My Roller Coaster Life (part two)
After a short stay at my dad's in Kansas, I moved to Tulsa again, this time on my own. I slept on my mom's couch until I had a job and an apartment close to where I worked. I only lived in Tulsa for four years, but those four years were so full of memories that I could literally write a book on that subject alone. But this is supposed to be a short autobiography, so I will try to keep it that way.
I always look back at my times in Tulsa as my good old days. I made friends, went out often, and heard loads of music. I had more than my fair share of boyfriends. I kept my head above water financially, and just generally had a good time.
Then I met Spike. He was the second love of my life. He was young, only seventeen when we got together. I was twenty-five. I always looked young for my age and Spike looked older, so our age difference wasn't noticeable to most people. He was tall at 6'-'7". When I met him, he was a skinny, gawky kid with bad skin and bad hair. By the time I left him, three years later, he had filled out, grown his hair out a little, and really transformed into a cute guy. He had wonderful blue eyes. When he came to work at Louie Ds, where I worked, we were practically enemies. I thought he was immature and a pain in the ass. Then one day, out of the blue, I watched him hand a plate to a customer with those beautiful long hands of his, and I fell in love. I thought it must be a joke. I couldn't possibly take those feelings seriously, but, the longer I was around him, the more I fell in love. The night we finally got together, I couldn't stop giggling at the absurdity of the whole situation. I was, however, stone cold in love for the next three years and for years afterwards. However, there was a problem that was big enough to make me leave. Spike was extremely jealous. Lord help me if I went without a bra, or was fifteen minute late coming home from work. It never got better, only got worse, until I couldn't take it anymore. I wasn't happy with my job either. Things had just slowly fallen apart and once again, I called my dad, and he came and got me.
This time I spent two years in the small town of Pittsburg, Kansas. I worked part-time in my dad's flea market and saved money to move back to Arizona. I had a small circle of friends and went out a couple of times a week. Nothing really extraordinary happened, and when I turned thirty, I moved back home to Arizona.
I loved my little home in Arizona where I lived for the next three years. It was a park model travel trailer, just the right size for me, and I had it parked by the river in a really peaceful park. It was a relatively uneventful time except for the crazy boyfriend I had for a year. I kicked him out on a weekly basis, but he'd wait until I fell asleep, then crawl back in through the window. He'd be next to me in the morning and we would make up for the next week. It was a crazy year. I could write a whole story about that year alone.
After three years of happily living on my own, but sick of being broke, I decided to move back to Kansas again. I worked at my dad's flea market full-time and didn't go out at all. My best friends were a married couple who were in their mid eighties. She was my mentor, and he was a sweet man who always knew the right thing to say. I loved them dearly.
After working there for five years, I was extremely burned out. Both the customers and the dealers in the flea market were driving me crazy, so I saved enough money to live on for a year, and I quit.
The next year was very interesting. I fell in love with Ewan McGregor after watching Moulin Rouge, and I discovered the internet. I printed out enough Ewan pictures to wallpaper my whole bathroom. Then I found a chat room called PalTalk and I practically lived there. I met a woman from Denmark with whom I'm still friends to this day. I met tons of guys and was really juggling the boyfriends. Then I met a man from London, and everything changed.
He was different. He was soft spoken and sweet, and I fell in cyber-love. After talking online and by telephone for several months, he bought me a plane ticket to London, and off I went. He had a ten year-old daughter and I stayed with the two of them for three months. We went everywhere. He took me to every tourist attraction in London, we went to the seaside several times, and I got to see a lot of the countryside. I adored London. What I liked best was simply going for walks, taking it all in. One night, I went alone to a pub nearby and met a bunch of people, and I had a blast. I fell in love with fish and chips too. After having the real thing, nothing else will ever do again.
Unfortunately, there were bad times as well. I have memories of arguments and battles of wills. I was supposed to stay six months, but left after three. Looking back, I remember the good times most, and I'll cherish those always.
