Maile Hernandez

Well, it looks like this glutton for punishment is going back one more time.

It’s going to pretty much be horrible.  I’ve decided to go 1) to complete the lending of my support, and 2) I need to be there on the off chance something goes our way.

My hopes are not high so I’m hoping when they’re dashed it’ll hurt less.  Who knows.  I tried to mentally prepare for the worst last time and it turned out there’s really no way you can prepare for it.

Not much more to say about that so let’s move on to TV.

I watched the pilot episode of “Smash” on OnDemand, and . . . it totally kicked ass!  I loved it.  It seems people think from the previews that it’s along the lines of “Glee.”  No, it is not.  It is not like “Glee” at all.  There are musical numbers in it but they’re not couched the same.  I recommend checking it out.

What’s not to like about Katharine McPhee?  She has a great voice, she’s gorgeous, she’s clearly a nice person.  She’s human.  She had that eating disorder and has copped to insecurity.  I respond to that.  I generally don’t respond as much to people, in entertainment or in life, who don’t exhibit some level of vulnerability.  And Megan Hilty is great.  I remember seeing her in “Wicked.”

Ah, Broadway.  Specifically musicals.  They just DO it for me.  I want to incorporate the way they make me feel into my life.  It’s not about singing or acting.  I’m not good enough.  Seriously, I’m not being negative or whatever, I’m really not.  And it’s not about wanting to be a part of that world anyway.  I used to think so, but now I know I just want that feeling I get when I watch and hear those songs.  I really think it must be what cocaine must feel like.  You feel explosive and powerful and like emotions are beautiful.  Your chest feels bigger and everything feels colorful and exciting and full of possibility.  Like you yourself are dramatic and intriguing and stand out.  Like your every thought is worthy of being put to powerful music.  You float down the street and feel amazing.  Inherently relevant.

But like dangerous drugs, it’s a fire that burns you if you get too close to it and let it take over.  The higher you let those passionate feelings rise, the greater the fall when reality cuts you down.  Which it always will.  There’s just some part of my brain that is really sensitive to the particular emotional response Broadway musicals invoke, but almost too much.

I tend to forget how much, since that’s not really part of my life these days.  Then I watch a show like that and think, OH yes, I remember this feeling.  My mouth hangs open and my body freezes watching.  And then I tell myself, look out.  Be careful!

I also watched “Paranormal Activity 3″ on OnDemand.  I’d meant to see it in the theater but never got around to it.  I enjoyed it.  It wasn’t my favorite of the series but it was fun to watch.

I love the “found footage” format.  People say, when will they stop doing that?  I hope never.  I don’t see it as a gimmick, I see it as a genre, and I hope it’s here to stay.  I love the immediacy of it.  I get much more lost in that kind of movie.  It’s pretty controversial with viewers, I don’t know.  If you don’t like that style, don’t watch it.  Love it or leave it.  I love it.

And, I suppose it was only a matter of time before I got sucked into “Dance Moms.”  Been having some fun with that one too.

A few more weeks and I will finally be past this months-long period of wait and see mixed with general despair.  At least, I think so.  It’s hard to fully commit to anything until it’s really decided for him and the fat lady has sung, at least for the immediate future.  I think she’s gargling some tea with honey now, getting ready.

I would like to extend my deep personal thanks to Geico’s advertising department for coming out with more commercials with that pig squealing, “Wheeee!  Wheeee!”  It cracks me up every damn time.

How can you possibly be in a bad mood when that pig is squealing on the screen?

Max used to like those commercials for Quizno’s with the creepy animated squirrels - were they squirrels?  Gophers maybe? - screeching “We love the suuuubs!  Cause they are tasty they are yummy they’re so good because they toast them!”  I laughed pretty hard at those too.  They weren’t on that long.  I guess they decided they were too weird.

I’ve had a flurry of emails from this group of girlfriends planning a get-together in honor of one of my friends’ recent engagement.  To blatantly steal one’s hilarious recounting of it:  ”He went the el cheapo route by flying her to Paris and proposing on New Year’s Eve.  What . . . a loser.”

It’s a decent enough day I guess.  You know, I have been known to characterize recent events as, “Why does all this bad stuff happen to me?”  But it’s not all bad.  It’s just not typical.

When I think about it, I’ve never really been typical.  So why would I attract typical people with typical lives?

Maybe despite all my protestations, I really don’t just want to be normal.

The partners I’ve had have all had extraordinary qualities that have led to wonderful and terrible things in their lives.  And I could say the same about myself.

