Divorce.

Even as I write this, I look in the top right corner of the blogger dashboard and see the name Andrea K., along with a picture of me in a wedding dress in front of the church doors. Just another lingering part of my life that I haven't changed back yet.

So, I've been gone awhile. First I was too busy planning the wedding, then I was too busy being "happily" married, then I was too busy with married life, then I was too busy getting divorced. Or maybe too ashamed, or maybe too distracted by whatever else I could do to avoid writing this post. I don't know.

This is a tricky blog to write because there's a very fine line between how discreet or open I can be, and how much information is too little and how much is too much.

Well first of all, at this point, I'm sure my divorce is no secret. Between Mike posting angry messages on Facebook and the fact that my Facebook name is back to my maiden name and all photos of me and Mike are removed from my Facebook, I'm sure everyone ever knows I got a divorce. I wonder if my friends gossip about it the way I did to so many other people. "Did you see that Andrea got a divorce? She changed her name back! Do you know what happened? Who left who? They were only married a year! She got married too young. She got married too soon. I knew this would happen!" Words and phrases I threw around so carelessly about my acquaintances. I wouldn't be surprised if they were said about me. Or maybe people are more compassionate, just hoping that I'm okay. I don't really know, and I guess I shouldn't really care.

So, I guess I want to talk some about the past four months of my life. I left Mike in the first week of January. I was legally divorced through the court system in early March. I didn't commit the dates to memory and I have no desire to look them up. I'd rather not remember them, honestly. It's bad enough that December 28, 2011 will be engrained in my memory forever and will continue to pop up in places for the rest of my life.

I should never have married Mike. That's the honest truth. I was looking to settle down, because it seemed like the right thing to do, and when I met Mike he was a nice guy so I thought he was perfect. Mike also had always wanted to find that true love, so we both clung to each other and, despite obvious flaws, completely ignored them and pretended everything was completely perfect. And then the marriage kind of just... fell apart. Fights about stupid things, grudges held, and.. what's the phrase the courts use? The marriage was irretrievably broken? I mean, maybe at first it wasn't, I don't know. Maybe I should have spoken up sooner when I was unhappy. Maybe I should have tried counseling or something. And so many people talk about marriage being forever, marriage being hard, how I gave up too soon, but, if marriage is that hard, that unhappy, then I don't want it. I spent months feeling trapped in my life, resigned to unhappiness because marriage was forever. I didn't think there was a way out because I was so against divorce. On many levels. And I was afraid of my family not forgiving me. And I was proud, too proud to admit to everyone that told me to use caution when I ignored them and rushed into a marriage with a man I'd known all of 16 months.

In economics, there's opportunity cost, I think? My one economics professor said to us that, not just in economics, but in all of life, you do ANYTHING until the cost outweighs the benefit. Whenever the cost begins to outweigh the benefit, you change. And I guess that's how my marriage was. One day I woke up and realized that the cost of staying, my unhappiness, all of it, was not worth the benefits. So I came home from work, I told Mike, and I left.

I think alot of people, Mike included, thought that was easy for me. And for anyone that follows me on Facebook, for anyone that doesn't know me well, for anyone that thinks that was an easy choice, I want you to know right know: the morning I woke up after leaving Mike was the worst day of my life, without a doubt. I woke up in my friend's guest bed. I couldn't go home to my apartment, because I'd left. I couldn't call my parents, because I was scared that they'd disown me or yell at me or something terrible. I felt more alone and cut off than I ever have, and all I could picture was Mike's face from the night before. I pictured him sad and alone, and I sobbed my broken heart out. The biggest debate I had in the whole marriage was that one morning. I wanted to go back right then and there,  I wanted to live the rest of my life unhappy in my marriage just to take the look of betrayal and heartbreak off of Mike's face. And the only thing that kept me rooted to that bed was the belief, deep down, that he could do better than me. I honestly believed, and still do, that I am not right for him and he will be happier when he finds someone more suited to him. And so I cried it all out, feeling even worse knowing that I had caused that pain and could never, ever fix it. I cried all day. I sat at my friend's kitchen table and the tears just poured down my face. I cried until there were no tears left, and then I just sat. And I woke up the next day and cried again. By day three, I was just so emotionally exhausted that there were no tears left, just a hollowness.

