Grin and Bear It: How to Be Happy No Matter What Reality Throws Your Way (11 page)

Sorry, harsh but true.

You were an annoyance and not a part of my life plan. As we spent more and more time together, I realized you have so many wonderful qualities and so much to offer. I think people misunderstand you. You always cared about what was best for my life and helped me become stronger. If I may offer a little constructive criticism, you can be severe and your timing is usually totally wrong, but we all have things to work on. Do you think we will always be good friends? I never thought I would say this but I hope so. Why? If it weren’t for you, I would not have been led to the greatest joys in my life. So, until we hang again …

I love you,

Jenni

I wanted to learn to be truthful and authentically present for the people who loved me and whoever might be in my future. My marriage was over and I had to understand that was actually a new beginning. That’s the pain and joy of being on your journey.

Without it ending I would have never been able to begin my life again. I desperately wanted a life that was full, one that I could share with someone who had their own responsibilities and who wasn’t competing with me for the spotlight. I needed to be assured that I could feel loved, safe, secure, attractive, and desired. Through my many hours of therapy, speaking to my Spiritual Father, leaning on friends, and the passing of time that followed my divorce, I finally understood that I made mistakes in my relationship, ones I can now look back on and accept as my own. I felt like a complete failure when my marriage collapsed. I would have done anything to make it work.

When you go through a traumatic event such as a divorce or a death of a loved one, you will most likely discover who your real friends and allies are—and aren’t. I vividly recall how my parents’ friends took sides when my mom and dad split up. I watched people she loved dearly abandon her at her weakest. Naturally, I didn’t think about the fallout from my split with Chris, but it came.

Though my immediate family was kind as my marriage crumbled, they could never seem to find the right words or the ability to nurture me through in a way that I found supportive. They liked Chris, but truth be told, my mother never wanted me to marry him in the first place. She never said the words, but I knew she was thinking when he left,
I told you so.
It would take her many years to confess this was how she really felt. When I asked her why she never said anything, she told me it was something I’d have to figure out for myself. In this case, her decision to not speak up was a form of tough love. And, she was right to stay quiet because there’s no way I would have listened to what she would have said back then anyway.

I’ve found that when someone goes through loss, people often retreat because they don’t know what to say or do, and maybe that’s how our friends and family felt. It makes sense, but it doesn’t make it any easier to accept.

Watching how everyone responded when my husband left me was an uncomfortable new beginning. Losing some longtime friends was almost as painful. My ah-ha moment that I had moved on came the day I realized I no longer missed Chris. I was sorry I had to go through the storm but it forced me to face my worst fears as they were all right in front of me.

There is great power in thinking through the things you really want. I spent too many years dwelling on what I couldn’t have while making up every excuse I could think of to justify what was missing.

I took zero responsibility for my lack of action or participation in my own life. In the process, I discovered that I was the real roadblock stopping myself from achieving my dreams. It had nothing to do with my parents, my bosses, or my husband. It was me.

I prayed.

And I prayed—

And then I prayed some more.…
for guidance, wisdom, family, and a home.

I allowed my faith to carry me through and bring me to a place where I could embrace that
over
and
beginning
really are the
same.
There is great power in change. Some people can only see change as scary, negative, and unwanted, but most often we find ourselves in a far better place we were in on the other side of that fear and resistance to a critical life adjustment. It doesn’t matter if it’s leaving an unfulfilling job, a miserable marriage, or moving to a new home. Change requires courage and strength to not only to make them but to also embrace them. As time went on, my prayers were being answered, as wisdom came first. It revealed so much to me, especially when it came to my ex and what I truly wanted in a relationship.

I didn’t let a fair amount of time pass after my breakup with Chris before I wanted to get back into the world of dating. There was a hole in my life that I wanted to fill with someone, anyone, because I was lonely. When we first separated, I was full of angst and fear that I was too old to ever find someone new. To make matters worse, there were plenty of people in my life feeding my insecurities with comments they thought were funny, when in fact they were hurtful.

THINGS I DID
NOT
NEED TO HEAR

  1.  A woman in her late thirties has as much chance of finding a husband as being hit by a meteor.

  2.  Your clock has ticked. The eggs are dead. No children for you.

  3.  Just saw your ex-husband with a girl.

  4.  Just saw your ex-husband with a
cute
girl.

  5.  Just saw your ex-husband with a cute girl that looks
eighteen
.

I was hearing all of this and more. And hello, I don’t know any woman who wants to hear any of that, especially when they are vulnerable. What I really needed was a mental makeover. But that would take time and I was too afraid of being alone to put off finding the love of my life for very long. I wasn’t sure what was waiting for me out there: I often believed nothing was and was doing my best to convince myself that it would be okay if I ended up alone. Of course, it wasn’t how I really felt.

For as far back as I can remember I have been afraid to sleep alone. I know it sounds odd but when I was younger, I had my mom lay in bed with me until I fell asleep. This went on well into grade school. All during college and even after college, I had roommates who shared a room with me. Then came my now ex-husband, so there was always someone else around. (*Note to Mom: if you are reading this we did
not
have sex before we were married, I promise.)

Call it fear of abandonment, insecurity, or simply an inability to cope with loneliness—whatever the reasons, I could not imagine living alone. Even after I split from Chris, it didn’t take me very long to find someone else to live with. A girl roommate—a friend I didn’t know very well—took me in because I didn’t want to stay in the house I had shared with Chris. There was a lot of teasing from Jeff that I had suddenly become a U-Haul lesbian. I hadn’t. But given what I’d been through, who would have blamed me if I suddenly decided to swim in the lady pond and kiss Katy Perry and like it?

My friend was very kind and extremely supportive at a time when I was weak and vulnerable. I was extremely appreciative for the time I lived with her. But it was time to put on my big-girl pants, move out, and be on my own. And I did!

