Grin and Bear It: How to Be Happy No Matter What Reality Throws Your Way (10 page)

“I just can’t do it. There is no counseling or anything we can do that is going to repair it. I’m done.” This was the only explanation Chris gave that day after the wedding.

“What did I do?” I asked through my tears, but he wouldn’t answer.

Surely I’d done something to bring this on. Why on earth would he be pulling away if I hadn’t?

I let a few days go by. After giving it a lot of thought I decided I would fight as hard as I could to salvage our relationship. I begged Chris to go to counseling, which he agreed to do on the condition we sought the help of someone outside of our church. We found a wonderful therapist who was a straight shooter and she got right to the point. When she asked each of us if the other was the right person for us, I quickly responded, “I will do whatever it takes.” Of course, I didn’t notice that I didn’t say, “Yes.”

I was well aware of my deeply rooted abandonment issues that resulted from my father leaving my mother, so my greatest fear in life was having my husband leave me. Worse, I feared that if Chris left, he would go on to become famous and I’d be all on my own as a once barely famous wannabe. Isn’t that pathetic! In my heart, and as his wife, I wanted Chris to make it as an actor but only if I was in control of the path. How awful is that? I wasn’t being fair to either of us, but I knew he was fabulously talented and I was controlling and jealous. There, I said it.

When the therapist asked Chris what the chances were that we could work things out, I think his response was, “About ten percent.”

I saw that answer as a good thing because at least there was still hope. (Okay, lock me up.)

Throughout our weekly therapy sessions, I felt like Humpty Dumpty trying to piece back together the frayed threads of my marriage. I wanted things to work. I deluded myself with the thought that perhaps he was just confused, that he had the “seven-year itch” three years early, or any other excuse I could conjure up to justify his desire to leave. It was all so desperate. I promised to change, to do better, to do or be anything he asked.

I completely ignored the fact that Chris was part of the marriage. He also had feelings and needs. And he did say that he didn’t want to be in the game, but I wasn’t listening.

Less than a month after he left, I was in my car when I saw Chris walking down the street. When he waved, I pulled over to say hi and asked him if he wanted to talk. He did. He said he had made a mistake by leaving me. In that moment, I felt like I had dodged a bullet. I had no idea the gun was still loaded and would fire again someday. Still, the first few weeks we were back together, things felt tentative and I was uncertain of what the future would bring. But as time went on, we eased back into our old comfortable existence. I was deaf to any bells of warning and
holy hell there were bells
:

Ding—If he tells you he wants to be a player, listen.

Ding—10% is what I pay my agent, not what I want from a life partner.

Ding—Trying to control another person is not the same as loving them.

It was around this same time that I was first cast in
Jewtopia
, I was sharing my role with another actress who was there before I came on board. Once I was added to the roster she left the show to do other acting jobs so I took over our role full time. About a year later, the play was headed to New York as an off-Broadway show. I was so excited to be going to New York as a working actress. I quickly found an apartment that Chris and I would move into during the run. It was the perfect fresh start we needed. And, I thought this would be my big break because
Saturday Night Live
was filmed in New York and surely Lorne Michaels would come see me in
Jewtopia
.

Um, no.

Unfortunately, my rising star off-Broadway never came to pass. When the other actress heard about the show moving to New York, she stepped in and said she wanted to go as the lead actress and was not interested in sharing the role with me. She demanded that I be ousted, and she won. The producers chose her over me—so once again, I was like a Weeble. I wobbled and still got back up.

Chris didn’t take the news quite as well as I did. In fact, he confronted the other actress about her last-minute decision.

“I got f***ed over so many times in my career that it’s my turn to f*** other people over!” He told me that was her response.

After that loss, for a while, life got back to normal. Ironically, even though I didn’t get the chance to move to New York, Chris and I were both cast in a movie called
Manhattan Minutiae
. Chris was the male lead and I was his best girl “friend.” It was like old times. Of course, the elation was only temporary. Sadly, I didn’t know our reconciliation would only last a few years and the same problems would eventually resurface on national television. I wasn’t naïve or stupid. I was in love and couldn’t or wouldn’t recognize the truth about my marriage until it was exposed on
Flipping Out
.

