Thursday, October 21

The End of the End (You thought I'd never finish this story!)

So, I got happy. YAY ME! I joined a book club, I got more active in my sorority-thing (PEO), I became a queen (Sweet Potato Queens' Book of Love), and I got happy. I started to really believe that Grimace was as much mess as I was when he showed up on my doorstep, and that, to quote His Dadness, "This has nothing to do with how lovable, how wifely, or how wonderful you are." All I can tell you is that when you begin to truly see what chunk of stuff is actually yours, and what chunk of stuff is NOT yours at all, life gets infinitely easier. This is not to say that I knew what to do with all of this newly-acquired information, but it was definitely easier not to continue thinking it was all me. 'Cause it wasn't.

Back to the part that was mine, though. I met and married Grimace during the time I was broken. So, he got, as his part of the happy bargain, a broken partner. I don't mean that I'm entirely fixed now, either, as broken-ness is part of humanity, but I was broken in the sense that I needed love and comfort, and I needed it not in an egalitarian way. I needed a lot of comfort. And for a while, Grimace comforted me. He was present, attentive, and generous. Then, just for a while, I needed some more comfort, but he decided (consciously or unconsciously) not to give it anymore. And that hurt a whole bunch. As I said, he got a broken girl, and I wasn't OK just yet. It was sobbing, puking, heart-stabbing pain. But I'd quit a marriage once, and I wasn't going to do it again. And then, once I got happy, I didn't need so much comforting. (Not to say I didn't WANT it, I just didn't neeeeeeed it so much.)

So, I started doing fun stuff like road trips and concerts and camping and reading new things and playing with the dogs and vacations and meeting friends for drinks after work. To which, Grimace was invited. And chose not to join.

It began to feel like I was dragging a huge man through my life, whilst simultaneously doing his laundry and cleaning the toilets! FUN FUN FUN! (There's really no way to say that without sounding bitter, so I didn't bother to try.) I was, in fact, trying to drag someone through life. And unwilling participant. Pretty much everyone who reads this knows me, and I ask you, fellow goofballs, is it easy to ignore me? Um, not so much. Yet, Grimace managed to exist as though he were the only one living. I was married alone. And gosh it was lovely.

You know what I just realized? (Yeah, just now.) There's really no way to tell the whole story, because I was IN the thing. And so was Grimace, and he didn't exactly tell me what was going on the whole time.

The bottom line is this:

When he told me he liked me better before I was happy, I knew it was over.

You can't fix that.

I'm not gonna get un-happied.

God made me so I could be fun, and bright, and loving, and so that I could be happy if I chose to. I choose to.


Smashlee said...

You are an amazing woman. That sums it right up.

christ*el #3tx said...

drunk Stacey is SO much fun, but Happy Stacey is my FAVORITE.

devilboss said...

Are you kidding me? I love Happy Stacey and another thing, if Grimace didn't love Happy Stacey then he was the one with the giant problem.

ropemonkey said...

sheite! Everyone wants to be with Happy Stacey! Who wouldn't? (well, besides Grimace...but he doesn't count no mo).

I'm glad your Happy Stacey & didn't become unhappy for anyone.

*L'ola said...

a wise woman once told a story (on an absolutely terrifyingly bad reality show) about an ancient judicial practice. when someone killed someone else they were not put to death in the quick and humane sense but instead were sentenced to strap that dead body on their own back and live life and go about their business with this dead guy on their back. eventually the weight of the dead guy crushed the murdering guy to death. wisewoman said that for years she had this hypothetical dead guy (her very own husband at the time) on her back and he was crushing all the love and happy right out of her, till one day God told her "Wisewoman, lay him down." and she did. and she was so much better than she ever thought she could be. she stopped taking on his badness as her own and she shed herself of all this dead weight and now she is happily married to another non dead guy and a she is a really fantabulous person. I've had to lay down some dead guys recently and i can say that i am so happy now i can barely stand myself. i picked a few dead guys up this week and as usual, my wife is reminding me unbeknownst to her to lay the suckers right back down again. i love you, my wifey extrodinaire. you are even wiser than the wisest of wise women and i love you.

oh, and just in case you thought i was getting wise too i have to tell you that the woman who told the story was Tammy Faye (Baker) Messner and the show was The Surreal Life. Yeah, i'm a dork. and i'm okay with that.

allie said...

i hate it when the pearls of wisdom flow from tammy faye .... but i have to admit it, i like her. anyway - i'm thrilled that my girl chose happiness ... cause the thought of her less than happy breaks my heart.

HisRoyalTness said...

I get you. I do. And I'm glad that the Lord allowed me to peer into y'all's world, if only for a moment, as an outsider looking in.

MajorMike said...

Happy Stacey is much better than sobbing, puking, heart-stabbed Stacey.

Madley said...

This was a great story and truly life-affirming... I had to email to a friend of mine! And I'm singing The Patridge Family's "C'mon Get Happy".....

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