I have said it before and I will say it again ... to be a successful writer, you have to write what you know. So, for you unfortunate few who have the pleasure to play an important role in my life ... you are so screwed. Because I cannot write about my life without including bits and pieces of yours as well ... our lives are intertwined. With that being said ...
So dear readers ... we last left our heroine (me) flying high above the sky. But eventually my feet had to land on the ground and they are now firmly planted in the mud and the muck of my new reality.
Let's take a moment, shall we, to discuss what the word "reality" means in 2011. Think Real Housewives of ... New York, New Jersey, Atlanta, Beverly Hills, Orange County. If any of you take time out of your busy lives to feast on this eye candy (and yes, obviously I do or I wouldn't be able to write about it) ... you will find that (a) very few of them are actually married (a lot of them have actually gotten divorced since the debut of their respective shows) ... so they aren't really wives per se (attention Andy Cohen ... I am petitioning you rename the shows Ex Wives of ... Wherever ... just sayin'); (b) they go out every single night of the week without said husbands (which may account for the high divorce rates) ... so they are rarely in their respective houses ; (c) have children but choose to spend most of their time with their fellow Housewive/ frienemies; and (d) are the meanest women on the planet.
Seriously ... I have my peeps, the BFF and Sargent. I can guarantee you this ... if I ever and I mean ever spoke to either one of them or treated either one of them the way these Housewives treat each other ... I would kick my own ass. It's ridiculous ... and marketed as reality.
Now let's look at another reality phenomenon ... The Jersey Shore. Don't even pretend you don't know what I'm talking about ... you know who Snookie is ... even if you are too embarrassed to admit it. As a viewer ... I can't take my eyes off of these morons. I can't. As a mother ... OMG. That's all ... no more to say ... just OMG. If my children were ever caught acting even remotely like Snookie, JWow, Sammi Sweetheart, the Situation, Ronnie, Vinnie or Pauly D (I told you I can't stop watching them) ... I would call child services myself to have them taken away because whomever is responsible for raising the cast of the Shore should be in jail. Reality? Lord help us all if that is the best of what future generations have to offer.
Another popular example of reality in today's culture ... Survivor. Now I know you've all seen at least one episode of Survivor. It has had like 22 seasons or something outrageous like that. And their theme? Lie, cheat, manipulate ... compromise all of your morals ... and come out on top as the sole survivor. Entertaining ... yes. Reality? Maybe in some circles.
Another juicy morsel to chew on when you're bored ... Keeping up with the Kardashians. No. I can't even go there. I just can't.
A new favorite ... Ice Loves Coco. If you haven't seen this ... don't do it. You're going to get sucked in. You are. Coco is a real life Jessica Rabbit. Quite possibly the dumbest most endearing caricature of a person you are ever going to find. Reality? I don't know ... that's my point. What is reality?
Well, at the moment ... my reality is that I am standing at a fork in the road. Both roads are muddy ... difficult to maneuver through without the assistance of a GPS, 4-wheel drive, and really good tires. One road leads to the reconciliation of my marriage ... the other leads toward the Big D ... Divorce. Unfortunately, I don't have producers in my corner directing my reality, fitting all the drama into a one-hour episode and determining the outcome long before the season finale. Nope ... it's just me ... my GPS (God), my four-wheel drive (determination) ... and really good tires (my peeps, my family and prayer partner).
I have made the pit stop at the fork in the road to rest for awhile. Because I am a firm believer in not making any decisions in the midst of a storm. You have to let the rolling waves subside until you can hear from God as to what path you are to take.
My BFF is facing a new reality of her own. Approximately one week after finding myself staring into the eyes of the Big D ... my BFF had to "one-up" me and go and get herself diagnosed with the Big C ... Cancer. Now, before you start sending out the hate mail and chastising me for saying she "one-upped" me ... please know that my BFF knows how much I love, love, love her. But, let's be honest ... how in the world am I supposed to run to the sanctuary of her home and sit on her couch, petting her dog, drinking her coffee, whining about my life when she has cancer. Well, I can't.