Maybe we make our own path, but it’s not as black and white as a bad or a good path.  I bemoan the opera in my life, yet when there hasn’t been opera, I’ve usually felt like I wasn’t really living.  Like I was wasting time.

I say I’m trying to find normality, but maybe I’ll never find it because something in me isn’t meant to find it.  Maybe I wouldn’t know what to do with it if I had it.

Somehow, all this craziness is in fact meant to be.  Even if I don’t wrap it up into a package with a bow and turn it into something that changes the world.  It’s just meant to be for me.  Lots of exotic pain, and also sometimes really transcendent joy.

Lord have mercy, another day.

That retreat thing starts tonight and I really don’t know if I can bring myself to go.  I paid for it, I can’t get a refund, I have no other plans.  There’s no reason not to go.  Except that I just feel overwhelmed by the thought of getting my shit together, going to this unfamiliar place, being with strangers, and later at night than I’d like.  I feel like I just want to hide away.

I’m scared of the future.  It’s not unreasonable to be hopeful, but I’m so scared of seeing him get hurt any more.  The thought of those people’s faces and voices just makes me want to cry and hide.  When they say things to hurt him it’s exactly like they’re saying things to try to destroy me.  Maybe even worse.  Actually definitely worse than if they were after me.  I’m used to seeing myself suffer.  But someone that I desperately want to love and protect - it’s like with every attack on him they’re telling me, “Hey, watch this.  What are you gonna do about it?  You are ineffectual.  You don’t deserve just normal happiness, and neither do the people you love.”

I feel such deep hatred and anger toward all the people who have a say in his life, but get to go back to their regular lives while we suffer the consequences.  It’s such a black feeling that it scares me.

We are not bad people.  But sometimes I feel like there’s this target on our back.  And I can’t help but wonder, in my case, if for some cosmic reason it is in fact deserved.  Why else would this happen?  Can it really just be bad luck?  It feels deliberate.  To lose my family, to find a new love, have it taken away this way - do I have to be hit over the head?  Somehow, I must not deserve love.  Because come on, bad luck?  Who does any of this happen to?  I don’t know one other person.  I feel singled out.

And worse, I feel like he’s been singled out too.  That makes it ten thousand times worse.  If I have to struggle and suffer, I’d so much rather do it alone than simultaneously see it happen to the person I love.  It’s so cruel.  And it’s most cruel that people are making this happen.  It’d be easier if it was cancer or some act of God.

I already had a tremendous mistrust of people.  Seeing this confirms a fear I’d always half had.  Look, they are in fact against you.  They’re after him now.  They know you love and need this person, so they’ll be damned if they let you have what they have.  They’ll take this away from you, then go home laughing to their spouses and families.

It’s not logical.  This started for him before he met me.  Yet it feels like somehow he caught my curse.  Bad things happen to people I love.  Not just bad things - the worst fucking possible things.  And my punishment is I get to watch it all.  And live with the loss.  And feel stupid that I ever actually let myself think that I deserved “normal.”

Why on earth would I want to leave the house and pretend I’m normal?  It’s not self-pity.  It’s simple conclusion drawn from observation.

Don’t leave the house, Maile.  It doesn’t work out for you.

Now.  Getting a grip.  These are just feelings.  They’re not reality.  I can’t possibly be such an important person that the whole world orchestrates itself to bring me down!  This is just life, there are happenings, sometimes you flip a coin and it gives you heads 5 times in a row.  It doesn’t mean you’re cosmically destined to always get heads, it doesn’t say anything about you, it doesn’t mean heads is all you’ll ever deserve and get.

There are no patterns, not in things beyond my control.  I didn’t do anything to cause my husband and son’s death, and I didn’t do anything to cause what has happened to the Boyfriend.  It is random.

Still scary, though.  Still makes me not want to leave the house for a while.  I mean, you touch a hot stove a couple times and get burned, it goes against logic to touch it a third time thinking maybe this time it won’t be hot.

I struggle a lot with the concept of hope.  ”You gotta have hope.”  Uh, why?  If things are beyond my control, they’ll play out how they’re going to regardless.  Why not have no hope and then be pleasantly surprised, instead of holding onto hope and then seeing it crushed?  If you assume positivity really affects outcome, then the reverse must be true.  That the bad things in my life somehow came from an attitude problem of mine.  I just finished talking myself out of that mentality.

