Relationships are like Teabags

December 29, 2009

There is a knot in my stomach and it won’t go away.  Something is afoot. 

I fill my cup with steaming hot water and open the pantry to choose my tea.  The pantry is tidy, I have chosen my teas wisely and kept them organized.  I peruse the flavors – black, white, green, herbal, fruit infused, peppermint, decaf, caf, plain old Lipton.  Tea from China, tea from England, tea from South America.  Some have shiny wrappers and promise to do amazing things for my health.  Others are old and dusty, all the way at the back.  Still others are believed to contain traces of toxins, but the memory of their delicious flavor keeps them out of the trash.

It’s been a rough day so far, so I choose one of my favorites.  Its flavor is consistent and strong.

I dip the teabag and watch as the tea mixes with the hot water, making swirls and creating something soothing for me to drink.  I marvel at how relationships are a lot like teabags – you never know their true worth until they’ve been put through hot water.

Throughout the day, I need cup after cup of tea.  I line up the cups, amazed that just one teabag made almost every one.  It is even stronger than I ever imagined.  I am soothed, and grateful.

As I pass the pantry, a dusty teabag leaps from the shelf and into my hand.  I place it in the next cup of hot water, and it makes a beautiful cup of tea, full of nostalgic aroma.  I weep for having left it neglected for so long.

The day is hard, but my cups of tea see me through.  They ease the worry and the pain, and help me to see that tomorrow will be another day.  A fairly new and as-yet unopened package of tea falls to the floor at my feet, and as I put ot away in the pantry – sure it is not ready to be a cup of tea today, of all days – it gently places itself in my cup.  Again, tears fall as I drink the strong and stable tea.

My husband and I lay in the darkness, comparing the cups of tea we have consumed.  We don’t know what the days ahead will bring, but we find comfort in the fact that we are doing what is right for the one we love, whose life is spiraling out of control.

The sun shines through the window.  It’s a new day, the knot in its secure place in my stomach.  I walk into my office to find many cups of tea waiting for me, the bags having taken it upon themselves to come in from the pantry.  I smile, knowing I am loved, and hope the tea I make for others is even half as good.

I sit, and drink my tea.

Originally posted at The Sweet Life 1/30/2009 5:51 am


heartatpreschool (Kari) wrote:
Love this post, and the comparison of teas to relationships.

There is something so soothing about tea, moreso than any other hot drink. My thoughts are with you and your family.


An Open Letter to Blue Shield

December 29, 2009
Dear Blue Shield Underwriters,
First of all, let me say you should be grateful that I went to visit a friend before writing this letter.  The one I drafted while in the shower this morning called you assholes instead of underwriters.  Funny how a few laughs will change your attitude.

So, obviously, I received your letter.  The one telling me that after all those personal questions you asked me on a daily basis (for weeks, no, months) finally helped you make a decision on my request to have a lower rating for my health insurance.  The one where you told me that, instead of lowering my rating, you were actually raising it.  Because, apparently, I’m even more of a health risk than you originally realized. 

I mean, that mole I had removed, several years ago, because it was under my bra strap and irritated me?  In retrospect, I really shouldn’t have had my doctor take that off.  I can see why it’s too risky for you, because maybe I really had skin cancer but my doctor and I are covering our tracks with that whole ONE VISIT it took.  Next time, I’ll ask our veterinarian to lob off any annoying moles.  Or better yet, my husband has a pocket knife that would work perfectly.

And thank you for pointing out that I have a bicornuate uterus

.  WOW!  I really hadn’t realized.  I thought that whenever my doctor or midwife talked to me about it, they were really talking about someone else.  Bicornuate, who?
What do you mean, it doesn’t matter that I’m not requesting maternity coverage?  Even though we supplied you with letters from doctors and negative sperm count reports, you apparently think that I’m going to go ahead and get pregnant (I’m sure I can find some sperm, somewhere), pay for my high-risk pregnancy out of pocket (with all the cash I’ll have left in my account after paying you over $600 per month in health insurance), give birth to my baby (if the baby makes it to term) and then go ahead and hemorrhage

.  Just so I can laugh that evil “mwah ha ha ha” laugh I’ve been practicing, when Blue Shield gets stuck with THAT bill.  Yes, that was my plan.  Thank goodness you caught on to my little scheme.  It really could have cost ya!
Oh, right, and that cosmetic surgery I had done eight years ago.  Were you worried that suddenly Blue Shield would start covering cosmetic surgery and I was going to go nuts and get a new and improved rear end on your dime?  Obviously I’m just so frivolous about my body, getting that surgery done back when I was 22 and not having anything done since.  Yikes, talk about plastic!  Oh and by the way, maybe it might help if you asked why I had it done.  Just to gain a little perspective.

