Acting has its upsides

I always had a flair for the theatrical. I think it stems from how I was raised. My parents were not a happy couple. They fought often. I, being the youngest and Daddy's little girl, played the role of peace keeper. If I could get the focus off of them and onto me, they would stop yelling and the knot in my stomach would disappear. It was the same when my dad and sister would get into a confrontation. I would immediately act hurt, or excited over something to get the focus off of her and make the yelling stop. I was pretty good at what I did and it usually worked.

When my parents divorced I had to go into overdrive pretending things were great. My sister and I, while never close, had even more difficulties. Mom was working twelve hour days, Dad was living in an apartment ten minutes away, and it was pretty much just the two of us at the house after school. My mom was working at a job that short of me dying, I was not allowed to contact her. If I tried to tell her what was happening when she checked in, it always seemed to turn out to be my fault and I would be in trouble. I learned that silence and a forced smile were the best way to go.

I began spending more time at my dad's place, but he had such guilt following the divorce, that if I let on how much I was hurting, it devastated him. Early on I learned to suck it up and never let them see me hurt.

I got so good at it that I learned how to turn myself into whatever a person wanted. When I met my ex husband, I knew I had to be the perfect Christian wife and mother. It wasn't exactly a stretch for me. I had grown up in church and while not near as active as his family, it wasn't all that different than what I had done from childhood. I married him, we began our marriage with our faith strong and me portraying just the right kind of wife.

He was a good man. He deserved someone so much less damaged than myself. In time I found the mask slipping. I wasn't perfect. I didn't know how to cook even half as well as his mom. I sometimes found church boring and would much rather curl up on Sunday morning with a good book. Our marriage failed and I accept responsibility for it. I honestly don't think he knows what happened, but I do. I was damaged and simply couldn't hold on to the role any longer. He had never met the "real" Ange. He only knew the one I allowed him to see.

The real Ange could be selfish. She could forget to make dinner. She would rather eat out than make meatloaf from scratch. She hated baking with a passion. Her faith in God was strong, but her desire to be at church every moment the doors were open wasn't overpowering. She was the best mom she knew how to be, but she was far from perfect. That Ange won out and she left him.

I never imagined that there would be someone that accepted me for me and not for the role I played. I mean, who could possibly find this potty mouthed, ponytail, sweats wearing girl attractive? Surely I had to do all the normal things; wear cute dresses, put on some heels, curl my hair, spend half an hour getting my make up just so before anyone would even pay attention to me. And then you came along and made me rethink every single thing. You wouldn't let me be anyone other than the real me. If I started to take on a role, you called me out each and every time.

You know me inside and out in ways that no one else does. It has always been so easy with you. I laugh more, I cry less (oh, I still cry, but not like before), and I realize that just maybe I am good enough. You have seen me at my absolute ugliest and still looked at me like I was the most beautiful thing. As I have often said...with you, there are no walls.

No walls terrifies me. I laid bare my soul to you and got hurt. Yes, you got hurt as well and I don't discount what it cost you to walk away so long ago. As much as I like to pretend I am all hard ass now and reserved, you know better. Walls fall the minute I hear your voice. I find myself saying things my head is telling me not to say.

So, what brought all this on you might ask? Your very innocent question yesterday; "What do you really want?". I have spent all night and day trying to answer that in a manner that made sense. This is what I ended up with....a nonsensical look back on my life.

Nothing would have given me greater pleasure than to simply sit down and bullet all my wants in a nice neat little list. So not in my genetic makeup. I honestly can't answer that question right now, but here is what I can say...

I don't want to act any longer unless I am getting paid to do so. I don't want to pretend to be happy when I am really dying on the inside. I don't want to look at my beautiful children and smile and tell them it is okay when their dad is losing his shit. I don't want to be the raging person I become when their dad is losing his shit. I want to be able to hold my head high and tell the world...this is me. I am damaged. I am flawed. I am scared. I am often wrong, but I try my hardest each and every day. Some days I don't handle things well. I yell too much. I cry too often. I stress when noises get too loud. I hate crowds. People make me extremely nervous.

I am damaged and you deserve someone so much better, but I want you to say "to hell with it all...you are worth the fight". So there you have it...my heart and soul...you know what to do with it. Aren't you sorry you opened this can of worms? <3