One weekend, one of my ex-boyfriend’s mother was getting married, so I asked James to go with me. I guess I could now call him my lover, because we lived together and had a sexual relationship. Throughout my life, I had many sexual relationships, but somehow this one was different. For one thing, we waited about two months before we ever made love. That was definitely a record for both of us. But we wanted it to be special, so we waited. When we finally did make love, it was beautiful. Anyway we went to this wedding together, which was the most unique wedding. It was outside on top of a cliff looking over the water, and the entire wedding party (except for the bride) wore shorts and was barefooted. And the reception was in a bar on the water, set on a dock. It was such a beautiful atmosphere. James and I took a walk down the dock, looking over the water and just enjoying each other’s company. We were talking, and the next thing I knew he took out a ring of mine he had secretly acquired. Then he took that ring and he said he couldn’t imagine spending the rest of his life without me and he asked me to marry him.
We began a journey of a lifetime on that dock. We started planning our wedding, and it was going to be beautiful. The wedding would be held at a beautiful garden in a gazebo. It was stressful, but it was done - the plans were final. One day he and I went to the garden to plan and organize how the ceremony would go and to take lots of pictures. We had a wonderful day, dreaming of our wedding. And at this very serene moment with joy, he knelt down on one knee and proposed to me again, this time he had the most beautiful ring in his quivering hand. Boy was I amazed to see this thing sparkling in the sunlight; it was gorgeous. I guess at that time I really believed this wedding thing was going to happen. This was October of 1990 and our wedding day was to be July 27, 1991. We continued to make the plans for this blessed day. As a matter of fact, the only thing left was to order the flowers. I figured that could wait until we got back from California.
Off we went to Northern California. It was an exciting adventure, but I was so worried about my mom. I couldn’t stop thinking about her lying in bed, so I called her every day-just to hear her weak, frail voice. On the outside you would think I was in 7th heaven with not a care in the world, but on the inside I was a bundle of nerves. I was so worried about my mom that I couldn’t even think straight to the point that one night I was laying in bed, and I couldn’t breathe. I thought I was having a heart attack. James took me to the hospital and had my heart tested. The doctor said that my heart was fine, but he couldn’t figure out why I couldn’t breathe, so he asked me questions about my life. Of course, I had quite a history, but this was current anxiety. And that is exactly what was going on—an anxiety attack due to my mom dying at home. Even though no one was certain about her dying, I knew in my heart that she was.
I was right because soon after this attack of mine, the inevitable happened. My mother was rushed to the hospital again with heart failure and this time she had only 13% heart capacity left. I’ll never forget the phone call. My dad called and said, “Rhonda, your mother is in the hospital again, she has had heart failure and she is not going to make it. You need to come home right now, and I hope she hangs on until you get here.” These words rung in my ears like a cymbal. I immediately lost it. I just broke down into hysterics. All the thoughts that had been in my head and all the worrying that I had done was really coming true. I felt like a basket case. I called my friend back home and told her what was going on and asked her to pick me up from the airport. I got on the first flight out of there. James couldn’t come because he had to work, but I could tell he felt so bad for me. When I arrived at the hospital my mom was lying in a hospital bed in the Critical Care Unit (CCU). She was hooked up to all kinds of tubes with monitors, and I can’t even count how many nurses were taking care of her. It was so hard to see her like that; she was so helpless.
The rest of my family were all handling this in their own way. For instance my Dad and my brother would just sit at home, when not in the hospital, and they would get so sloppily drunk and try to make themselves believe that mom was coming home. And my sister, well, she bailed. She would just walk away and not say anything. She just wouldn’t deal with it. Then there was me; all alone and knowing that my mom was going to die. I went to AA meetings and cried. And all I would hear is “everything happens for a reason.” Well that was the last thing I wanted to hear, so I didn’t go anymore. I just kept going to the hospital and seeing my poor pathetic mother dying. I would call up James in California, and he would comfort me. I felt so alone and abandoned. I felt like I was the only one that was being realistic. It was crazy. They were crazy. My dad and brother felt that if they could convince my mom that she was coming home, then she wouldn’t give up. But the doctors told us that she was dying and that she wouldn’t be coming home. And then my dad would talk about my wedding plans, and my mom finally spoke up and said that she didn’t think that she would be there for the wedding.
I knew it was time to make amends with her. You see she and I had never had any intimate talks and this would be our first. So one day, when my sister and I were in her hospital room she said to each of us, “I’m sorry if I have ever done anything to hurt you.” For me, these were the words that I had waited all my life to hear. And for my sister, well she tried to let her off the hook. But for me, this was what I craved. “I’m sorry” meant everything to me. I also told her that I was sorry if I have ever hurt her. We both had the freedom of forgiveness. It was incredible. I cherish those words of hers. She needed to be free from the bondage of her mistakes, and I needed to be free from the bondage of resenting her.
One day, it was my shift to take care of her. We all took shifts so that she would never, not even for a moment, be alone. I woke up and I knew, for some reason I knew, this was going to be the day. I got on my knees, and I prayed to the God who was my higher power, and I asked him to take her quickly. She had suffered enough, and it was time for her to rest. The next thing I knew, I got a phone call, and I was told, “your mother has passed away.” It was December 1, 1990. I was so sad, but I had joy for her, for some reason.