How can you have it both ways?  When good things happen it’s because you put positive energy into the universe, but when bad things happen, oh, that was just random?  Do you see my dilemma?  You have to believe there is control or there isn’t.  I think it’s healthier to assume there isn’t.  Otherwise I’d have to believe somehow I had all the bad events of the last two years coming to me.  I think any professional would agree that’s not a healthy belief to have.  So then how can they say I can control things by positive thinking?  That can’t be true either.  I’ve had hope lots of times and seen it dashed.

In regards to his situation now, all he, we, can do is make the best moves we can within the circumstances we’ve been given.  We are doing that.  As long as we do that, we keep the possibility of a positive outcome in the mix.  So, we remember that possibility is there and don’t fall into total despair.  That’s all.  That’s balanced.  That’s logical.  I guess that applies to life, too.

Shit, it has to come up tails sometime.

I would never have chosen to be involved in something like this.  Never, never, never.  But I am involved and that’s just how it is.

I remember seeing him cry, at one of the hardest parts.  It was one of the saddest and yet most beautiful things I’d ever seen.  He wasn’t sad at what he was facing, not at that moment.  He was sad about all of it.  Just about the broken lives.

He cared.  He always cared.  That’s part of why this happened.

I’m not sure how specific I want to be.  This is so ironic and I want to talk about it while still respecting his privacy.  There is a measure, a law, that plays into the reason he faces such dire consequences right now.  It is a measure that comes from good intentions, but is overly broad.

The strange thing is, the very proponents of this law have actually cited Max’s death as part of their cause.  I came across it when I was researching it.

I have a foot on both sides of it.  On the one hand, proponents want to protect children in my son’s situation.  On the other, they want to destroy someone else I love under the same umbrella.

My life is SO weird.

So I find myself on this winding road with him and his family.  It is beyond painful.  But I have to do what I think is right.  Right now, it’s right that I believe in this cause.  I simply cannot back out.  I cannot remove my emotional support, and the limited practical support I can offer.  I know how it all went down, I know who he is, and I know this isn’t right.  Whether we can ever get the right people to see that or not.  So even though it is killing me inside to watch this happen, I can’t just cut and run.  I’d be adding to the already massive pain he faces, and I can’t do that.

Like I said before, I can’t back out on someone I love just because it gets hard.  I can’t ignore something so patently unfair, when it directly affects me and someone I love.  It’s very complicated and hard for outsiders to understand.  But I’m not an outsider.

That’s why it hurts so much.

So what am I actually doing with my days?  Well, it’s quiet.  Sometimes I’m on the phone with various people, or writing correspondence related to his problem.  Talking with him and his family.  It’s a fair amount to take on, but I’m up for it.

Lots of writing.  Sometimes I’m writing for myself, or to him, or on here.  It’s all just processing.  I’m starting work on my next project, when I have the emotional energy.  This latest trauma is still quite new and it drains a lot of that emotional energy, but I anticipate slowly progressing in the coming months.

This weekend I’m going to a retreat, kind of a weekend-long psychological self-care seminar.  Maybe someone will say something that resonates.  Perspective can be found in all kinds of places.

I’m tired a lot.  I’m sad and overwhelmed a lot.  That’s punctuated by bursts of energy.  I do a lot of thinking, and then sometimes I can’t think any more.  But when I am thinking, it’s good.  It’s productive.

Did I mention I have the strangest life?

The real point is this.  I talked about injustice.  But even that, even that, is beside the point.

The point is that it’s just all pain.  Only pain.  Widespread, far-reaching, inescapable, for everyone.

He called me this morning.  I want to be upbeat for him.  Sometimes I can’t.

I told him I don’t know how to live with what I saw.  It’s like I saw a horrible gory accident and I can’t get it out of my mind.  It’s not about what am I going to do now.  It’s not about the anger.  It’s not about why me.

It’s just about the pain.  That it exists.  That I saw this.  And that it happens everywhere, every day.

I knew, but I didn’t know.

I wish I didn’t know now.

Well, let’s see.  What brilliant thing shall I write today.

Uhm, yeah.  Not gonna happen.

It is up and down, this new crisis/loss/whatever.  Feedback, information, then new corrected information.  There are days of, hey, maybe it’ll be ok!  Maybe it’s not as bad as - Then it’s oh, wait, never mind, you’re still screwed.

I feel really alone with it.  Like no one but those very close to me would understand.

Like the outside world would judge.  Maybe even laugh.

I loved this person.  It gave me hope.  I had every reason to hope.  It was logical.  It was a good choice.  People applauded me, were happy for me.  I knew what I wanted to do next.

