It all started when I first saw The Girls Next Door. I was introduced to a life of fluffy-white-cloud bubble-gum-pink rainbows-and-unicorns. It was a life of luxury and mindless care. It was about flaunting beauty, fun, youth and sex. There was no want for money, but its exploitation was mildly minimized as well. Anything these girls desired was readily available with the butterfly flutter of a kohl rimmed eyelash or the "oops!" of an itty-bitty-bikini spill. But a genuine kindness of heart was represented frequently and abundantly as well. I watched three busty-bleached-blonde babes frolic and flounce amidst the backdrop of old Hollywood and soft-core porn. Initially I was not sure if they offended my feminine sensibilities or embraced them. They would literally bounce around up-and-down in a circle topless, squealing and giggling and holding hands. But eventually I became enraptured...fell in love! When I was terribly ill and disabled I began to anticipate each episode as some sort of blissful release. Release from the pain that was eternally shock-waving through my body. Release from mounting money problems and mounds of medical bills. A break from a union of hopefulness gone softly awry. Each day was a struggle just to exist in my real world, but the message Holly, Bridget and Kendra were selling was not lost on me. Life is for the taking, and for those who dare to step up and take it. The young, the beautiful, the passionate, those that expect risk and opportunity to come at them hand in hand. They also reminded me to get up off my ass and put some makeup on and fix myself up every day. Its as if there was some secret message shrouded yet embedded like the monthly caricature, reminding me that when you look good it is much easier to feel good.
Then I started "Keeping Up With The Kardashians" on a regular basis and was given a glimpse into celebutante sibling-hood unlike any I had ever even known to wish for. I saw live-or-die friendships blended among the family drama and ludicrous antics. I saw a slice of nuclear relationship that was foreign to me, and I felt all warm and fuzzy inside as Kim would guide Kourtney through some over-indulged spoiled rich-girl trauma or another. I watched the makeup/breakup dynamic the 3 sisters shared, and the meddling in each others lives, the closeness I saw in a family steeped in unconditional love.
And I realized I wanted nothing to do with sad, painful, heartbreaking or devastating anymore in my life. I had had enough. I wanted only the happy and light of heart. I would attract and give off only positive energy, good energy. I have experienced physical pain beyond what most ever will know. Pain that caused me immeasurable emotional anguish and cost me 5 of my prime years, my child-bearing years, my career-building years. Years 28 to 33. I had given up enough already, and whatever I was left with at the end of the hurricane-tornado-earthquake of Fibromyalgia, I was going to hold onto with all my might and race to the other end of the rainbow with. So take your emotionally traumatic movies and books and stories. Take those stirring and haunting and moving tales of loss and near-redemption. Take the victims and broken-hearts and tragic glimpses into the other side. Take them all. I don't want them. I have been there, and I am never going back.
Thanks for joining,
Leah
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