Made New

Chapter 1: “Wipe-Out”—The End of a Relationship

“Get out! And for God’s sake, get out of my life!” The screaming came from the top of my lungs. I was enraged, tired, fed up, and beaten down.

February 1993: Four blocks and endless miles of the Pacific coastline—sandy beaches, roaring dune buggies, sunbathers, clam diggers, surfers, and warming sunshine, while a storm was brewing in our apartment a mere six feet from my noisy and busy street. Cars and clankity trucks whizzed by and mid-afternoon cool ocean breezes blew their way west and into the front door of my apartment as I hurled armfuls of Levi’s, jackets, shirts, shoes, thrown with all my might, out onto the street and sidewalk. All because of the monster I had been living with.

Who would have guessed it would turn out this way. I slammed the door on him as I thought of the past ten months . . .

December 1991: After three hours of challenging tests and interviews with an insurance company in north Fresno, the human resources department called, offering me a position with an excellent benefits package. I was ecstatic about landing a stable full-time job. In January I would begin paid training for the next six weeks, learning medical terminology, law, and benefits that related to processing health and dental insurance claims. Upon graduating with an A, I was shown to my own desk where I enjoyed a beautiful view of ferns, birds, and a view of nature that was to die for. Sometimes, it was actually hard to concentrate on my work.

I wanted to be responsible and “do this right,” and I asked my mother-in-law to make a budget for me. I knew I couldn’t just think about myself. I had the enormous responsibility of raising two children on my own as a single parent, and I was terrified of failing. I agreed with her that I should be able to make enough money to pay my bills and provide for my two children and myself for years to come, if I followed it. I thought I was beginning to have some semblance of getting my life in order, since my husband and I had just separated four months prior to starting my new career.

In my mind, I was financially stable. But, emotionally and spiritually, I was a total mess.

My ex-husband had played games with his new lover and me for several months following the separation, living with one of us for a few days before returning to the other, a cycle that had continued far too long. How I gave in to his demands and sick arrangements dumbfounds me today. By February, on my way to financial stability, I had had enough of his games and made the decision to hire an attorney to file for divorce.

I kept regular weekly appointments with my psychologist when she informed me about a weekly group of women dealing with codependency issues, abuse, and divorce. I decided to make the commitment and I became one of about ten in the group, composed of a variety of women, younger or older, married, single, or divorced.

Over the next few weeks, Katie and I met and were delighted that we had so many of the same interests in common, including both of us being single.

March 1992, a Tuesday evening: Our emotions were raw, each one of us relating with one another’s experiences. We had heart-wrenching discussions, took on our challenges, and said our good-byes until the next week.

Thinking I needed a little rest and relaxation time from the last three months of job training and family responsibilities, I approached Katie and asked, “Hey Katie, can I talk to you a minute?” as we were picking up our belongings to leave.

“Sure, what’s up?”

“I’ve been thinking about taking a weekend trip to Pismo Beach in a couple of weeks. Would you be interested in going with me? I’m thinking that I’ll leave on Saturday and return Sunday afternoon.”

“Oh! Wow! That sounds like a great plan. I could really use a day away for myself, too.”

Two weeks later, I drove thirty minutes to north Fresno where Katie and I packed my car, and set off for the two-and-a-half hour drive to Pismo Beach. The weather was clear and the day was sunny as we talked about what our plans would be for our one evening out together. We were giddy and excited to the point of not being able to contain it. We hurried to our hotel, unpacked and found ourselves back in my car, cruising for miles, around Arroyo Grande, Shell, Pismo and Grover Beaches. I don’t know about the rest of the country, but this was, and still is, one of the many pleasures of the Pacific Coast of California. As we drove through Shell Beach, each of us spotted The Cliffs at Shell Beach dance club and restaurant and decided to return later that evening.

At Kmart, Katie and I shopped for the sexiest dresses we could find. Dress after dress, trying on, evaluating, and finally approving of one another’s choices, and two hours later, we hurried back to our hotel, laughing at ourselves and dreaming of a memorable and beautiful night on the Coast.

Showers, legs shaved, two sexy dresses, pantyhose, black pumps, makeup, hair, and we were ready. The sun had gone down and the western sky was being overtaken by a black starlit cover above a thick layer of oranges, purples, and gold as I drove two miles north and parked along the cliffs that drop off into the Pacific Ocean. The air was cool and the ocean smelled like the salty sea. The skies were clear and the crescent moon and stars’ beautiful reflection off the gentle waves slowly splashing upon the rocks below us was romantic.

The evening felt so nice we couldn’t decide whether to hang out on the open patio attached to the club enjoying a gorgeous view of the ocean reflecting the moon and stars or to go inside where the DJ kept the songs going for a full dance floor. The music was loud and I could feel the walls and floor vibrating from around and inside of me as if my heart and ears were beating along with early ‘90s hits by Michael Jackson, Madonna, and Richard Palmer.

Across the room, Rodney and I spotted each other. We smiled and I instantly thought he was one of the best-looking men I had ever seen. He wasted no time strutting over to where Katie and I were standing against the end of the bar, and said, “Hi, beautiful woman. I’m Rodney.” I was swept off my feet.

“Hi, I’m Judy.” Smiling. “And, this is my friend, Katie.” Katie and I nodded at one another in agreement.

The DJ played Thriller and Rodney held out his hand. “Do you want to dance?”

“Of course.”

I thought I was in love. Nope! Infatuation! Know the difference! But I didn’t listen to that small voice. . .

Four hours of flirting, smiling, talking, dancing, drinking, and finally, kissing goodbye. Katie and I made our way back down Highway 101, toward our hotel, alone. I fell into my bed, sore and tired, rubbing my eyes, feeling something odd or strange, and that my life was going to change into something that would soon become exciting and fun-filled.

I became emotionally attached to Rodney and wholeheartedly believed that I had found a real catch. I returned to my job Monday and the next weekend he and I met halfway in a small town, where he informed me about where he had just spent the previous four years. He was extremely emotional and seemed not to be sure of how I would take the truth about his past.

Walking hand in hand back to my car, Rodney confessed, “Judy, there’s something I need to tell you about me.”

“Um, okay.” Rodney was crying. “Why are you so upset?” Wrapping my arms around him.