Not always rainbows and butterflies, but she chooses to FLY

“How did I end up on a plane again?” I ask myself. The airport has become another great lover of mine; the world and airports. Maybe just maybe that is why was never meant to work out, because I was already in love with someone else, or something else. He once said “I feel like I am in a constant competition with the world, to have you”…he lost. Mother Nature always wins.  Everything was not always rainbows and sunshine, like in every great story it never is.

I arrived at the house I grew up in a little after 2:00am. I called my mother “let me in” I said in a monotone voice, that I didn’t recognize nor did she. I was straight faced with my gaze to the ground when she opened the door. I stopped looking in her eyes a few weeks earlier; perhaps I thought she could see the truth of what was happening or the shame, guilt and utter exhaustion of my relationship. She asked me if I was on drugs and I shook my head slowly “No”.  My usual witty, outgoing demeanor changed into a quiet, withdrawn girl who didn’t recognize herself in the mirror. I thought it was adjusting back to life in America, but it had been eight months, my wedding invitations were sitting on the table and were about to be sent out to family and friends. My email in box was filled with dress payments, flower and menu proposals and registries. I was overwhelmed and anxiety flooded my mind. My best friend said I looked horrible “I lost my Krysta glow”. I hadn’t eaten in months, I wasn’t hungry. I stepped on the scale at my mothers home that night and 99 pounds blinked on the scale.

My mom hand fed me soup but I refused to eat it, I hadn’t finished a meal in weeks. “I left him, I left him for good” I said, but I was to exhausted to speak.  I fell into a dark restless sleep that was my reality.

When the morning sun painted colors on my face, a chill ran through my body. I was not in my apartment I shared with my fiancé, and previous night’s events ran through my mind, I felt the urge to vomit with nausea. I knew in my heart that I was never going back, this was it the last straw. It was the last of many wars fought between my ex fiancé and this time was different. I was strong in my decision and the previous night he dared to become physical and threaten me, our apartment security guard knocked on the door. In a drunken stupor he locked me in our bedroom with power tools to dissemble the lock, I backed my things in my backpack (the one that went around the world with me) I calmly figured a way out and stepped out of the apartment not looking back while he shouted profanities at me.

I can not say that I was perfect nor did I do everything right in the relationship, because then I would be lying to your face and it’s only our second date J

 I made plenty of mistakes that I can only learn from. What is done is done I have heard. I was not in a relationship where he beat me or physically abused me; I was too strong to let it become that. But, there was baggage that was never checked at the door. We spent a year apart while I lived out my dream to travel, while he wanted to get married and buy a house for me and our future. I was never ready to come home, and play housewife. I was horrible at it and once while doing our laundry all of the white clothes turned hot pink. I cried, he laughed, then I laughed, and we made love on the floor because we had no furniture. It wasn’t all bad, but neither of us was ready to tell the truth or face the reality that this was not meant to be.

I was safe now, in my childhood home with my family. Within a few weeks I began to heal, each day I found a piece of myself that went missing like when you find a missing sock that the dryer happened to eat again. I enjoyed life; I ate meals with my family, started painting again and spent my time with people who love me. I healed fast and felt a huge relief. I didn’t cry, I don’t miss him…perhaps I miss what could have been but I never looked back. I relish in the idea of what we were or what I was suppose to be doing as a twenty four year old woman. He made it easy, I did not have to work and he had the money for us to live comfortably. I paid for nothing. People in my life thought I would be a reck, a human disaster my own worst enemy, I was just the opposite. I think I was finally free and started to feel like myself again, it got to a point where I knew it was over a long time ago.

One afternoon I came home from my D.C teaching job and he had to carry me home from the metro, I was to weak to walk to easy four minute treck, before I was an avid runner with a strong muscular body made to move. Now, my hip bones protruded from my body and I could not sit for long because my tail bone would become numb. I fell asleep that day, with the snack he made me untouched and he woke me up for dinner I could not move. Enough was Enough, I was shaken awake by an angel or my inner voice that said “this is not right, you were made for greatness, heal yourself and move on”.     And I did.

