Understanding Character Defects, Part Two:

The saga continues as I give you a glimpse into the craziness I created in my life moving into my twenties. I feel blessed to have the perspective I have today and understand that I wasn’t a bad person, I was a sick person. If you continue to read each part of my story you’ll see what I mean. For now, just continue with part 2…..

So there I was, home for Christmas break, in sunny Rancho Mirage, CA. I was elated to be away from the weather in Michigan, but more than evading the snow, I was happy to evade the tornado that I had created there. I was exhausted from all of the lies and manipulations I crafted on a daily basis. I can recall feeling this sense of relief as soon as I stepped off the airplane in California. On the plane ride there I had carefully rehearsed the dialogue I would soon deliver to my parents and God willing they would behoove me and grant my request to move back home. That was the plan. I thought that if I could just start with a clean slate in a new place, at a new school, then I could organize my life better, focus on my studies more, party less and make friends with a better group of people that wouldn’t be such a bad influence on me. I had pretty well convinced myself that all of my troubles were the result of the shortcomings of those around me, rather than of my own making. Obviously I had just got caught up with the wrong group and “it would never happen again”. This was a recurring message I told myself countless times before and countless times after, for decades yet to come. Unfortunately, whatever I swore off and proclaimed would never happen again, always happened again, and usually to a more severe degree.

Shortly upon my arrival home, my parents asked me to sit down because they had some important news to discuss. I was a little nervous that the news had something to do with me, and that someone must’ve called and reported to them the state of affairs back at my college. But to my great relief, I was totally off base and the meeting had absolutely nothing to do with me. See a small detail that I hadn’t yet realized is that everything in life didn’t have to do with Amy. In my head, the world pretty much revolved around how I was feeling, what I wanted, what I didn’t want, and ultimately what would make me happy. It took me many years to realize that I am just not that important! What was important though was that my parents had announced they were moving to an even more sunny, beautiful place than the desert. In just a matter of months, they were packing up shop and moving to Hawaii. What amazing luck I had! I already had a new game plan in mind based upon this news and quickly tweaked my carefully crafted sob story about why I couldn’t return to college and needed to move home as soon as possible. The only blissful detail that had changed is that “home” would now be in Hawaii. 

I absolutely loved Hawaii and knew that my life would be perfect there.  I grew up going there from a very young age, as my mom owned a travel agency in Los Angeles  that specialized in group travel. We got to tag along on a lot of really amazing trips throughout my childhood. Hawaii was a popular destination for corporate and group travel so we were able to go at least once a year. I was really excited to establish my new life there. I was going to be disciplined, studious, responsible and honest. I would meet the right new friends at University of Hawaii once I transferred there and things would be peaceful and happy. No chaos, no tornadoes. This was what I laid out in my mind in the months leading up to the move. Interestingly enough, I never did go back to Michigan. My “boring dorm-mate” packed up all my stuff and shipped it across the country to me (not sure I even thanked her). I barely even called a single person to say my goodbyes. As far as I was concerned, I had escaped a near tragic outcome back at college and fate had delivered me this amazing new life plan and I needed to stay focused on that, and not distract myself with any feelings of sadness, regret or remorse. I was a good person and just got off track but now I was back on the path to a successful college career and a great future in hotel management. I didn’t have time to waste with the people of my past, they were now irrelevant. This cavalier attitude towards people, places and things stayed with me for a long time. I had no ability to acknowledge my part in failed relationships or endeavors. I simply cut my losses and moved on, never even considering the effect it had on others, much less myself. Denial was the name of the game.