I find it interesting that not once has anyone requested that I take a physical, or asked questions about my weight, diet, exercise regimen, hygiene, dental habits, or about anything else that might give a clue about my actual health and well-being.  Instead, it’s all about things that really don’t pose a risk to Blue Shield at all.

Here’s a letter I would have respected:

Dear Andrea,
We really don’t want to insure you.  Instead of causing you discomfort by digging into your medical history repeatedly, and asking you to supply us with documents that are decades old (man, who knew you actually kept that stuff around, and in a place where you could find it so quickly?) we should have just let you know.  You are welcome to fork over a thousand dollars a month for us to insure your family, or you can just go with another option.  Sorry for wasting months of your time. 

Oh, and sorry we’re still having our staff call you and email you every day for more information!  We forgot to let them know we’d already come to a decision.

Blue Shield

But hey, Blue Shield Underwriters?   We’re small business owners, and I just finished filling out the paperwork for group coverage.  You’re going to cover me after all, and for a quarter of the cost! 

Who’s laughing now, bitches?  Mwah ha ha ha.



p.s. If you think I’m going to see the doctor over every little sniffle and make you pay for it, you’re damn right.  I’ve got nothing to lose.

Originally Posted at The Sweet Life 9/22/2008 10:52 am


  • 9/22/2008 11:31 AM Rightmyer Rants wrote:
    You go girl!!!
    Reply to this
  • 9/22/2008 11:46 AM natalie wrote:
    i wish i could say assholes on my blog. there are times when it is just so appropriate. oh well. one of these days i might just cut loose.
  • 9/22/2008 1:49 PM Burgh Baby wrote:
    Oh. my. hell. I think I should copy and paste this sucker and send it to UPMC in response to their craptacular insurance prices (been down the same path with them).Bravo! Bravo!
  • 9/22/2008 3:57 PM Christina wrote:
    This may just be the best post I have ever read! I wish I would have come up with something like this when I got the bill for my hysterectomy (the parts that Humana didn’t cover!)
  • 9/22/2008 4:00 PM Mike from the Newborn Identity wrote:
    Andrea,I totally could have written a letter very similar to that one! (Minus the cosmetic surgery part Our insurance, even though it is “good,” has co-pays for Maddie that will cost us like 5k this year. 5k!So yeah…I hate insurance companies too.
  • 9/22/2008 5:08 PM Mrs. Schmitty wrote:
    Andrea? You totally are my hero!
  • 9/22/2008 7:12 PM sweetcheese wrote:
    I LOVE LOVE LOVE that punchline! Screw you big dumb insurance corporation.
  • 9/23/2008 11:11 AM Angie wrote:
    Bravo! I’m doing battle with Blue Cross right now over their denying to pay for an appt last Christmas for my daughter’s treatment from an allergic reaction to antibiotics. They say it was a pre-existing condition. Huh? And how in the hell was I supposed to know that she was allergic? I mean, trust me, I wouldn’t have ruined all of our holidays with multiple phone calls and trips to the doctor if I had known ahead of time that she was going to have an allergic reaction to her medicine. Argh!! Stupid insurance companies!
  • 9/24/2008 7:34 AM LaskiGal wrote:
    Your situation officially ticked me off . . . but you getting them in the end . . . MADE MY FREAKIN’ day!!!Hopped over from BlogHer . . .
  • 9/24/2008 8:24 AM LiteralDan wrote:
    Go get ’em! Can you teach me how to do this? Because we are still stuck paying over $600 a month to BC/BS, just for the kids and me– my wife is totally covered by her employer (a school).The school has a horrible negotiating team for all benefits, I have found. Let’s just hope it doesn’t go up…
  • 9/24/2008 1:36 PM Andrea wrote:
    Okay, okay. I will now stop moaning about our insurance. It’s free. And crappy. But at least I don’t have to deal with stuff like that! Ugh.I hope it works out!

