’s back was my dog. My dog has been with me through everything. I adopted her when I was with C, as a puppy. I raised her. Never before had I had a dog so loving as her, so emotional as Lolo. I treat Lolo like I would a child and I would give my life for hers. 

One day, not long after Valentine’s Day, G had left a box of chocolates on the floor. Lolo had found it. It was a weekend, so thankfully, I wasn’t working - but it was one of those rare days when G had to do so on a Saturday.

I remember stepping out of the shower and seeing Lolo (happily) lapping up the last little bit of chocolate in the box. 

I immediately texted G and asked how many chocolates were in it - did she remember how many she ate? I told her Lolo ate them and I needed to know roughly how much and if it was dark or milk chocolate so I could tell the vet.

G was defensive. She didn’t know, she said. She was also not worried about it, but I was. If you don’t know, chocolate is toxic to dogs - dark chocolate, in particular. And Lolo is a medium-sized dog, so it wouldn’t take too many chocolates to paralyze or even kill her. 

I called the vet and rushed her to an emergency vet as quickly as I could. I remember the bill was roughly $600. They had to pump her stomach and kept her in observation overnight. The woman at the counter asked me how she ate so much chocolate and I told her that my “roommate” had accidentally left a Valentine’s gift on the floor. The woman asked if my “roommate” was going to help me pay and I, teary-eyed and broke, said “no.”

G didn’t help me pay for the vet bill. She apologized, though, and when she came home, she had picked me up a bouquet of flowers and a stuffed animal bunny.

I had enough, though. I told her it was over. 

But, we had gone through this before. I had tried breaking up with G in the past. I had gotten pretty far, I thought, but G always roped me back in.

This time, I was resolute. G told me that I didn’t really want to break up. She told me that I was just stressed and I needed “help.” A part of me believed her, but the rest of me knew that it was gas lighting (and my therapist, A, and another friend said the same). G told me I needed drugs. That I only wanted to break up because of all the stress I was going through, that I didn’t get enough sleep.

But, I was done.

G and I broke up for a week. 

I reached out to everyone I knew for advice, but I didn’t know anyone. I had Lolo with me and no one could take in a dog. I wasn’t going to get rid of my child - as dramatic as that sounds. Lolo was the only thing I felt I had left - and thank god, I still had her.

I finally found a potential roommate on Facebook - another girl who was also looking for an apartment, ASAP, in the same areas that I was looking in, with the same price range. It seemed perfect. The girl was very nice and seemed easy to get along with, so I was hopeful. 

Every night, though, I had to come back to the apartment in San Bernardino, to the same girl I had fallen in love with and had moved across the country with. The girl I had asked to uproot her life to be with me. She would sit, balled up on the floor, and cry when she found something small and seemingly insignificant - a sock I gave her for Christmas, a little post-it I had put in her bag on her first day of work. It tore me to pieces to see her like that and I thought about how I had to see C like that just over a year prior. I felt like a monster going through peoples’ lives, tearing them apart. 

G wanted me to continue sleeping in the bed with her, so I did, thinking that maybe it would help her somehow, like a small token of kindness. 

G resolved to change, though. She decided I shouldn’t be driving her to work every day (which I was too stubborn to admit until everything fell apart). She bought a car the same day that we had split, but she didn’t just buy a car, she bought a Camaro. Which, told me that she had at least enough to buy a Honda Civic before any of this even happened. You know, something to just get her from A to B. I was enraged. Especially, because she asked me to drive her 2 hours to go get it from Hemet. To me, this just solidified my decision to leave.

But, as the week grew on, I became less resolute. Seeing her break down. Hearing her talk to her mother on the phone about how hard it would be. I decided she should take the San Bernardino apartment. It was closer to her work than it was to mine anyway and I didn’t want to put her in a bind. We met with the landlord and had them replace her name with mine on the lease.

Meanwhile, I met with my potential roommate a few times to tour various apartments in North Hollywood. We settled on a place and put in our applications. That same night, the money I owed the previous apartment finally showed up on my credit score (previously it didn’t affect anything except that debtors were calling me every day). 

Needless to say, we didn’t get the apartment. I felt like shit. I warned the girl about what might happen, but since it wasn’t on my report, I was hopeful. I didn’t want to ruin her chances of getting a place, so I pulled out of the deal - hoping she could find someone else and have a better chance getting the next apartment she applied for.  