After moving to Hawaii many weeks passed, and then months, with a plethora of delays and exaggerated excuses about why I hadn’t transferred into the University of Hawaii. I was working full time and being productive so my parents just gave up asking about college after awhile. I was working as a restaurant server and worked mostly nights so that gave me the entire day to sit at the beach and relax. I was young so I figured that school could wait and I could take a semester or two off without it being a big deal. I had a job so it wasn’t like I was being lazy. Plus, I liked working in the restaurant business. It was kind of like a big family, with everyone hanging out together after work, meeting up at the beach during the day and hosting parties on the weekend. It didn’t take long for me to find the exact same type of crowd I had found in that freezing, boring, dull, lame town in Michigan. I was quickly developing the same chaotic lifestyle that I had promised would never happen again. I made a lot of excuses about the why of it all, but ultimately I decided that Hawaii just wasn’t for me. It was too slow paced and I was pretty sure that I had island fever. I could definitely relate to people complaining about that (even though they had lived there much longer than one year) and was pretty sure that I was only partying too much and getting into trouble because I was bored. There was just nothing else to do while living on an island. It was time to craft my next geographic move and I’d decided that the easiest way for me to get off the island would be to move back to Los Angeles and live with my grandma. She was always there for me and I knew she would help me get things sorted out, back in school and back on track. Hawaii was just a small detour but it wasn’t a big problem because it had barely been a year and I could easily move on and forget this time even existed. Once again, I manipulated the whole situation to everyone around me so that I could appear the victim, gain sympathy and ensure getting exactly where and what I wanted. It’s so clear to me now that I was a mastermind of lies, manipulation and deception, all stemming from my unwavering desire to feel different, better, happier, prettier, smarter, more important, special. What I failed to understand is that wherever I went, there I was. The problem wasn’t the place or the people. The problem was me. I was constitutionally incapable of being honest with myself though.  

So at the age of 19 I was back to my original hometown of Los Angeles. I hadn’t lived there since the age of 14 so it felt great to be back. Within one week I had re-connected with several old friends and was already feeling a million times better. Clearly, this was the solution. I just needed to be in a big city with a lot going on and plenty of stimulation so I didn’t get bored and restless again. I enrolled myself at the community college near my grandma’s house so I could get back to the original game plan of college, then career. I had now taken a year and a half off and it wasn’t so easy to motivate myself to get to class each day, especially when I was being invited to do far more entertaining things. After a few months, I wasn’t even attending a single class. I had found a new social circle and was out every single night. My running mate was a friend from the desert that I went to high school with that now lived in West Hollywood. She was pursuing a modeling career and was super connected with all of the club owners. We had a very busy schedule, going to a different club nearly every night, never having to wait in line and rarely having to pay for anything. My ego was so big at the time that I’m not really sure how it fit through the doors of all of those clubs. But make no mistake, it did. I partied to a whole different level than I had before and thought my life was near perfect. I had worked my way into a position as a makeup artist for photo shoots and modeling gigs. I made really good money for an uneducated 19 year old and thought I was able to manage a lifestyle that I really couldn’t afford, including rent and a car payment that were completely out of my budget. There are too many stories to tell about that year of my life, but the bottom line is that after 12 months my life was starting to spin out of control. This was a lot more serious than previous times though because I had more wreckage now. I was a little older and had more stuff, like bills and responsibilities, but more than that I had a big ego and a lot of pride. I wasn’t about to admit defeat and run home to my family, but I was desperately lost and unhappy. I had developed a small party habit (called drugs) along the way and was keenly aware that I needed a way out of my current living situation. And that’s when I met him, Husband Number One. 

I liked that this guy was different than the others I’d met and dated throughout the years. Born and bred on the streets of Brooklyn, he was not buying anyone’s bullshit, especially mine. I couldn’t manipulate him or pretend things were any different than they really were as he was too street savvy for that. I also liked that he had a very different circle of friends than mine, basically all Italian, and strong men with a strong opinion. They went to clubs sometimes but never partied like me and my friends. He was young but had strong convictions, morals and values, like honesty, loyalty and integrity. I gravitated towards these things, knowing that he could help me find my way back to a better reality than the one I was living. Less than 6 months after meeting, we drove from California to Texas to build a new future together and live near his parents who had just moved there. His parents had mirror image Christian beliefs and ideals to that of my parents. They were very kind and supportive, but encouraged us not to live together prior to marriage. So, without my parents knowledge, we got married in the living room of the Pastor’s home of the small church that we had been attending. I was 20 years old and now married to a 21 year old unemployed man that I hadn’t known even 9 months yet moved half way across the country with. I was really nervous to tell my mom what we had done but when I finally worked up the courage to, lets just say she was not happy. I don’t blame her. I was young and impervious, with a track record of concurrent bad decisions. It took awhile but things did smooth over as she realized that I was actually in a far more stable place, was working, going to church and completely void of any type of partying. I had finally settled down. Maybe all I needed this whole time was the right guy. I had definitely picked my share of the wrong guys and felt like that may have been the root issue. With a good man by my side, I should be happy and content. These were the messages I was telling myself. 