The Bikini Wax, Exposed

December 29, 2009
I’m a waxing kind of girl.  Don’t get me wrong, I’ve dappled in the other methods of bush maintenance. 
I’ve experienced the never-ending itch of stubble from shaving.  I’ve gone through stealing my husband’s clippers.  I’ve tweezed.  The depilatories have left their mark upon my nether regions.  But when it comes down to the nitty gritty, I’m all for making a phone call to the local Esthetician.

Yesterday, I had my first appointment with a new wax-lady.  Who is, of course, a lady who waxes, not a lady made of wax.  Because why would a Wax Lady require an appointment?

I’ve been through my fair share of wax-ladies over the last eight years, at many different salons.  Some of them have been great, and I was in mourning when they moved/went on permanent maternity leave/generally got tired of looking at beavers all day.  Others have not been so great – like the one who gave me a second degree burn during a brazilian wax and called me a big baby for saying it hurt.

So when I showed up at the new salon, I was a bit nervous.  The wax-lady was nice, but the room was small and instead of a spa table, there was what looked like a barber’s chair.  Which, if you think about the area of my body she was going to be waxing, poses a few questions as to my flexibility and comfort.

In addition, she’d only just graduated from waxing school.  Nervousness turned into full blown anxiety.

It took a little longer than usual, but she did a pretty good job.  Yesterday, my crotchal area was a bit swollen and red, (after all, hair had just been yanked out by the root with hot wax) but today?  I am one happy customer.

All hail the bikini wax:

Slightly expensive?  Yes.
Exposes cootch to stranger?  Yes.
Hurts like hell?  Yes.  But just for a second. 
Involves putting something very hot in a very sensitive area?  Yes.

Feeling extra sexy for my husband:  Totally worth it.

Originally Posted at The Sweet Life 9/17/2008 1:52 pm


  • 9/17/2008 3:51 PM Christina wrote:
    I have never quite had the nerve to let someone near my lady business with hot wax, but every time I end up with the little red bumps I reconsider…for just a moment.
  • 9/17/2008 7:30 PM MadWomanMeg wrote:
    Nevah nevah nevah. Not ever will I allow someone with burning hot wax close to my nethers. Screw that noise.
  • 9/17/2008 9:09 PM Mama Ginger Tree wrote:
    Amen sister. All hail the bikini wax.
  • 9/18/2008 9:38 PM Cindy wrote:
    Haha…you said “bush maintenance”! I love it!
  • 9/18/2008 11:07 PM LiteralDan wrote:
    You’re braver than I am– I wouldn’t have been willing to be the training subject for a recent graduate, as unfair as that may be.The downside (pun intended) is just way too big (double entendre realized and enjoyed).
  • 9/19/2008 8:00 PM mary wrote:
    LMAO! It hurts bad enough to get your eyebrows waxed, I don’t even want to imagine

Rock the Boat

December 29, 2009
I was the girl who got rocks thrown at her when she showed up at high school parties… because she just moved there and didn’t fit in.  The girl who dressed in her own way, had her own style, and always spoke her mind, regardless of what others might think. 
That girl got beat down, my friends.  With piles and piles of rocks.

As I got older, I learned not to make waves as a form of self-preservation.  I don’t handle confrontation well, and in fact it usually makes me physically ill.  I’ve learned to pick my battles, and in the mean time – I don’t rock the boat unless I have to.

However, as I wade through the current flood of political chatter, I find myself amazed at the number of people who will not accept another person’s point of view as just that: another person’s point of view.  The rocks are flying, and the young girl in me wants to step up for the “black sheep” who are receiving the brunt of the blows.

Attacking people for being different is just wrong.  And telling them that they are wrong because they are different is sending a host of other messages, realized or not.

If someone has come to an educated decision about their political beliefs, and is not afraid to stand up for them, why must people try to break that person into submission?  Would it be better for them to blindly follow the shepherd, not knowing if they are being led off the edge of a cliff?