The next two months weren't easy, either.  My closest friends, who were mostly just shocked and confused at first, were there for me, no matter what. And I did tell my parents, and learned that they love me much more unconditionally than I believed. And when I told them more about my unhappiness, our incompatibility, they were more understanding than I would have thought. And I found an apartment, and I got all my finances taken care of. I fell apart for a little, quite alot, actually. There were some days that I looked ahead at my future and the rest of my life and I honestly believed it would never get better, that I could never be happy. Some days I just went through the motions and didn't want life to go on. Some days, I read the angry, bitter texts Mike sent and I honestly believed what he said about me.

But little by little, I'm getting better. I relied on friends and family, I asked for help when I needed it, and I stopped caring so damn much about what people think, whether they are friends, family, acquaintances, enemies, strangers, etc. My life is my own. And despite what anyone else sees or thinks or believes, nobody else really knows what is best for me. I might not always know, either, but I do know that if I'm unhappy nobody else can tell me that forcing myself to stay married will eventually lead to happiness. Or anything about my life, really. It's my life, and it's too short and too precious to waste being unhappy because it's what other people want, in any decision I make.

These past few months have stripped me of my identity, my beliefs, my pride, my self worth, and who knows what else. But they've also started me on the path to rebuilding it, and rebuilding it better and stronger. I was helping a friend repaint a room, and it's kind of like that. You start with this dingy room. First coat of paint looks awful, and the trim looks weird, and it's a mess, second coat is clearing it up, and by the third you've got this new, pretty, bright room. I started out a mess, and learning to rebuild my life looked worse before it looked better. But it's definitely looking better.

Anyways, this is a ridiculously long post, and if anyone actually read the whole thing, props to you. If you want any more details on my divorce, message me privately. While I have to be discreet on a public blog, I have no issues being very very open in a private message, especially given all the openness my ex-husband has been willing to use against me on Facebook. That may be a bit catty of me or something, but at least I'm not refusing to share because I think people will think I'm catty, you know?

The July Fourth Fire.

So I've been moping lately, mostly out of boredom. And here I was, moping, trying to think of something to do when I realized that I hadn't blogged in a long time. Also, I hadn't ever written out the story of the July Fourth fire, which is even more important since my blog was originally used to tell stories of ridiculous situations in which I found myself.

So this July Fourth, Mike and I invited over our friends, Leah, Daniel, and Kate, and Leah and Daniel brought their friends, Nelisa and Nelisa's boyfriend whose name I do not remember.  Anyways, we spent alot of time sitting in the living room socializing. To make socializing time better, we had locked the cat in the bedroom since he is really annoying and I think someone was probably allergic to him (wish it was me.)

Anyways, Mike went back to use the bathroom or something, maybe just to check on Max since Mike worries about things like that. The rest of us are sitting there when suddenly this awful, ear piercing electronic shriek starts piercing the air. My first guess was that the security system that we had unplugged (because it made, loud, annoying shrieks) had started up. In the few seconds it took us to look at each other confused with our hands over our ears, Mike comes running down the hallway at top speed.

Now, before I continue, flashback to two hours prior, when I had candles in very tall jars around the house to make it smell less like cat and more like mangoes. I decided to leave one lit in the bedroom, thinking nothing bad could happen while we were still home. While doing some last minute cleaning, I put a stack of towels on the dresser next to the candle.

Back to Mike barreling down the hallway. He yells something. "WHAT?!?" we all reply. Mike's response was something along the lines of  "THERE'S A FIRE!" (though it may have involved some words that I don't feel comfortable writing in this blog.) Mike then ran to the kitchen and began looking through the cabinets.