Time heals all things however, I did not need the hands on the clock…I healed; and some may even say that my healing clock consisted in short hours. I sang, danced, drank and met new people. The worst part was walking on the thin balance beam far from land wondering what the right choice for my life was. Finally, I arrived safely from the clouds on land while my family and friends lent me their parachutes just in case I wavered on any decisions. But, I still wasn’t cured of my eating problems, I was deathly afraid of getting fat.

I dated. I met two men and dated them both for different reasons. One was stable and solid and one was young and inexperienced. They both told me they loved me within two months. I think I loved them both a little bit.

One man or boy/man is 20 years old and attends the school where I worked in D.C. I taught ESL in an intensive adult program, dating between students and teacher is like a wild fire. He is from a small country south of Russia and very different from any other man I have ever met. He speaks three languages with English being his third, he is interesting and I actually would talk about him to my ex fiancé.  His culture is similar to Arabic culture, where the men come first and the women are submissive, what he said was expected to go. I knew he was all wrong from the start wrong in the best kind of way, he was considered my student even though he was in the class next to mine. He used to come into my classroom in the morning and just talk to me. I remember the first time we saw each other, he looked at me and I was preparing for the day’s lesson…my heart raced as he looked at me and came into my room and sat down.

 “Hey, you are a new teacher, and I am in your class” he said. I said “well, I am happy to have you here, I’m Mrs. Moore or you can call me Krysta.” “I am not in your class, but I wanted to talk to you I wish I was in your class…Bonnie, how do I get in this class?” He asks my supervisor and she says all the boys are asking how they get into my class we laugh and she compliments my six inch high heel purple boots.

 He is fit and tall, a natural protector his cultural standards are the men must be strong. He has light brown hair cut short and his eyes are speckled with green and gold. I was engaged at the time and knew he was young but I enjoyed our conversations immensely. We talked about what life is like in a foreign country, his culture, his life in America and the war going on at his home. He is a dentist in his country and now he is studying English and waiting tables illegally.

After he heard my relationship was over he asked me for my phone number and to go out for coffee, I immediately said yes. I could not help but get hot and heavy for his golden eyes and protective nature. We spent days after school in the warm May sun sitting in the park and drinking coffee staring at each other. He took me to his house and we drank wine on the floor of his bedroom.

We made love for the first time within minutes of walking into his apartment. In two months we spent every weekday together and spent nights in a cheap hotel across from where I lived with my fiancé. We smoked hookah and drank wine and made love for hours, in the morning he helped me get ready for school and got me coffee at Starbucks. My friends and I nick named him “Russia” even though he isn’t Russian he is Chechen. I told my girlfriends about him almost immediately. “Girls I think I have a lovveerrr, and he is Chechen and his name is Alexander.

“She is back!! Ohhh I missed you” said my best friend

The next man was American a new bred for me. We met in a bar through a friend, my ex fiancé’s opposite. “Americano” as we will call him is tall, blonde and calm as a lake in September. He thinks the world of me, and tells me how special I am everyday. We would work out in the long term if I would let him and I stayed in one place for longer than six months. But, I am not sure that he gets my electrons dancing like fireflies. Except, he does in a different way I would be his everything and it is a concept I can almost get behind. He fell for me hard and fast as we ventured out on weekends together. I dragged him to art festivals and tasted wine from different parts of the world and a late night part after my friends wedding. Where we spent the night together in a hotel room while I was suppose to be having a girl’s night and sleeping in the girl’s room. Always one to break the rules, it was and is my time to live.

They both fell for me and I was making love to both of them, spending time with Russian on the weekdays and Americano on the weekends; until I decided I have to leave. The Russian was strong and fast, but passionate and rough but loving at the same time. While the American was completely dedicated to me and my body, he never wanted me to leave. And I knew that was all that I could give him is me leaving him. He clung to every breath and beat I gave him.

Then there was me, clinging to both of them but neither of them at the same time. My heart raced and ached for another adventure. My next thrill and no I am not speaking of the daily orgasms I was receiving. I dreamt of the mountains, foreign lands and languages; of the greenish blue sea that sparkles and shines.

So I went….