Up until his past took away our future.

Sometimes I can pretend there’s a chance it’ll turn around for him.  By that I mean I can pretend the chance is good.  Sometimes - like today - it’s so wrenching.  Nothing can make me forget the near hopelessness.

And there he is.

Did I mention what a wonderful person this is?  A sweet, sweet being.  I know because this happened it’s easy to assume he had two faces.  But he doesn’t.

This has been too hard to witness and live through.  I feel myself shutting down.  I can feel my mind moving from its flurry of activity to paralysis.  I’m sure it’ll be active again.  With the next ray of hope.  And then the shadow returns.

No one I know knows what this is like.

If it were just feeling the loss and the loneliness, I could do that.  I know how to do that.

I don’t know how to live with what I saw.  It’s an agonizing, unbelievable reality.

Another agonizing, unbelievable reality.  And I’m sick with it.  The horror of it was as bad as the things I read about my family’s bodies.  Watching him circle the drain and go down, no one to save him.  Right there in my front row seat.  Someone who had become my new family.  Someone I loved.  My new place in the world.  I watched it all disappear.

And people wanted it, were happy about it.  People who knew one percent of what I know.  They couldn’t wait to see our modest hopes destroyed.  So sure they were right, too.  Without anything concrete to support it, oh, they were so sure.  Just his words from that moment.  Words born of fear that this, THIS very thing, the worst nightmare, would happen.

I’m so tired of other people’s destinies destroying my reality.  I’m just trying to have a life.  Is that just too much to ask?  What is the universe trying to tell me?  Because I gotta tell you, it doesn’t feel like the message is good.

You know, you hear these trite sayings over and over.  Listen to your heart, follow your gut, etc.  You hear them and you give them lip service, and you don’t even disbelieve them, but then things happen and you see what they really mean.

So here’s the little epiphany I had, while watching a cheesy Lifetime movie about bullies and eating leftover Chinese food.  One of those secrets of life, you know.

Here it is.  Ready?

I am always right.

Seriously.  Every time I’ve really believed in something, one hundred percent, even if it led to trouble or even if I changed my mind later, it’s still always turned out to have been one hundred percent right for me.

It is never wrong to really believe in something when you know it’s worthy of you.  It always makes you better.

It always makes you wiser and it always leads to growth.  Self-generated growth, from the inside - the best kind.

I have never failed to discover great things about myself along a journey I took when I really believed in something.

Therefore, my truest beliefs are never wrong.

Therefore, I am always right.

What a relief!  All those times of agonized second-guessing, wondering about my worth, wondering if I was crazy or stupid or just wrong?  Yeah.  No.  I was right.

I was always right.  I am always right.  I always will be right.

Well, I mean about the really important stuff.  How do I know what that is?  Because it’s important to me.

Anything I decide is important, IS important.  No need to doubt it.

That’s it.

Sometimes there’s some choice I could make that would probably be good.  But I’ll feel like there’s something else that’s more important - to me - to do.

Guess what.  I’m right.  If there’s something good I COULD do but I’m not sure about it, there’s doubtless something even better, that I will probably do way more effectively, my own way, that I AM sure about.  Because of that certainty.  And when I feel sure, that’s when I know that’s the right choice.  And there’s no need to wonder.

Because I’m always right.

Man, it feels good to always be right!

Yesterday I went to the bank to do some stuff, and the lady there asked me what I do.

I figured what the hell, she’s a stranger, I’ll try it on for size.

“I’m a freelance writer.”

“Oh, that’s cool!  What have you written?”

I said I’d done some articles about theater in Phoenix, that I’d written one book and am working on another.  All true!

It IS what I’m doing in the immediate future.  So I’m going with that.  I like how it sounds.  I like that it has the word “free” in it.

So, as a freelance writer, I am now going to freely discuss how the latest episode of Teen Mom 2 depressed the hell out of me.

I got home from dinner last night with some attorney friends.  I’ve talked to so many about the Boyfriend’s problem.  I get a lot of perspectives.  People have different reasons for finding different aspects of it highly appalling.  It bolsters the notion that my sense of unfairness is not totally unfounded or based in bias.  While that makes me feel better in some ways, it also makes me angrier about the whole thing.  The issue now is, it was wrong, but was it wrong enough to be turned around?  That I just don’t know.

So I came home and turned on the show to unwind.  It had the exact opposite effect.  I guess I’m just really emotional right now, because by the end of the episode I was almost in tears for all these girls!