Me, always keeping a calm head in the face of disaster, yelled at everyone to get outside (I think this is what I did, I honestly probably did no such thing and they were smart enough to go outside on their own.) Assuming Mike was looking for the fire extinguisher (I found out later he was looking for a large-ish glass to fill with water, since he doesn't keep his head in the face of danger,) I ran to help. And went straight for it under the sink. Then Mike, Kate, and I ran to the bedroom. The fire was fairly small and situated on top of the big dresser. Our lovely cat knocked the pile of towels in such a way that they fell into the candle jar and ignited. If it weren't so small, I probably would have run away. As it was, it was large enough that I forgot to take a picture with my iPhone, a detail that pains me to this day.

Because the smoke detector is ridiculously loud, I know there was alot of yelling at the top of our lungs. I'm not sure what Kate and Mike were saying, but I know I was saying, "I CAN'T GET THE PIN OUT OF THE FIRE EXTINGUISHER!" Kate poured some water on the fire, and I think Mike was just yelling at the fire. Anyways, about ten seconds later, I got the pin out of the fire extinguisher and covered everything within a ten foot radius in a pile of thick yellowish powder. (I always thought they blew out a gas that extinguished the fire. Wrong. It is a messy, messy powder.)

Unfortunately, extinguishing the fire didn't help, since the fire alarm was still making our ears bleed, so I had to remove the battery. Mike found Max (hiding under the bed) and we all went outside to find everyone else, none of whom had called 911 (thankfully.) I collapsed on the ground and let out a noise between laughing and crazy from the adrenaline still coursing through my system.

And that is the story of the July Fourth Fire.

My first ever letter to an editor.

I don't think I mention what town I'm from on my blog alot in fear of internet creepers. The time is past. I grew up in Deland, Florida. Anyways, recently, Dustin showed me an article that UF wrote about Deland:

http://www.alligator.org/sports/article_5b555186-039f-11e2-a896-001a4bcf887a.html

Please read it. Or at least the first half. I was a bit annoyed. I wrote a letter that explained my point and also voiced my annoyance quite clearly. Dustin proofread my letter, removed the annoyance, rewrote and added a few key passage. Below is our defense of our hometown.

In response to Friday’s article about Mike Gillislee running with purpose, I would first like to say that it’s good to see Mike acknowledged for his hard work. However, I am a bit offended by the portrayal of my hometown, DeLand, as inescapable and marked by dangers and daily perils. I realize that the negative representation came largely from another’s words, so I would like to take a moment and share some of mine.

I was sent this article by my brother, a UF alumnus. Both of us grew up in DeLand, attended DeLand High School, and went on to get college degrees. Our parents still live in DeLand, and my husband and I are planning on moving there one day. While there is a rougher part of town, it should not serve as a symbol of DeLand as a whole. The view that “everyone around the city does drugs” is far from the truth, and the idea that DeLand is inescapable only applies to those who don’t have the motivation to get up and leave.

For those who choose to stay, DeLand offers high school graduates the opportunity to attend a well-regarded university. Stetson University, founded in 1883, is located in downtown DeLand, and the campus is classified as a national historic district. Many of my friends attended Stetson, and some of them even chose to stay in DeLand to begin their careers, in spite of the “people around here that sell dope and shoot. It’s not the right place for anybody.” How unfortunate for them!

DeLand High School has an engineering academy and an International Baccalaureate Program, offering many opportunities for students to excel. Those who aren’t “A+ students” can attend Daytona State College, the local community college, and receive their AA degree before moving on to a university, as I’m sure many UF students do.

Being a Florida State University graduate, I am used to trash talk from University of Florida students. I have been hearing it since I first attended FSU in 2007. While I can at least understand why UF students like to poke fun at my choice of colleges, I am hurt to see my beautiful, friendly, quaint hometown misrepresented based on the words of one person whose part-time job at Captain D’s isn’t enough to get him out of the town to which I’m hoping to return.

I commend Mike Gillislee for making something of himself, and I am proud to say that I am from a town where people are given a shot at something greater, regardless of their circumstances.