Is it better to choose a candidate who resembles your own beliefs, or one that mirrors the beliefs of people who want to bully others into conforming?  And as people throw those proverbial rocks, do they truly believe that they are representing the best side of their candidate?

I have gained much respect for both liberals and conservatives who are able to debate issues with the respectful understanding that other people are entitled to have a different opinion.  That policies can be discussed without trying to force someone into changing their mind.  

As for the rock slingers, you’ve caused me to stand up and willingly rock the boat.

Originally Posted at The Sweet Life 9/14/2008 9:03 pm


  • 9/15/2008 4:51 AM AMomTwoBoys wrote:
    Great post! This election has brought out the best and worst in people. It’s been interesting and there are still 2 months left to go!Speaking personally, if someone tries to bully me into doing something, it just makes me more determined to do the opposite. :0)Thanks! You’re awesome.
  • 9/15/2008 8:25 AM sheasy wrote:
    I think something people can exercise no matter what their beliefs are is tolerance. It makes us human and not just a box of ideas walking around (like robots). Great post.
  • 9/15/2008 1:57 PM Cindy wrote:
    Great point. Very well said. Amen sista!
  • 9/15/2008 2:05 PM Mike fro the Newborn Identity wrote:
    The emails that float around are the most hateful. Watch out for those!9/15/2008 8:22 PM anymommy wrote:
    Well said! Disagreeing, even on huge issues, does not have to involve personal attacks or nastiness. The greatest thing about this country is that we are free to view things as we will and say what we want. I love discussions about the issues because I have so much to learn, but I hate ‘politics’ in general because things can get so nasty. I think you rocked the boat in a great way here!
  • 9/16/2008 4:20 PM Christina wrote:
    Well put, my friend. Well put!
    I am like you in the sense that confrontation makes me ill. It is something that I try to avoid at all costs unless I’m uber-passionate about the issue.
  • 9/16/2008 6:48 PM Kia wrote:
    amen, sista! i think they threw rocks in high school because you were pretty AND smart. too much competition. take this and go with it, my friend!

The Price of Silence

December 29, 2009
The sun glints off the tip of my scalpel as I prepare to make an incision.  I hesitate – is this really necessary?  A quick nod, and seconds later the sharp blade pierces the skin above my heart. 
I remove the slippery, pulsating organ and place it gently on a platter made of fine, polished silver.

“We need to talk,” I whisper, poking an aorta with my gloved finger.

My heart says nothing, just continues its rhythmic beating as if it were still encased in my chest.

I take a deep breath and begin the meticulous dissection of my warm heart.  They must be in there, somewhere.  The place that pounds when I see billows of smoke in the distance, even if it’s only visible when my eyes are closed.  The spot that squeezes when I see a pregnant woman, and I don’t even understand why.   The general area that leaps into my throat when I think my dark thoughts in the middle of a sunny day.  They must be silenced, for they won’t listen to reason.

My search is in vain.  All that sits upon the tray is bloody, cut up meat where a perfectly performing heart once was.  Disappointed, I place the mess back into the gaping hole in my rib cage, and close it with my needle and thread.

“I was afraid this might happen, ” I say quietly, and make my way to the bathroom.  I wash the scalpel, wipe it dry. 

My eyes travel upward with the arc of my hand.  A single drop of blood splashes on the counter top as I make the first of many cuts that will lead me to my brain.  It must be silenced, for it won’t listen to reason.

Originally Posted at The Sweet Life 9/4/2008 7:50 pm


  • 9/4/2008 9:16 PM jesse wrote:
    yeah now you’re speaking my language. im glad im not the only one with a darkside. but we must do our very best, every day, to keep those thoughts and feelings in check cause if the beast does get loose…..it’s hard to put back in the cage.
  • 9/5/2008 1:21 AM sheasy wrote:
    I like this. Excellent.
  • 9/5/2008 3:19 AM Black Hockey Jesus wrote:
    Yeah that’s nice. I love it when a narrator is doing wild stuff or wild stuff is happening and the writing is all nonchalant. That last line was a kicker too. That’s how you wanna go out.
  • 9/5/2008 12:13 PM anymommy wrote:
    If you find where those spots are, will you let me know so I just get straight to them. This was haunting and scary and true. I hope you’ve gotten past the worst now.I went back and read about your harrowing experience after your birth last year. Trauma like that isn’t banished easily. Keep writing about it!
  • 9/5/2008 2:25 PM Christina wrote:
    Beautiful! What a strong voice.
  • 9/6/2008 7:01 AM Mama Ginger Tree wrote:
    The more I learn about you, the more I am intrigued. Excellent writing.This is what I love about reading blogs. There is so much more to people than what you may see in their flicker photo stream.
  • 9/7/2008 4:26 PM Susan wrote:
    I get it. I really do. 