Not long after I returned home from London, my dad brought the mail in one day and handed me a letter. It was from my first love, Jimmy. I was in shock, and I didn't even open the letter for hours until I regained my composure. He said he was out of prison, where he'd been for the last thirteen years, that he finally had his life together, and wondered if I was interested in calling him. I called the next night. We were both very nervous, and it was a little awkward at first. So I said something funny and he laughed. It was the same laugh that I remembered from twenty-three years before, and I just knew our chemistry was still there. We spoke on the phone every day for a month before I flew to Arizona to see him. We got married a month later.
I've written a whole, long story about Jimmy and myself, and if I write it again here, this will become a long story instead of a short one. So I will just sum it up the best I can.
Our marriage was a roller coaster. Jimmy would leave, and I would have episodes of depression, often accompanied by drunken rages. We couldn't live with or without each other. I can't count the times my heart was broken, and I'm sure it was the same thing for Jimmy. But I also can't count the beautiful, heartfelt, intimate memories Jimmy and I made together. Then, right before Thanksgiving, seven years ago, Jimmy left me for the last time, and went back to Arizona. This time, he didn't come back. He wanted to, but he got sick. He went to the hospital and found out that he had MRSA. I tried to go to him, but the only bus ticket I could afford was a twelve day in advance ticket, but Jimmy only lived eight days. Part of me died with him, and I doubt that I'll ever be completely over him.
I've been here in Kansas ever since. We moved to Topeka three years ago, which was a big step up from Pittsburg. I call this my bored period. I've pretty much been bored ever since Jimmy died. Also, around that time, I was diagnosed with bipolar and clinical depression, and started taking medication. I also have a couple of physical limitations, so I applied for disability and, while I've been denied twice, I have a good lawyer this time, and I'm pretty confident that I will win my case this time. When I do, I'll be moving to Portland, Oregon, and starting a simple little life on my own with my cats.
So, that's the story of the first half of my life. I'm really psyched about the next chapter. I shall be letting you know in time...
After a short stay at my dad's in Kansas, I moved to Tulsa again, this time on my own. I slept on my mom's couch until I had a job and an apartment close to where I worked. I only lived in Tulsa for four years, but those four years were so full of memories that I could literally write a book on that subject alone. But this is supposed to be a short autobiography, so I will try to keep it that way.
I always look back at my times in Tulsa as my good old days. I made friends, went out often, and heard loads of music. I had more than my fair share of boyfriends. I kept my head above water financially, and just generally had a good time.
Then I met Spike. He was the second love of my life. He was young, only seventeen when we got together. I was twenty-five. I always looked young for my age and Spike looked older, so our age difference wasn't noticeable to most people. He was tall at 6'-'7". When I met him, he was a skinny, gawky kid with bad skin and bad hair. By the time I left him, three years later, he had filled out, grown his hair out a little, and really transformed into a cute guy. He had wonderful blue eyes. When he came to work at Louie Ds, where I worked, we were practically enemies. I thought he was immature and a pain in the ass. Then one day, out of the blue, I watched him hand a plate to a customer with those beautiful long hands of his, and I fell in love. I thought it must be a joke. I couldn't possibly take those feelings seriously, but, the longer I was around him, the more I fell in love. The night we finally got together, I couldn't stop giggling at the absurdity of the whole situation. I was, however, stone cold in love for the next three years and for years afterwards. However, there was a problem that was big enough to make me leave. Spike was extremely jealous. Lord help me if I went without a bra, or was fifteen minute late coming home from work. It never got better, only got worse, until I couldn't take it anymore. I wasn't happy with my job either. Things had just slowly fallen apart and once again, I called my dad, and he came and got me.
This time I spent two years in the small town of Pittsburg, Kansas. I worked part-time in my dad's flea market and saved money to move back to Arizona. I had a small circle of friends and went out a couple of times a week. Nothing really extraordinary happened, and when I turned thirty, I moved back home to Arizona.