Kailyn.  Broke, and now she totals her car.  I really felt for her when she started crying on the phone to the car dealer.  I sure know that feeling, of everything falling apart.

Chelsea.  Chelsea, that Adam is pure garbage.  He’s even worse than my first boyfriend was and that’s saying a lot.  It bugs me to no end to see people like him even walking around.  When he showed up to “help” her move, groused that he was tired, and left without lifting a finger, I was disgusted.  I can’t believe how mean he is to her.  He always has been.  I hate that she lets him get away with it.  People like him have no reason to have any pride.

Leah.  I really relate to her whole agony with Ali’s undiagnosed disorder.  I remember going through that with Max.  It is an awful, helpless feeling to have something wrong with your child and not know what its long-term effects will be.  At least her husband is a halfway decent individual.

Jenelle.  Good Lord.  She is a mess.  She creates a lot of it, but her life is also crap.  Her mom’s voice is so grating it just makes my eye twitch.  She is completely lost.  Then Kieffer messes with her mind by not answering the phone to her and ultimately breaking up with her (though I saw in the preview that turns around next week).  I know, it’s trash drama, but her agony was real.

I see all these girls, rubbing their temples in stress, hair every which way, no makeup, too scared to care.  It really strikes home.  I know exactly how it feels.  The sense memory returns to me and I feel it again seeing them.

Reality sure is no picnic.

I’m still working on gathering and organizing all the old pictures of Max.  It’s tedious and emotional.  There are hundreds.  I’m making progress.  I’ve known I needed to do it for a long time but I wasn’t ready till now.  Soon I’m going to make major changes to my site so that I can display them in the proper fashion, among other things.  I need a less primitive fomat.

I’m taking things slow but making progress.  There is a lot of pain.  It makes every effort I make like moving underwater.  It’s slow, but I am moving forward, even if it’s just one miniscule accomplishment a day.

It’s him, not me.  It happened to him, not me.

I just have to keep repeating that like a mantra.  Try to separate myself, not from caring about him but from feeling the impact of the devastation as if it had happened to me.

The thing is, I felt their collective enmity against him as if it were against me. I identified with him.  And I was aligned with him.

And though he has lost much more, we did lose one thing in common.  A relationship that had become very important for both of us.  And we both felt the hope, and faced the subsequent agony of the outcome.  We both genuinely believed it would have to go differently.

I’m not just a girlfriend.  I’m a lawyer.  I SAW it.  I watched it all with a trained eye.  I know what it takes to prove a case beyond a reasonable doubt.  That did not happen.  There’s no way it ever could have.

I care.  Do you stop caring about someone just because things get tough for them?  That’s never been my style.  It’s not like I can shrug and say, “Well, shit happens, sucks for you, now let’s see who’s out there on Match.com to date.”

No dating for this girl.  This is me time.  Clearly, the powers that be have orchestrated it that way.

It didn’t happen to me.  I can and will go on.  I can’t go down with the ship, even if I wanted to.

But it was wrong.

If I had seen he deserved this, it would be different.  If the relationship had been less good for both of us, it would be different.  If he were a different kind of person than he is, it might seem less outrageous.

Even if I didn’t care about him, I would still see that this was wrong.

It wasn’t just a wrong against him.  It affected everyone in his life.  That includes me.  It just does.

I’m in it, but I can’t be in it.  I have to say to myself, it’s horrible, it sucks, it’s a shitty thing that happened, it has hurt me - but it could be worse, because I can move on and he can’t.  He can’t move on, but I can’t let that terribly painful knowledge keep me from finding solace in the fact that I can.

But I care.

It’s okay to care.  It’s okay to be heartbroken for him and myself.  It’s okay to be incredibly upset, and disappointed, and grieving.  It’s okay to still hope, for his sake and his family’s, that somehow this can be turned around one day.  I do, after all, care.  And I do know it was wrong.  I would feel a lot better about the world if I saw it righted.

It’s okay to try to help.  It won’t take much out of me.  There’s not much I can do.

It would be a great fantasy if I could save him, the way I couldn’t save my son.  I can’t help but think that way sometimes.  My son is gone, but he is still here.  In a hell of a spot, but he’s here, isn’t there something I can do?  But the fact is my powers are limited.

I just have to remember that I am separate, and I am okay.  I have things to do, important things, for myself.  Nothing stands in the way of doing those.  I have seen a door close that I desperately wanted open, but there are still a lot of other doors for me to try.  There are.  I just have to keep reminding myself.