I walked into the hospital and a friend of mine who worked there, took me arm in arm to her room to say good-bye. She was lying there so peacefully, but so pale. She was an empty shell. I could tell that she had no soul; she was completely lifeless. I just felt so sad, and I started to wonder, now what happens to her? Where does she go? What does she do? I started having so many questions about the after life. My mind was just so curious. All I could think of was, “Does she go to heaven or what, and where is this place, what’s it all about?” This opened up the door of a different kind of spiritual faith that I was afraid of, but anxious to know. My mind was in a whirlwind. My mom had just died, but I could only think of where she might have gone. Maybe this was a way of dealing with her death, or maybe this was a new chapter of life - real, true, eternal life. A friend of my mom’s had given me a book. I began to read it in the hopes of finding out where my mom went after she died. But instead it opened up my mind and heart to spiritual knowledge about Jesus Christ, whom I had no desire to learn about or know. As a matter of fact, I usually cringed when I heard His name in the AA rooms. When someone would say I’d like to thank my Lord and Savior Jesus Christ, I would just cringe. I hated Him. But for some reason, when I read that book that my mom’s friend gave to me, and when it mentioned that name, I didn’t cringe for the first time in my life, and my heart began to accept it. But I still had my higher power and I wasn’t ready to rock my foundation yet.
The funeral arrangements were made and it was a very sad, confusing, unsettling time. I actually felt the pain of losing my mom. There was no escape that could take away this pain that was so devastating. A few weeks after the funeral, James came home. It was Christmas and it was a very solemn one. The one thing I had to look forward to would be my future husband coming home. You see he couldn’t be here to comfort me during mom’s last days, but we talked on the phone almost every day.
During one of our conversations on the very day that she died, I told him that I didn’t want to have our wedding in Maryland anymore. I felt that I just couldn’t handle all my mom’s friend’s being there, but not her. So he agreed with me, and we decided to get married that very next month in California. Now I was fine with eloping in Vegas or Reno or something like that, but he wanted it to be really special. So I said, “I have now, in my life, planned two weddings that haven’t happened yet - the first didn’t happen because he left me, and the other I canceled because of my mom dying. So if you want a special wedding, you’re going to have to plan it. You just tell me when and where and I’ll show up.” He took me up on it and planned the entire thing. He got in touch with my friends Tiffani and Rachel in Los Angeles, the ones I lived with before I moved back home. Together, they planned the most beautiful, fairytale wedding. I could never have even come close to the class and ambiance they captured. It was a dream wedding; of course I had no idea what was planned, I just knew that it was going to happen on January 26, 1991, and it would be at 4:00 p.m.
After James came back from California for Christmas, we started making plans to go back again. He had about two more months left on his contract. We arrived in Northern California-except this time it wasn’t sunny California; instead it was a rainy, foggy and somewhat cold California. This time I had nothing to do. I would sit in my hotel room while James was at work, and I would just dream of what this mystery wedding was going to be. Of course I tried to get him to tell me, but there was no way. I just had to wait patiently for the day to come, (definitely not my strong point). I am not a patient person. I drove him crazy with questions and possible scenarios, but he was faithful not to tell.
During this pre-wedding time, we had some really great times. We went to Lake Tahoe and had a blast. As a matter of fact, I played the slots and won $1,600. It was such a needed gift at that time. We had our ups and downs as does every couple, but we had one problem that had started to develop right after we came back to California. You see, he was the only person, in my life that I made a lifetime commitment to. There was the ex fiancée, but that was more of a needy thing than true love and commitment.
But with James, this was the real thing, real intimacy, not just the pornographic performances in bed. This was forever! It was so scary, to the point where I was terrified of intimacy. Our wonderful fantasy sex life turned to real lovemaking, and that freaked me out. I mean, I could have sex and do all things that come with it, as long as it was on a superficial level. But marriage was heavy, and I just freaked out.
Two weeks before the wedding, while together in bed, I had a flashback of sexual abuse from my past. I told him that I was terrified of him touching me, and I didn’t know how long it would take to get through it. I said that I would do everything that I could to work through it, but it could take literally years. I really didn’t know. I knew I had a long journey ahead of me. He said that it was ok, and that he understood. I took him on his word. It got to the point that every time he touched me intimately, I would cringe and push him away. Now remember, this was two weeks before our wedding, and I couldn’t control this fear that completely took over me. It felt like I was being violated, but not by him, but by the many who had violated me in the past. This was really bad timing for all this pain, fear and anxiety to happen. So I told him that I honestly didn’t know what to do. All I knew is that every time he touched me, I completely freaked out. I told him that if he wanted to call off the wedding I would totally understand. I kept telling him that it could literally be years before we could make love again. Now either God deafened his ears to those words, or he was in denial. Either way he wanted to go through with our plans.
We decided that when we got back home we would find a therapist to help me. Our intimately distant relationship began that night. As with any traumatic experience, you have to go through the times where it gets worse before it gets better, and it definitely did get worse. Each night leading up to our wedding was so scary for me. I mean I knew that I could trust him, but I started sleeping with a nightshirt and under clothes. I just needed to feel safe. Every night I laid there wondering when he was going to touch me and how could I avoid it. Our hotel room was an efficiency suite, so it wasn’t like I could go into another room. But I did use the “I’ve always wanted to see this on tv,” excuse every single night. He woke up very early so I knew he wouldn’t stay up too late. I could usually get out of the intimacy thing during the week. Weekends, well, they were tough. He probably thought that I was just nervous about the wedding and that I was just losing it a little, you know pre-wedding jitters, or maybe it was PMS. He didn’t have a clue, and I really didn’t either. All I knew was that I was terrified of intimacy, and I didn’t have any idea why I thought I was going crazy.
All this was disconcerting because I knew how to please a man and yet I couldn’t even get close to him in that way. And the poor guy was used to me being very active and uninhibited. We used to have a great time and then all of a sudden, it seemed like out of the blue, it was over. I could not do any foreplay, because I would have flashbacks, not necessarily visual flashbacks, but bodily flashbacks.