I loved my little home in Arizona where I lived for the next three years. It was a park model travel trailer, just the right size for me, and I had it parked by the river in a really peaceful park. It was a relatively uneventful time except for the crazy boyfriend I had for a year. I kicked him out on a weekly basis, but he'd wait until I fell asleep, then crawl back in through the window. He'd be next to me in the morning and we would make up for the next week. It was a crazy year. I could write a whole story about that year alone.
After three years of happily living on my own, but sick of being broke, I decided to move back to Kansas again. I worked at my dad's flea market full-time and didn't go out at all. My best friends were a married couple who were in their mid eighties. She was my mentor, and he was a sweet man who always knew the right thing to say. I loved them dearly.
After working there for five years, I was extremely burned out. Both the customers and the dealers in the flea market were driving me crazy, so I saved enough money to live on for a year, and I quit.
The next year was very interesting. I fell in love with Ewan McGregor after watching Moulin Rouge, and I discovered the internet. I printed out enough Ewan pictures to wallpaper my whole bathroom. Then I found a chat room called PalTalk and I practically lived there. I met a woman from Denmark with whom I'm still friends to this day. I met tons of guys and was really juggling the boyfriends. Then I met a man from London, and everything changed.
He was different. He was soft spoken and sweet, and I fell in cyber-love. After talking online and by telephone for several months, he bought me a plane ticket to London, and off I went. He had a ten year-old daughter and I stayed with the two of them for three months. We went everywhere. He took me to every tourist attraction in London, we went to the seaside several times, and I got to see a lot of the countryside. I adored London. What I liked best was simply going for walks, taking it all in. One night, I went alone to a pub nearby and met a bunch of people, and I had a blast. I fell in love with fish and chips too. After having the real thing, nothing else will ever do again.
Unfortunately, there were bad times as well. I have memories of arguments and battles of wills. I was supposed to stay six months, but left after three. Looking back, I remember the good times most, and I'll cherish those always.
Not long after I returned home from London, my dad brought the mail in one day and handed me a letter. It was from my first love, Jimmy. I was in shock, and I didn't even open the letter for hours until I regained my composure. He said he was out of prison, where he'd been for the last thirteen years, that he finally had his life together, and wondered if I was interested in calling him. I called the next night. We were both very nervous, and it was a little awkward at first. So I said something funny and he laughed. It was the same laugh that I remembered from twenty-three years before, and I just knew our chemistry was still there. We spoke on the phone every day for a month before I flew to Arizona to see him. We got married a month later.
I've written a whole, long story about Jimmy and myself, and if I write it again here, this will become a long story instead of a short one. So I will just sum it up the best I can.
Our marriage was a roller coaster. Jimmy would leave, and I would have episodes of depression, often accompanied by drunken rages. We couldn't live with or without each other. I can't count the times my heart was broken, and I'm sure it was the same thing for Jimmy. But I also can't count the beautiful, heartfelt, intimate memories Jimmy and I made together. Then, right before Thanksgiving, seven years ago, Jimmy left me for the last time, and went back to Arizona. This time, he didn't come back. He wanted to, but he got sick. He went to the hospital and found out that he had MRSA. I tried to go to him, but the only bus ticket I could afford was a twelve day in advance ticket, but Jimmy only lived eight days. Part of me died with him, and I doubt that I'll ever be completely over him.
I've been here in Kansas ever since. We moved to Topeka three years ago, which was a big step up from Pittsburg. I call this my bored period. I've pretty much been bored ever since Jimmy died. Also, around that time, I was diagnosed with bipolar and clinical depression, and started taking medication. I also have a couple of physical limitations, so I applied for disability and, while I've been denied twice, I have a good lawyer this time, and I'm pretty confident that I will win my case this time. When I do, I'll be moving to Portland, Oregon, and starting a simple little life on my own with my cats.
So, that's the story of the first half of my life. I'm really psyched about the next chapter. I shall be letting you know in time...
2 comments:
I'm looking forward to the next chapter, too! I really enjoy reading your stuff. Love you, Brushface!
Awww! Thanks Brushface!
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