But now, I had no options and the landlord at the San Bernardino apartment had told G that I needed to leave because I was legally not allowed to stay in the apartment anymore since I was no longer on the lease. 

So, here I was - facing homelessness in an unfamiliar city on the other side of the country. 

This was, by far, the hardest week of my life. Honestly, harder than the divorce I had just gone through.

Then, I broke. 

A week after we split, I woke up next to G, who decided to test the waters and put her arm around me in the Saturday morning sunlight. I let her. My eyes welled up with tears and I put my hand on top of hers and held on tight. I scooted in closer to her after a week of sleeping on the opposite end of the bed, cold, and un-moving. It felt like heaven feeling her body once again, feeling her arms on me one more time. I felt like I had been sleeping on the cold hard ground, like I had truly been homeless - and had finally been offered solace and a soft, warm bed. 

When G and I got back together, it hurt my friendship with A. I had confided in A about my relationship with G, just like I had confided in her about everything else. She didn’t believe that I had made the right choice, knowing what she did about G (from what I told her, at least). I felt like I let the whole world down. I was both relieved to see G’s smile again and be in someone’s arms and have some semblance of solid ground - and terrified with the idea of losing my friendship with A.. and equally terrified that I had potentially only gotten back together with G because the alternative seemed too difficult or scary. 

For awhile, I was skeptical. I was skeptical about G’s newfound warmth and openness. I was skeptical about our future and about my own reasoning for staying in the relationship. But, it seemed like G had transformed overnight. She was driving herself to work every day and was much kinder in her words.

When G and I first started talking, I told her she reminded me of a burned down forest in the snow. I saw tall, sharp, black skeletons of pines jutting up from the white snow. I heard nothing but the lonely call of a raven somewhere in the distance, piercing the quiet and echoing through what once was - or could have been - a lush and lively forest. But, I told her I also saw the little buds of leaves beginning to unfurl upon branches too resolute or perhaps too stubborn to stay barren. I saw tiny tendrils of flowers and the bright green spikes of springtime grass in little clumps piercing through the ice. I think when most people saw her, they saw the harsh coldness and the spiky, almost dangerous hint of death and destruction. But, I was looking for those little signs of life and love and I wanted to help them grow.

Over the course of our relationship, G proved that initial metaphor to be true. She had experienced a lot in her 26 year relationship - from the deaths of past lovers to trauma and neglect to drug use and even an attempted murder that left her in the hospital and caused her to drop out of college. The world forced G to be cold, to build a shell around herself - but I saw the little flecks in her armor where the light shined through and I only wanted to help nurture those vulnerabilities. 

When we got back together, she had taken off quite a bit of her shell. She was more affectionate, but also more determined. We decided that we needed to live closer to Los Angeles (where I worked) and she spent a good deal of time looking for apartments. When we finally settled on a town, we went on several tours together on the weekends, but since she got off work earlier in the day that I do during the week, she took the initiative to go any time and anywhere she could in the hopes that it would find us something sooner.

She found an adorable little place and we both fell in love with the town, the apartment, and with each other all over again. 

Not everything is perfect now, but we are making it work. 

TL;DR -

If you are going through a lot right now, just know that it WILL get better. The thing is, is that you can't just wait for it to get better. You have to make it so. 

I have 2 other friends who went through divorce - with drastically different experiences. One met the love of her life while married to the “wrong” man and ended up getting pregnant just months after leaving her ex. She runs a school now (her dream) and has a beautiful little family and an adorable apartment that she shares with a man who shares the same dreams and passions that she does.

The other was married to the wrong woman and was married too young. After her divorce, she began to pursue her passions - she now works for the city and cares for the trees, does graphic design, is working on her music, going back to school to finish her degree, and is having a great time doing the things she enjoys most of all. 

Obviously, I’m not saying that divorce is the solution to all life’s problems. I’m just saying that sometimes life sucks and sometimes it sucks for a long-ass time. I’m still broke. Every time I think I’m able to save money, California says I owe them $800 or my car decides it needs $600 or my dog reminds me that vet bills are never less than a couple hundred... but it’s all just a process.