I Made My Bed, I'll Lie in It

After my boyfriend left, I had a lot to do. I've always been a planner and that's what I did. I was accepted to college and I made a list of things we would need for our apartment. I was in charge of that "stuff" and a moving truck. It was $1,500 for a cross country move. That was a small fortune to me. He was in charge of getting us a car and an apartment. I needed the money. BAD. 

I worked and worked and worked. An average week for me was to work after school from 3-11 every day of the week except Wednesday. Then I would work 7-3 on Saturday and Sunday. Sometimes, if it was going to be busy, I'd go in at 5:30 or 6 am. Sometimes, if I was lucky, there would be a call-out for the afternoon shift and I'd pull a double. The minimum wage was $5.15 then and I was making $7.75. I was ALWAYS getting overtime. My boss never said a word to me about my hours. 

When I tell you I worked like a dog, I mean I worked like a dog. It was probably one of the hardest things I've ever done in my whole life. School, work, sleep....everyday on repeat. I was so tired but I liked my job. I had amazing co-workers and they placed good music. It was always busy so it was a welcome distraction. I would get a 1/2 hour break for dinner and I'd eat and Italian sub every night. I loved it. I was probably nutritionally deficient but youth made up for it.  

Sometimes I crammed in some homework on my lunch break. I tried as much as possible to do it at school. I wasn't trying to talk to anyone. Even if we had 2 minutes left in class, I would try to do as much as possible before the bell rang. I'd be doing homework at lunch. I hated the nights I wasn't able to finish my work at school because I'd be up until 12:30 in the morning and then having to roll out of bed at 6:45 the next day to do it all over again. 

I stopped giving one shit. That last six months, my hair was in a ponytail, I had no makeup on, and I stayed in jeans and an ARMY sweatshirt. Gone were the days of cute skirts and mascara. I had no time for it and I wasn't trying to impress anyone. 

The best part of my day was right after work. I would clock out around 11:00 pm, lift my bookbag onto my back, put a CD in my Discman, adjust my headphones,  and go out into the night to walk home. 

I was a tiny girl and I probably should not have been walking alone that late at night but it never occurred to me. I was never afraid. I would walk past the high school and through the parking lot and onto the soccer fields.  For the first time all day, I was really ALONE. 

I listened to music as I walked and it was just me and God. I prayed a lot on my walks. I thought about my life and the future. I did a lot of self-reflection. I was one day closer to being reunited with my love. I still love to walk. Whenever I need to clear my head, I pop in some earbuds and head out. My walks aren't at 11 o'clock anymore though. I can't even stay up that late anymore. 

During this time, I really pulled into myself. In some ways, I felt a lot of peace. It was a time of transition and I was taking the time to process it all. To dig deep inside myself to find the strength to move forward. I feel that way about my life right now, a little. 

But it wasn't all work. I decided that I wanted to get my belly button and my tongue pierced. I had always wanted to get my belly button pierced but my parents would never let me. I must have gone in an afternoon after work. I am 90% sure I went alone. I barely remember it, except for the part where the guy stretched my tongue out with a pair of tongs and suck a giant needle through it. 

That next week I couldn't help but stick out my tongue at myself in the mirror and pull up my shirt to admire my new body jewelry. I wanted to be a grownup and get married but I also wanted to be young and wear low rise jeans and crop tops, and have a whale tail and be covered in body glitter and feel pretty.

I went to my parent's house for dinner a few weeks later. They made it like a peace offering but it always turned into an opportunity to lecture me. Their faces when they noticed my tongue ring was comical. They treaded lightly. I had learned to assert my dominance and they knew I would just get up and leave if they said something that I didn't want to hear.

I wouldn't go every Sunday, but occasionally. I missed my siblings. I would make a short appearance and then leave again before things got uncomfortable. I'm still like that. lol.

Once they figured out that I wasn't going to listen, they enlisted my extended family to participate in the don't-get-married crusade. I got letters and phone calls, "Hey, I've been thinking about you...."
                       
It was intolerable. For Christ's sake, I wasn't asking anyone for anything. I was just trying to live my life. Even my uncle, the consummate bachelor, took me out to dinner and gave me the don't-get-married speech. We laughed about it when I attended his first wedding, a month before my 8th anniversary.

The rumor mill started at school. Not that it was a secret or anything. People would be like, "Are you getting married?" and I would say "Yes." Then they would just stare at me speechless. They looked at me like I was from outer space. Which -we all know- I most definitely am. ;)

I did get a lot of "Whys" with a few, "You knocked up or somethings."

My teachers were a mix. A lot of them felt bad for me. Some were supportive. And some were downright mean. I was told, "You'll probably wind up living in a trailer and working at Burger King."

Honestly, who says that to someone?!?!? First of all, I'm not a classist jerk so I don't see any problem with living in a trailer. Secondly, I love Whoppers so I would happily work at Burger King.

It was at this time that I learned to tune out the noise. That I could not control what other's think, I could only control myself. I learned to stop caring about everyone's opinions and to follow my heart. I had to. But to this day, I do not tolerate negativity. I always say, "Positive vibes only." Don't be speaking negativity on me or my life.

When I wasn't busy fielding questions and lectures, I was gathering the things for our apartment. I put stuff on layaway so I could pay in installments and then get it all at once. I got towels, pots and pans, a futon, floor lamps, this shower curtain that looked like stained glass flowers. I loved that shower curtain. We had it until we moved to Indiana in 2006. I was weirdly attached to this shower curtain. Goodwill has some brand-new mattresses that we overstocked and I got a new mattress and box spring for $100. I ordered a comforter from a catalog. It was emerald green with Chinese dragons printed on it. The "theme" for our bedroom was like, Asian infusion. I was so excited. These things were mine-ours-I'd picked them out and paid for them myself. I was proud of myself. I was like, Look at me buying spoons and shit. 