Nope. I had to climb off the ME train and board the BFF Big C Express. This ab fab woman ... without whom my life would not be complete ... has the Big C. It's a fact. There is nothing we can do to change it ... so the peeps have rallied and done what we do best ... support her. My job ... the comic relief. When things are getting too heavy ... I can step up and compete with Kathy Griffin, Don Rickles, Chris Rock etc and lay down a one-liner that will most definitely lighten the mood. As witty as I may be ... I'm still a sucker ... a real sentimental baby ... so when the BFF and I start to get emotional ... the Sargent steps in with a "suck it up and put your big girl panties on," to keep our tears in check.
Over the past several weeks, the BFF has been on quite the Big C roller coaster. First up ... the biopsy ... wherein she was strapped into some Medieval style torture device and impaled with a big needle which took a sample of the sickness growing inside of her which confirmed what we feared to already be true. That yes, she did have the Big C.
Then came a hysterectomy and lumpectomy which fast-forwarded her into menopause and unable to lift her arm for two weeks. Then came the waiting game for results ... only to be faced with scary medical terminology such as "invasive, mastectomy, radiation, chemotherapy, genetic testing and MRI." It's complicated ... confusing ... and scary.
I would do anything for my BFF ... even eat tomatoes ... and she knows how much I hate tomatoes. So standing beside her and holding her hand, lending an ear and lifting her up in prayer, which is what I can do, doesn't seem to be nearly enough. But I do what I can.
Now the BFF hasn't been getting out much since the Big C has entered her life ... so she was apprehensive in attending the recent graduation party for the Sargent's oldest child for fear that people would be stopping her at every turn and asking her about her diagnosis. So being the good friend that I am ... I made a promise. That whenever she got cornered by such a person ... I would casually walk up and interrupt and say something along the lines of "have you heard my husband left me?" A very fine distraction indeed ... taking the focus off of the Big C ... and placing it on the Big D ... and allowing her to make the great escape. Alas, the opportunity did not present itself as most people were quite respectful offering only well wishes and not asking for her to complete a HIPPA form so they could access her complete medical history.
Which brings me to another chapter in our story ... the Big 5-0. The Sargent will be reaching this milestone sooner rather than later (truth is there are 10 long months leading up to the big day) ... and plans have been made for the BFF and I to whisk her off to Vegas for this blessed event.
The Sargent not only faces the reality of the Big 5-0 knocking on her door ... but the reality of her oldest child graduating high school and preparing to leave the nest. Shortly after she reaches the big 5-0, she will face yet another reality as her youngest child will be following in her older brother's footsteps.
The peeps and I have spent thousands of hours discussing the empty nest syndrome and what we will do with ourselves once our children leave us to pursue their separate passions. And, truth is, after a countless number of calories consumed, a countless number of tears shed and a countless number of hours of laughter ... we are still no closer to knowing the answer to that burning question than we were when we started ... and we started when they were in the first grade. So, the Sargent has the distinct honor of letting go of our first baby and we are looking to her to blaze the trail.
Now ... take three best friends ... one facing the Big D ... one conquering the Big C and the other turning the big 5-0 and you have ... well ... enough material for a whole other blog ... or the makings of the next War and Peace. Which is an apt title. For we are all at war in our own way ... one with cancer ... one with marriage ... and one with letting go. And we are all searching for peace in our own way ... one with being at peace with her diagnosis ... one with being at peace with making the proper decision in regard to her marriage ... and one with being at peace with growing older and starting a new chapter in her life.
Point of the matter is this ... we all have our crosses to bear in this lifetime. You have no idea where you are headed ... or where you will end up. No one person's problems are more or less than yours are. Yes, the Big C is definitely scarier than the Big D and the Big D may be scarier than the Big 5-0 and being left with an empty nest ... but we don't keep score ... we take each other's problems in stride and support each other 100% of the way.
It has been said that if you find that great love of your life, you are one of the lucky ones. Well I must be really lucky then ... because I have been fortunate enough to find two.
The Big D, The Big C and the Big 5-0 ain't got nothing on us and I'm thinking of giving Bravo a call ... I think I just found the next "big" thing ... Real Housewives of Podunk, PA anyone?
© 2010-2011 Melanie L. Miller All Rights Reserved
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