My first night alone in my new house, I did what any other normal girl would do: I grabbed my two dogs, put them on the bed, and made my first attempt at sleeping alone. I could call it home—
my home
.

The first night, I felt a sense of bewilderment.
What do I do with myself? Which side should I sleep on? What pillows feel right and so on?
I tossed and turned until I finally got out of bed—trying to escape the discomfort of being by myself—and began pacing all around my house trying to think of something to do. (And cooking something was not an option, because I’d only have to cook for myself … because I was ALONE!) I could clean … Nah.

TV? No one to watch it with.

Reading was not an option because it involves being “interested” in things other than oneself—and at the time I wasn’t interested in anyone but me.

Then, just when I thought I was on the verge of a mini-breakdown, I stopped and thought,
Maybe I should just …

Be grateful.

Be content.

Be quiet.

Be thankful for this coherent moment of stillness.

Be thankful that Jeff Lewis does not know where I live.

It didn’t take me long to realize that there are several fantastic benefits to sleeping alone: The TV can remain on all night; the extra leg space is awesome; there’s no snoring, unless you count the sounds that sometimes come from my two dogs. For a while, I still slept crammed to one side of the bed, optimistic and hopeful that Prince Charming was coming. (And boy did he ever, in the form of a wonderful Greek-American Orthopedic Surgeon from Chicago … but more on him later.)

Long before I would meet my Prince Charming, let’s be real, I had to kiss a lot of frogs. Whether you consider it a rite of passage or a means to an end, dating after a divorce can be brutal. To ease my way back into the game, I decided to seek the advice of a fellow Bravo reality star who makes a living coaching singles like me to find true love—Ms. Patti Stanger.

Once I came out of my post-divorce fog, I realized there was a close friend of mine who I found myself attracted to. We had a history of playful flirtation. On Valentine’s Day, with both of us reeling from recent breakups, we met for dinner and drinks, which ended romantically, a bit of a surprise, albeit a pleasant one. Still, I was so new at dating I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t want to be too overbearing or aggressive so I asked Patti for help.

This was her advice: Write him a text that reads, “Valley girls are hot. You don’t need your passport to come to this side of the hill. Your serve.”

You see, I live in an area of Los Angeles known as the San Fernando Valley. In L.A., that has the potential to make me geographically undesirable for someone who lives on the west side of the city. I thought it was a risk, but Patti, being the expert at love, and me, being, well, not, I decided to push the send button. I’m baaaaaack!

I never heard back from the guy again.

Like, ever.

(I actually never say things like I did in that text. Like, ever.)

What I should have done was text him to say that someone took my phone and sent that message. But really, what was the point?

Even so, I have to admit, that text message was good for a lot of laughs, so it was worth it.

Sort of.

From that point on, I had a string of bad dates that have provided tremendous comic relief. I went into autopilot doing what a lot of divorcées do—I put myself out there and got back on the horse. My first real “date” was with a really hot guy. Stupid hot. I mean stupid and hot. On our date he launched into his thoughts on why he should try to become an actor. He genuinely believed he could do it. He suggested that I could start taking him to my auditions, or even put him on
Flipping Out.
It was right around the time that he ordered a random broth soup for dinner that I decided to end our date early. When your date orders soup for dinner, it’s hard to case the menu for a real meal without feeling piggy. The next day, he asked if he could borrow my video camera. I didn’t respond after that.

I was never sure if I was being asked out because I was on television or for other reasons. Regardless, I started to understand how rich men feel when they wonder if a chick is dating them for their money or for them. It’s not like I had a lot of money—I didn’t—but it seemed like people were enamored with the idea of going out with someone who was on TV.

Then there was the guy who showed up at my house in the middle of summer in a long black trench coat, channeling his best Keanu Reeves look from
The Matrix
. There was yet another date who seemed so nice when he asked me to come see a “show” he was working on as a producer. I thought he was handsome and fun. After the final curtain fell, he came over to me and planted a full-on French kiss in front of a large crowd of people. I thought,
Wow, I never dreamed this would be my new life
as I sat stunned in the audience of
Dancing with the Stars.
Later that night we went for sushi. Somehow he got a sliver in his finger from his chopstick and he couldn’t finish eating until someone from the kitchen helped him get the sliver out with tweezers. He left me sitting alone at the table for twenty minutes.

I mean, c’mon. I told him I didn’t think we’d be having any more dates. A few days later, I received a letter from him saying he hoped I would find someone who I would want to be in the sandbox with. It was sweet. But I still never talked to him again.

I met one guy for a coffee date. By the time I arrived, he’d almost finished his coffee. I wasn’t sure if I was supposed to get my own coffee or if he’d offer. He didn’t. He then launched into a long discussion about his rehab and things he likes to do on dates, like chopping vegetables for salads and watching foreign movies. I thought coffee dates were supposed to be short, but two hours later, I was still listening to him “share.” Truth be told, I didn’t say much on that date, mostly because I couldn’t get a word in edgewise. That relationship wasn’t going to work out.

One time I gave my number to a guy after telling me he was leaving for Canada for a few weeks. He said he’d like to take me out when he got back. I thought he was really cute, so I let him put his number in my phone. For two weeks, he texted me the sweetest messages about how he couldn’t wait to see me and how excited he was to go out on a date. I was on cloud nine. Finally someone was treating me nice! When he got back, we made a plan to meet. However, when he came to pick me up, I had no idea who the guy was standing at my front door. You see, I had his friend put his number in my phone, too, and I’d forgotten which guy I was communicating with. Worse, he was barely twenty-one years old—though I think he might have been eighteen with a fake ID. We went out that night but it was, shall we say, awkward, especially when he said I reminded him of his mother.