One day, I was in a literary magazine meeting and the teacher asked what I still needed. I went down my list. "Oh! I have a table and chairs for you!" I made arrangements to go to her house that Saturday after work to pick it up.

My mother-in-law let me borrow her car. When I pulled into the driveway, I was surprised. It was just a regular rancher. She was so eclectic and larger-than-life that I half expected her to live in a Tim Burton style Victorian mansion. I knocked on the door and she answered me right away and ushered me into her living room.

The inside of her house fit her personality more. It was dark, there were lots of plants and knick-knacks everywhere. We sat on the couch and her husband came in. She introduced us. Then she turned to me and said, "Would you like some Sambuca?" Whoa. Things were taking a weird turn. I said that I did and her husband came back with 3 shot glasses. I watched her pick it up and throw it back. I had never had liquor before and certainly had never taken a shot. I imitated her. It burned and tasted like black licorice. I hated it. Not many people can say they took their first shot with their high school English teacher. Sounds like the beginning of a bad Lifetime movie.

We talked for a while. I think she was fascinated by me. She always loved when I wrote scandalous poetry. I wrote a poem once and one of the lines in it was, "You found God between my legs." She loved it so much. She would reference it to me constantly. She thought it was the funniest thing ever. I was a Catholic girl who broke all the rules. Well, some of the rules. I wasn't drinking liquor, obviously. The poem was published in the school magazine and distributed to all the students and teachers.
                          
I didn't care what people thought and I was who I was and that side of me appealed to her. I think she would be terribly disappointed now. If she knew I was a suburban PTA mom, she would spit out her Sambuca and hate it so much. I think she would find me incredibly boring. I don't write naughty poetry anymore. I write mom poetry:

"The milk is right in front of you,
It's simply behind the ketchup bottle and my soul."

*snap* *snap* *snap* *snap*

After we had our chat, she gave me a tour of her house and showed me pictures of herself when she was young. She never had any children of her own. Her husband loaded the table and chairs into the back of the car. It was perfect. A small, wood card table with two chairs. Just right for young newlyweds. She was always so kind to me and I still think of her often.

She wasn't the only one. My French teacher threw me a surprise bridal shower. I was not expecting it AT ALL. She asked me to come to her house for something and the back den was full of my girlfriends. There were snacks and everything. It meant so much to me. We visited and I opened gifts. High schoolers don't have money but they all pitched in and brought me a little, white microwave. I loved that microwave. It was with us for 6 years, 4 states and 5 houses. It served us well.

They also brought me a bunch of skanky underwear. It was a bunch of 17 and 18-year-old girls - like what else do you get someone? I got at least 6 thongs. Thongs and a microwave. That sums up my personality. They will never know how much I really appreciated it. It was a wonderful afternoon.

My parents found out and my stepmother called the school and complained to the principal to try to get my teacher in trouble. I felt so bad. She put herself out there to do something nice for me and had to deal with so much drama about it. She didn't regret it at all. She was a badass. When 9/11 happened, I was in her class and they told all the teachers to turn off the TVs and she refused. She was like, I do what I want. I have so much respect for her.

Time continued to march on, as it does. I did go to the senior prom. I didn't care about it but I did have FOMO. My friend Bill (the one that helped me move out) asked me to go with him. I borrowed a dress and shoes. I was saving every dime so I was doing prom on an actual shoe spring. I worked that morning. I went in at 5 am because I was leaving at noon to get ready. My boss came in the morning and told me that the third shift person called off. He asked if I'd be willing to cover the shift and that he would give me off for Memorial Day in exchange. The third shift was time and a half. I couldn't pass up the offer.

I left at noon and my friend's sister did my hair. I did my own makeup and didn't get my nails done. I was so "meh" about the whole thing. Bill picked me up and we went to his family's house for pictures. Then we went to prom. I had almost no recollection of the prom whatsoever. I must have danced. I have a handful of pictures. The only thing I remember is that this couple was nominated for prom king and queen and the boyfriend won and the girlfriend didn't and she sobbed. I felt awful for her. That was the actual tea.

We left early and had dinner at a diner and then he took me back to the house to change into my work uniform. Then, he dropped me off at work right before 11pm. I still had full prom hair and make-up. Some of my classmates came in throughout the night. They looked confused to see me behind the deli counter with a full up-do. I made them sandwiches and I drank a ton of soda. I was scheduled for the first shift the following day so I pulled a double. I worked from 5am-12pm, went to the prom, came back and worked from 11pm until 3 pm the next day. I was up for 36 hours. Then, I walked home. I could barely keep my eyes open. I almost laid down on the soccer field and let the vultures take me. It was harsh.

I walked into the house and my mother-in-law jumped up. "You're home! I got your wedding dress!" This lady really took it upon herself to buy my wedding dress. lol. She retrieved the lace dress and I took one look at it and said, "I love it." Thankfully, I did like it. Even if I hated it, I would have worn it not to hurt her feelings.

Then, I walked into the bedroom, took off my shoes, and passed out. I didn't even take off my uniform. I slept for 20 hours. I woke up and didn't even know who I was. That's probably why I forgot prom. It was Memorial Day. I walked out of the bedroom and my brother-in-law said, "Dude! I thought you were dead!" I kind of was.