April 26, 1975

One glorious Houston spring morning in the year of 1975, after an escape attempt by the bride, a couple walked down the aisle and said their “I do“‘s.  

It was the second marriage for the bride (hence the amazing jitters, because when you’ve come to expect being abused mentally and physically by your first husband, marriage can frighten you) and the first for the groom.  

A year and a half later, a bundle of joy arrived two weeks early, but determined to be a Leo against her Scorpio father’s wishes, though he would save her immeasurably when her mother wanted to name her “Dona” (think Mona, but with a “D”).  Thus, beginning a lifelong controversy of who actually named her “Bethany”.  

Coincidentally, the couple celebrates their anniversary on their daughter’s favourite aunt’s birthday.  

“I trust you… that’s bigger (to me), than I love you. It’s a bigger deal.”

I’d like to say I’m not the trusting sort.  That I put up walls and block people out, unless and until they pass some sort of test.  I’d like to say that, but it’s not true. 

I’ve always led with my heart, and not my mind.  It’s the single biggest trait of my personality and it’s what gets me into trouble more often than not.  Want a person that speaks their mind?  Find someone who leads with the heart, because if they led with their mind, their rational, logical mind, none of the words from the heart would ever dare escape.  

I’m a trust first, ask questions later kind of girl, of everyone… and, I do my best to understand people as a fluid process, because people are fluid.  This gets me into trouble, especially with people that won’t change, can’t change, but I always want that fluidity to flow in a better direction and have hope that it will.  It’s broken my heart a number of times… My aunt, being the biggest, though, she also had the satisfaction of sending my grandmother into her final downward Alzheimer’s spiral at the same time.  That’s one of three people I no longer see as fluid.  My ex-husband holds the number two spot (pun kind of intended), my mom, now, the number three.   As much as she does her best to manipulate my world (as well as many others), my sister should hold the number four spot, but her husband keeps her still in fluid transition in my book.   Still hopeful.  

Quite often, I trust many people that I shouldn’t.  Maybe not a hundred percent, but I trust them.  Rarely have they let me down, completely.  Fluidity, I think is key.  The fluid thought, the ever pressing forward of, “next time…” It’s difficult to lose my trust completely, because I give it freely.  Naive or not, I still believe in the human race.  Still believe we’re all good at heart, mostly.  Evil exists and it hides and lurks in the best of people, but I’ve learned that bad and evil never come in the wrapping and box that you believe they should.  Usually, they’re deceptive, and so, in spite of that deception, I trust all, because even that deception, that small tiny bit that hurts, isn’t enough for me to turn off my heart and build walls, even though, sometimes, I really wish I could.

I am not the type of girl that loves cautiously, giving only a little piece of me, here and there.  When I love, it’s full force, and that’s scary to some people.  In all honesty, I’ve learned that it scares me more than anyone else.  My trust comes far too easily, and my heart gives openly.  My brain, my rational and logical mind, however, screams at my heart, “WTF?  You’re going to get us hurt… it’s going to hurt worse than we’ve ever been hurt before.  I know how you’re feeling, but for God’s sake, put up the walls, because I’m tired.  I’m tired of being open and battered and bruised.  Put up the damn walls and show that we have common sense.  Put up the damn walls before its too late, before we fall completely… before you’re lost for good, never to be replaced!  Put up the damn walls before you’re cracked and no use to anyone!  Just stop being an idiot and put up the damn walls!”

…and my heart always replies, “I just can’t. It’s already too late.”

I trust more than I should… more than I want to, sometimes.  I don’t conceive of people being bad, so when they are, (like my cousins this past summer) it shocks me and I react far more harshly than I should, because, I can’t build those walls.

And when I trust, without warning, without hesitation… when that trust is built on a deep love and I know it and feel it without thinking, when I can say, “I trust you more than anyone else on this Earth,” and mean it, without flinching, my logical, rational brain just knows heartache is around the corner and so it fights harder, yells louder… screams and screams and screams.  It begs for walls, for caution, for reins against reckless abandon.   It looks at the past, and at all the people I’ve let in, trusted, been let down by, and trusted again… and known how much it hurt when they betrayed me and I trusted again… only to be hurt again.  My mind sees the pain and practices self preservation… 

But my heart always wins…. it always trusts… even when the brain thinks the heart is being a stupid idiot, and sometimes, especially then.  The brain tries to put up walls, but they are not forged in the steel of determination and caring that is the trademark of my heart.  My heart always wins… even if my rational and logical brain puts up walls for the heartache that it is sure lurks around the corner.  

