AUTHOR: Sara TITLE: Normal DATE: 1/17/2005 07:09:00 PM ----- BODY:

The Story of T I married T when I was 21 years old. We were what some call "high school sweethearts", although we went to two different schools. We began dating when I was 17, so marriage seemed to be the next step we were supposed to take, or at least, that is what I thought at the time. Co-dependency struck me early, even before T. My parents divorced when I was 13 and I think I was plain lonely. I dated a great guy who ironically has the same name as my current husband. I don't know if we paint a prettier picture of someone after they are dead or not, but I thought he was swell. :-) He was a year older and 15 years wiser and we spent our spare time reading every meaningful text we could get our hands on while listening to U2 and making love like we knew what we were doing. My sweet Mike died in his sleep of a genetic disorder called cardiomyopathy. His heart, the coroner told us at the time, was nearly twice its normal size. It was truly only a matter of time and he said Mike would have known, experiencing pain or other symptoms. I truly believe he knew, but he wanted to live every moment he could without addressing the issue. Life without parameters. I met T shortly thereafter through Mike's childhood friend. T made me feel like no one else did, that I was not a stupid, childish teenager mourning a boyfriend, that I was a real person with intense feelings about many things. T, although uninterested in the academic, intellectual topics I was, simply filled a void that was growing in my life when Mike left. And I let him. He thought I was beautiful. T and I moved in together right after high school and I began college. The problems began then, although they were always there, festering beneath the surface of an already unstable foundation. T had an "issue" that he disclosed to me when I was 18 years old and I never thought about the reprecussions it would have in my life later. I was so accepting and carefree, who would have thought? His issue haunted his sleep, made him grow angry at himself and at his parents for who he "was", made him do the only thing that made it all better. He began to drink. I turned my head. I forgave the lies, I forgave the times he wrecked our car or spent our savings or arrived 12 hours late. I forgave the tickets and the bar fights and the bad decisions. I forgave him because I thought that was I was supposed to do, being I did love him. It took me years, though, to realize the person I needed to start forgiving was myself. It is funny, when you look back and things go in slow motion sometimes. I remember feeling the dread of my life and my relationship, of wanting children so, so badly, but knowing that I would be a fool to have them with his man I shared a bed with. It happened so quickly, a Dateline show catching my attention and I became entranced, knowing that the show was really about me and T, although it was another couple in California. Except they had a child together. And now the child was suffering their poor decision making, all because of the husband's "issue". If you have ever seen a movie called "Normal" on HBO, a wonderful, painfully sad movie, that was my life. (minus the children and plus a little substance abuse on his part, of course.) Except I just couldn't do it. I couldn't sell myself short for a life I could not live. When I made my decision, I began planning my route out of that life and into a new one. It was then that he told me that he wanted to confront his issue head-on and that children were never going to come into this marriage. It was the last piece that helped me make my decision. I left T on December 7, 2001, my mother's 51st birthday, and I moved back home. It took me eight months to regain my self-worth, rid myself of my co-dependency, and live alone. And I learned to love it, never having lived alone before. And on one of my warrior weekends I had with the girls for many months afterwards, I met Michael. And here we are. We love each other, have faith in each other, and meet each other's intellectual needs. We talk, laugh, tickle, poke fun at, respect, and nuture one another. We also wander into the empty bedroom in our new home, the room meant for our child. When the sun comes in those windows on Sunday mornings, we stand in it and close our eyes and smile. And we wait.

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