Kiss and Say Goodbye

December 29, 2009
I mentioned previously that my husband lost his Father at a very early age.

What I didn’t tell you is that his father committed suicide.

One day, he just didn’t feel like living anymore.

He and his wife, my husband’s Mother, had split up and filed for divorce.

They talked about reconciling.  But it didn’t happen.

Two days before he died, he bought a single track record by the Manhattans, entitled, “Kiss and Say Goodbye”.  He listened to it over, and over, and over.

I have this record in my possession.  I fondle it sometimes, and I wonder. 

I wonder what life would be like if he’d pulled himself through.  If he’d just gotten past that difficult time in his life and decided to stick around for the two little boys he left behind.  I wonder what kind of man he would have grown into.  I wonder what kind of Father he would have been.

I’ve never listened to the record, and neither has my husband.  We just can’t. 

We can’t.  Because it’s been so many years, and life…. well, life has to go on.

Here are the lyrics to that song.  While I don’t know the melody that accompanies them, they haunt me.

At the same time, I’m so glad he took a moment to say good-bye.

Manhattans – Kiss And Say Goodbye Lyrics
Album: Best Of-Kiss & Say Goodbye

This has got to be the saddest day of my life
I called you here today for a bit of bad news
I won’t be able to see you anymore
Because of my obligations, and the ties that you have
We’ve been meeting here everyday
And since this is our last day together
I wanna hold you just one more time
When you turn and walk away, don’t look back
I wanna remember you just like this
Let’s just kiss and say goodbye

I had to meet you here today
There’s just so many things to say
Please don’t stop me ’til I’m through
This is something I hate to do
We’ve been meeting here so long
I guess what we’ve done, oh was wrong
Please darlin’, don’t you cry
Let’s just kiss and say goodbye (Goodbye!)

Many months have passed us by
(I’m gonna miss you)
I’m gonna miss you, I can’t lie
(I’m gonna miss you)
I’ve got ties, and so do you
I just think this is the thing to do
It’s gonna hurt me, I can’t lie
Maybe you’ll meet, you’ll meet another guy
Understand me, won’t you try, try, try, try, try, try, try
Let’s just kiss and say goodbye (Goodbye!)

(I’m gonna miss you)
I’m gonna miss you, I can’t lie
(I’m gonna miss you)
Understand me, won’t you try
(I’m gonna miss you)
It’s gonna hurt me, I can’t lie
(I’m gonna miss you)
Take my handkerchief and wipe your eyes
(I’m gonna miss you)
Maybe you’ll find, you’ll find another guy
(I’m gonna miss you)
Let’s kiss and say goodbye, pretty baby
(I’m gonna miss you)
Please, don’t you cry
(I’m gonna miss you)
Understand me, won’t you try
(I’m gonna miss you)
Let’s just kiss and say goodbye

Good-bye, Wayne.  Your son has grown into such a wonderful man.  You would be proud.