John Hughes Owes Me

When I was younger, everything about love and relationships was supposed to make sense:  I was supposed to be in love with a boy and that boy was supposed to totally be crushing on me and there may be moments where we made utter and completely ridiculous fools of ourselves, but you know, within the span of a small time frame, we would get together… maybe some problems would ensue, but for the most part, he and I would live happily ever after… 

At least, that’s what John Hughes’s films taught me.  He gave me some awesome life lessons, didn’t he: that love was so easy and attainable.  He gave me every example I could ever hope for, to live up to this perfect dream - except “Say Anything” - that was all Cameron Crowe… but John Hughes.. he didn’t just record teen drama and love, he manufactured it, right? 

It’s taken me this long to realize that it’s never that easy… not for anyone, except the rare person like my sister, who recently made a startling confession to me, so - I guess, it’s not easy even for those that we think it is.   You may be in love with that boy, but he’s in love with someone else, and she’s in love with another boy.. or, if we’re doing it right, probably another girl, who is the head cheerleader and won’t sully her reputation by letting everyone find out she’s *whisper* gay.  At least, that’s still how it goes, though, lately it seems like that cheerleader is more and more willing to do what’s in her heart and we’re more accepting of it, as a society, overall.  (That’s not to diminish the need for GLBT rights activism… it’s just to say, in the 80s, John Hughes would never have created that character, let alone been able to make that movie, right?  Now, it’s at least a possibility as an independent release, depending on the actors, maybe even a major studio?) 

Still, I feel like John Hughes owes me a little bit of an explanation, though, he’s dead now, and I suppose a conversation with his ghost would have to do.  I still love all of the wonderful stories he brought into my life, but now, I’m wondering… who does it ever work out for.. that isn’t battered and bruised before it works out?  And, why is there no truthful story telling in how not to act like a complete and totally socially inept person who should know all of the right things to say and all of the right ways to act?  

John Hughes taught us, more than anything else, that emotions were honest - they were out in the open.  The geek that was in love with you in high school - told you so, every day.  Your secret crush on the hottest boy around?  Not so secret.  It was easy to read people and things - everyone knew what was going on.  If John Hughes ever did a disservice to me, it’s that I expected that from the world, as I grew up: honesty in emotions.  What I actually walked into was this world where no one “says anything” (ha - pun probably intended), until they have to, and not even then. 

I grew up and became a girl that says it… even when it’s hard to do.  Some people tell me this is an asset - a strength.  Others - hate it, and to be honest, they probably hated me or, at least disliked me from the start.  I give an opinion, people know how I feel and rarely do I let someone or a situation go without making every attempt to resolve it.  That’s how I was “taught” - at least by the visual cues I was given in formative years by a master story teller.  

Now, I’m honestly afraid that I was wrong all along - that I shouldn’t say everything.  The thing is, I can’t let good friendships, relationships, go - without trying to rectify them.  If I don’t, it keeps me up at night, my stomach in gnawing knots.  I know they make Pepto Bismal for that, but at some point, you just have to face it and get it over with, right?  ”I was wrong” - “I hurt you” - “I’m sorry”.  These are words that are not easy to say, even if you do always make the effort to say them when they are warranted.  ”I love you”, it turns out, is just as hard, if not harder, and don’t even get me started on, “I like you… and maybe, if you feel the same way, we could look into that…”  

No… in John Hughes’s world, by now, I’d be lying on my bed, starting at the phone or the wall… Eyes teary, wondering what happened to my underpants, or talking to my dog about how painful it is to fall in love.  Turns out, I guess he got one thing right, after all… 

Belonging…

Most people think they’re looking for love - searching for something that can’t be obtained.  

The truth is, love is relatively easy to obtain and most people have it in abundance. 

We’re not searching for love.  We’re searching for where we belong - the right place, our path.  We all know what it’s like to be in a forest - light filtered out by branches and leaves.  Even stars are impossible to see.  We put one foot in front of the other, blindly, hoping that our intuition or our maps or our guides are getting us to that place our hearts are searching for. 

In this mission, the brain, the senses, and logic are blind, deaf, and dumb.  Educated guesses empty with very little thought.  It’s the gut instincts, the irrational, the emotional that gets us to where we’re going.  It’s all of what we stop trusting when we stop trusting ourselves that guides us.  No wonder people stay lost for years.  

We’re not looking for love… or rather, not JUST love.  We’re looking for where we belong.  And when we’ve found it, it is impossible to give up.  When we find it, we are truly… home.  

…and nothing else matters.