Sincerely,

Andrea Kanis

I know Deland isn't perfect. But I am proud of my hometown. 


UPDATE:

I would also like you to read a letter written by my friend Kailey:

Dear Mr. Pincus,

DeLand. Seriously? Home of the historic liberal arts college, Stetson University? Sky-diving capital of the world? Proud film-set of The Waterboy??

Maybe you've just watched one too many episodes of The Wire (which is understandable, great show), or maybe you're just going off hearsay (which is less understandable, when interviewing NCAA athletes/cousins), but DeLand was probably not the town to pick for sensationalist depictions of "perils and dangers." 

Don't get me wrong, I'm glad Mike "found his way to Gainesville." 

I also found my way to Gainesville, where someone was shot in a student living apartment complex last year. Gainesville has a 2010 crime record of 6,325, including 4 manslaughters, 86 forcible rapes, and 617 aggravated assaults. Still, I count my blessings. I'm no longer in a town where people only, "sell dope and shoot."  Mike's cousin was articulate enough to get the message out about that. Preach it!

Don't get my wrong - I have no hard feelings here, Adam. I make fun of DeLand all the time for it's small-town quirks and awkward mesh of intellectuals and rednecks. But please. Take it from someone who grew up there: DeLand High's football practice field is next to a shop called "Buttercup Bakery."

Anyways, gotta run. Back to saving up enough money to get my helpless parents and younger sister out of that struggling hell-hole! 

Best Regards,

Kailey Moffatt

 

Why I run and count calories.

Well, obviously I do it to keep in shape and whatnot. But alot of times people give me crap if I say I'm worried about my weight. "But you're thin, you don't need to worry about weight!" "Oh, you're fine, stop thinking about it." Other things like that which frustrate me. Well, I currently am thin, but that's a product of me being careful about food and working out.

When I was home this weekend, I went through all my school pictures. I tell people quite frequently that I was a chubby kid, and they either don't believe me or tell me everyone went through an awkward phase. Thus, I have posted below a small collection of photos of me throughout my life. Not as many as I had, but enough to give you a good idea. Keep in mind that I took pictures of a print with my iPhone.

Three years old. I think I'm all that.

Second grade. No front teeth. So many freckles.

Fourth grade. My first pair of glasses. I loved them.

Fifth grade.

Somewhere between fifth and sixth. This picture makes me laugh.

Sixth.... Glases, braces, side part hair (which wasn't cool in 1999.) Just before my growth spurt.

 I skipped 7th and 8th because the pics weren't readily accessible. Seventh is a slightly thinner version of above. In eighth, I got bangs. I didn't get contacts and braces off until ninth:

Freshman year of high school. Decided not to take my retainer out for the picture.

Sophomore year of high school. Black eyeliner is cool. I had such a circle face...

I also liked black shirts alot. And didn't believe in any sort of skin makeup.

Senior Portrait!

High School graduation. My face shape there is actually the same as now.

 And there you have it. Me throughout the years. There was a pretty awkward phase there, which I'm sure we all have. More than anything, I just wanted to post a bunch of pictures of me online somewhere that wasn't facebook.

Updates.

Life has been calm lately. Calm and normal, which I like.

Running has become a normal sort of thing that I look forward to. This morning, I ran four miles. It is a monumental first for me. It took 52 minutes, which I think isn't too bad, but I'm not really sure. Dustin would say it's terrible, my nice friends would probably say it's awesome. Whatever, I think it's fun.

I might try to go vegetarian for a week. I always used to say I never could, but lately, I've been having full vegetarian days without even realizing it, mostly just because I've been trying to eat leftovers or didn't have any meat readily available. Black beans are one of my new favorite foods. Black beans and rice, black bean soup, black bean chili, etc. Oh, and sweet potatoes. It'd be interesting, maybe.

I visited Jacksonville last week. It was alot of fun.

I'll be in Deland again soon.

There's just not alot going on lately.