Originally Posted on The Sweet Life 6/26/2009 10:01 pm


  • 6/26/2009 10:23 PM Kirsten wrote:
    Wow. I lost my dad at a young age too. I don’t think you ever get over it. But life moves forward and you always wonder.
  • 6/26/2009 11:33 PM Maura wrote:
    Wow indeed. I wasn’t as young when I lost mine, but I know about losing a dad under difficult circumstances like that.
  • 6/27/2009 12:39 AM Marinka wrote:
    How sad and awful. I’m very sorry.
  • 6/27/2009 6:56 AM Debby Pucci wrote:
    I’m glad your husband had support from others and turned into such a loving husband and father.
  • 6/27/2009 8:00 AM Headless Mom wrote:
    Really tough. I’m sorry that he (and you!) have had to go through this.
  • 6/27/2009 10:58 AM Marla wrote:
    Wow. That is a very haunting song. My biological father died before I was born of a freak heart issue (he was 21). My mom remarried and I have been blessed with an amazing father. I sometimes wonder what would have happened if he would have lived.
  • 6/28/2009 9:52 AM jessica wrote:
    I know two people whose parents killed themselves. One of them will never ever be the same. It’s so incredibly sad to hear that people find life so unbearable that they have end their own.
  • 7/2/2009 8:25 AM Sara wrote:
    my father committed suicide when i was 15. its been 13 years and i still think about it every single day. then when i was 20, i broke up with my boyfriend at the time and the next day he committed suicide. i think about that everyday too.i wonder how different life would be if things had gone differently. i wonder what they would be doing. i wonder what i would have done if i didn’t have to deal with that.

    when i was in my hometown to i took my baby to my father’s gravesite. and i cried because they would never meet. i cried because my father would never be the grandfather he was supposed to be. and i wondered how the hell i was going to explain it to my son when he was older and asked where mommy’s daddy was.

  • 7/20/2009 1:56 PM charlotte wrote:
    I just barely skimmed that and just coudln’t bring myself to read it. How horribly tragic. I am very close to my father, I could not imagine. Just a reminder to people that depression kills.
  • h1

    Bad Boys

    December 29, 2009
    In my teens, I liked the Bad Boys.  I know I’m not alone – there’s a reason people say that nice guys finish last.  I was always drawn to them, not because I wanted to be bad myself, but because I wanted to fix them.  I would look for the good parts of their characters and try to draw that part of them out.  I was a champion of the underdog.

    One of my Bad Boys hung out with people who were much, much worse than him.  Dangerous People from his neighborhood.  He was a saint in comparison to these people, although, looking back, not all of them were bad all the way to the bone.  Knowing some of the things they’d done, I should have run away and never looked back.  But at the time, being young and stupid naive, I let myself be charmed by the good parts of these people.  Especially because, in front of me, they were never doing anything out of the ordinary. 

    One of them in particular grew attached to me in a way my Bad Boy found inappropriate.  But as he was always going on and on about his ex-girlfriend right in front of me, I decided to poke his jealousy into an open flame and see what happened.

    I never claimed to have common sense, people.  Forgive me my youth.

    Two things happened: one, my Bad Boy bowed out of the race in fear; and two, I found myself in quite a predicament.  You can’t USE people to make your Bad Boy jealous and not expect someone to get upset.  I stupidly allowed a Dangerous Person to become attached to me, and how the hell does a 16 year old tell someone like that, “Never mind, just kidding!  See ya later, ‘gator!”

    I tried to gently extract myself from the situation, and I must say: it could have been worse.  Far worse.  But it was bad enough, especially for someone as young and stupid naive as myself.  Instead of punishing me, he gave me a subtle warning before letting me walk out of his life.

    He asked me to do him a favor.  He wanted me to go to our local community college and remove one of the many fliers posted up there for a missing person, and bring it back to him.  When I did, he told me to look at the picture as he told me a story.  A story of a young man who owed another person, a Dangerous Person, some money.  How he didn’t pay, and the Dangerous Person was forced to take action, even though he’d known the young man from childhood and considered him a friend.  He said loyalty was everything, and those who were disloyal had to pay for their transgressions.

    He told me every last detail about how this young man’s face came to be posted on fliers all over our town.  Then he smiled, gave me a hug, and told me he’d miss my company.  Told me he’d be checking on me from time to time, making sure I was doing well.  Named my family members, one by one, and said he wished them nothing but the best.

    The day I graduated from High School, there was a message on my answering machine.  I heard his voice say, “Hey beautiful, I just wanted to say congratulations.  I know you’ll go far, but don’t forget where you came from.”

    Four years later, I opened the newspaper and saw his face on the front page.  He was being put on trial for murdering two people.  His eyes seemed to bore right through the page, warning me.  Reminding me of what he was capable of doing, even to people he cared about.