That’s not exactly how things went though. After a fairly short period of time, we both realized that he and I were like vinegar and oil. Two strong willed people from very different worlds that were too young and lacking in life experience to communicate effectively or cope with stress together. It was a constant battlefield with us blaming each other for all of our troubles. I will admit that I was doing most of the blaming. Everything that didn’t go according to my plan was his fault. I was an insolent brat, always complaining about what I didn’t have and what I wanted that he couldn’t provide for me. It was a fairly miserable existence I had created, but luckily one day things changed. I was pregnant. We found out that we were having a son and though nervous, we were both really excited. Our families were both very supportive and I was blessed to have a relatively easy pregnancy. Unfortunately we just didn’t seem to be able to build a successful life in Texas, and he constantly struggled to find his niche and join the workforce. I convinced him that the whole problem was the state of Texas and we just needed to get back to California, specifically San Diego. That friend that I moved to Michigan to go to college with lived there, had a wealthy family that owned a large company and she assured me that we could both have jobs. Just a few months pregnant and we were off on a new adventure (that’s what I called it), driving across the country again not even 2 years later. Geographic change was always my solution and this pattern of moving continued into the next decade of my life as well.

Shockingly, nothing I’d planned came to fruition in San Diego and we quickly ran out of money and time. With a baby arriving soon we needed stability and he desperately needed a job, so we broke the lease we had signed two months prior and moved to the desert to live with my parents that had just moved back from Hawaii. I had come full circle. It’s pretty amazing to think about the ground I’d covered in 4 short years since leaving my family home to go to college. Everything had turned out wildly different than I ever would have imagined. I had planned to go to college and graduate 4 years later. Instead I had dropped out of two schools, moved six times, got married and was soon having a baby. I had to swallow a lot of pride to walk back into my parent’s home. I am convinced that had it not been for the baby, I wouldn’t have mustered up the humility to ask for help. But I did and my parents welcomed us with open arms. My son Dominick was born August 1, 1995 just a few months after my 21st birthday. Nothing could have prepared me for how radically my life was going to change. The world no longer revolved around Amy, as I had a far greater concern and responsibility than just myself. There was endless love pouring out of me for this child though and I was determined to be a better parent than anyone had ever been. I was going to provide this child with a far more stable life than the one I’d created up to that point and it was time to get serious. Every time I held that baby I was even more motivated to get things moving in the right direction. Nothing mattered to me anymore except the safety, welfare and happiness of my son. He brought me infinite joy, even when nothing or no one could. (Even now, many years later, as I’m writing this I can feel my heart swell. There is truly no greater feeling in the world than that very first child. Dominick and I grew up together in many ways and I praise God everyday for him).

So on the outside things looked pretty good, but on the inside I was really struggling. Within a year of him being born, those old familiar feelings of restless, irritable and discontent had come back and were weighing heavily on my shoulders. I recall such tremendous feelings of guilt and confusion. Why did I feel like this when I had no real reason to? I should be content and happy with this precious child in my life, but instead felt worse as time went on and blamed my husband for everything. Thus the battle was back in session and this time nothing happened to change it. By the time Dominick was two, my husband had moved back to Texas and we had filed for divorce. I didn’t analyze what happened until many years later. I simply did what I had always done which was justify my behavior and find fault with everyone else but me. I always failed to see my part. I didn’t want to nor did I know how to. The only way I knew to function was in a complete state of denial. Many years later I learned just how cunning, baffling and powerful denial really is. But that is a story that comes much later....