    He was behind bars, where he belonged, but would he stay there?  My heart was on fire, thinking about the people he killed – because there was no doubt in my mind that he was guilty as charged.  If I had been brave enough 5 years prior, would those people still be alive?  I couldn’t bear to live with that kind of guilt.

    So I met with an investigator from the police department.  I volunteered the information I had on that Cold Case, and they were able to fill in many of the blanks they’d had.  They told me that if the current trial didn’t result in a guilty verdict, they would arrest him for the old murder and I would be their star witness.  If nothing else, that young man’s mother would finally know what happened to her son.

    The investigator for the two murders he was on trial for interviewed me, as well.  He asked if I’d be willing to take the stand as a character witness, to refute the glowing testimonies of his family and friends. 

    Would I be willing to sit in a court room, with him staring at me with hatred, his family sitting in the rows behind him?  It was one thing to talk to an investigator, but talking about it in open court was a completely different matter. 

    I talked to my parents about the risk.  I talked to Jeremy, my boyfriend of one year at the time (now my husband of many years), about the danger.  I weighed my options.

    And then I did The Right Thing.  I said yes, without fear of the future, because I couldn’t live with myself if he ever killed another person.

    They ended up not calling me as a witness since he didn’t take the stand in his own defense, so I got to sit in on the last week of the trial.  That first day, my stomach was in knots as I walked in and sat on the prosecution’s side next to the investigator.  I waited with baited breath for him to look back and notice me.

    Fortunately, I wasn’t looking when that happened, but the investigator was.  Apparently, he did a double take and then leaned over to his attorney, looking worried.  Once he found out I wasn’t on the witness list, though, he seemed to relax.

    At the next court recess, as they led him out in shackles, he looked at me and smiled.  I couldn’t even look away, because my blood had run cold, and I was frozen solid.  He winked at me, and walked out of the court room.

    I am happy to say, I sat through the rest of the trial, which ended in a guilty verdict, with my head held high.  He may have been able to intimidate a 16 year old girl, but not this woman. 

    Not this woman who has made it a point in her life to Do What’s Right.  In his attempt to silence me, to teach me about fear and loyalty at all costs, he taught me to look inside myself and find my own strength. 

    I crushed his wicked smile beneath my shoe, and walked away a better person.

    Originally Posted at The Sweet Life 2/27/2009 12:38 pm


  • 2/27/2009 2:28 PM natalie wrote:
    good for you! i think it was good for him to know you were there. he might not have been sweating on the outside, but i bet he was on the inside!
  • 2/27/2009 9:24 PM Kirsten/Mama Ginger Tree wrote:
    Wow. That’s quite a story. I was scared for you while reading it. Good for you for doing the right thing.
  • 2/27/2009 9:45 PM anymommy wrote:
    What an awful, frightening story. You are a brave woman. He sounds like a true sociopath, I’m so glad he’s behind bars and so glad that you found out that you are stronger than he imagined.
  • 2/27/2009 9:50 PM Sophie, Inzaburbs wrote:
    I don’t know that I could have been that brave. You really asserted yourself there. That’s something to be very proud of.
  • 2/28/2009 11:38 AM Jill Watkins wrote:
    Way to go! I have some bad boys and dangerous boys in my past and I don’t know if I would be brave enough to do that right thing like you did. I am really impressed with you and proud to consider you a friend ( even tho we have never met!)jill.watkins@gmail.com
  • 2/28/2009 3:25 PM feener wrote:
    wow, wow, wow, good for you
  • 3/1/2009 12:57 PM LiteralDan wrote:
    I just wanted to write that this was a very well written story, in addition to the subject matter being impressive. Great job on both counts!
  • 3/2/2009 8:03 AM Headless Mom wrote:
    Wow! What a story. Good for you.
  • 3/3/2009 6:31 AM Sarah, Goon Squad Sarah wrote:
    I always had a thing for bad boys too. I guess I got lucky because I never ended up in a situation anything like yours.Mine always turned out to be nice guys.

    It was always the clean cut boys I dated that turned out to be real sleaze bags.

    Go figure.

  • 3/5/2009 4:30 PM kia wrote:
    Wow. This reads like an episode of 48 Hours or Dateline. Scary stuff. I’m so glad he’s where he belongs and you’re safe. Wow.