So, after the infamous nanny cam show aired, it took a little while to get used to strangers writing or stopping me on the street to offer comfort, support, and kind words of hope. They didn’t know me, but they witnessed my pain and humiliation and offered their compassion and care anyway. These letters and encounters were very important and the unconditional love from these people helped me get me through a horrifying time. Bravo and NBC had actually sent me to see a therapist before the show aired to make sure I would understand how my experiences would make other people feel. I had been forewarned about their reactions and was for the most part ready for whatever came my way. Although I didn’t know the people who reached out to me, they felt as though they knew me, and in many ways, they do.

I now understand that what Jeff did wasn’t cruel. He was just opening my eyes to the truth. I may not have liked his methods, but I can’t be angry about where it ultimately led me. And for that, I will forever be grateful.

Even though I was in the midst of an almost debilitating depression, I knew I didn’t deserve to stay humiliated forever. I knew that no matter what came my way, I had to hold my head up and refuse to speak negatively about Chris or the situation as it unfolded.

I had to stay focused, which wasn’t easy. I was aching to get off the train.

So what do you do?

Instead of getting off the train, no matter how much that out-of-the-way station is winking at you, stay on it for the ride—the journey. In my case, it felt as if someone had their foot in my back holding me down on that damned train because my nature was to leap from it regardless of how fast it was rolling along.

Even when I wanted to hide in my bed and pull the covers over my head, I couldn’t. I still had to show up for work because there were three months of filming left. I was forced to keep walking and I thank God every day for that. It was a blessing because I could have fallen into a deep depression if I didn’t have something to go toward or the support of friends, strangers, and many others who propped me up whenever I was falling down. Sometimes we need someone to simply be there … not to fix anything or do anything in particular, but just to let us feel we are supported, cared about … and yes, SEEN.

I remember one of my blog entries on the Bravo Web site was simply, “Nobody except the people involved understand the dynamics of a marriage. I hope you understand that I can’t say a lot at this time.” Clearly those words struck a chord with our viewers because I received fifteen hundred responses, most filled with love and support for what I was going through and expressing all that I couldn’t bring myself to say aloud. The messages that bashed Chris only made me feel worse because I knew he must have been getting his share of negative reaction and I didn’t want him to suffer any more than I knew he already was.

My family was also extremely supportive, but when it came time to really being there for me, sadly, they couldn’t completely do it. I really believe they wanted to be there, but sometimes when people go through a hard time or suffer some type of loss, loved ones often retreat because they don’t know how to respond or handle things. People can’t stand being in hospitals or they freak out at the thought of someone they love suffering so they disappear instead of showing up. When Kathleen saw people pulling away from me, she sat me down and said this was the most important time in my life to “go toward the hit.”

“Go toward the hit” is a phrase Kathleen uses often in her work. In an acting scene, going toward the hit is about your ability to perceive what is going on and the caliber of your response. A less-sensitive or skilled actor can shut down, close up, and fall back on automatic pilot. A courageous actor will go toward the hit. Their body physically opens up and you feel their emotion every bit as much as you see it.

In life, when you go toward the hit, you make a choice to show up in a way perhaps others couldn’t or wouldn’t. By doing this, it makes you a willing participant in your life—something I had to learn the hard way. You don’t create hits, but when they come your way, you deal with them head-on and keep going. Deal, and move on.

When it came to my breakup with Chris, my ability to go toward the hit was tested big time. I felt the pain every time he said he didn’t love me or wasn’t attracted to me. Though there were many moments I should have walked away, I didn’t because I was unaware of what he really wanted from our relationship in the first place. Every failed relationship cannot just be the other person’s fault. To be certain, the demise of my relationship with Chris wasn’t just about the things he did—I played a huge hand in sabotaging it, too. And I recognize that now. For me to face that realization meant I’d have to go toward the hit—hard. I’m not saying that what I did was heroic. In fact, it was far from it.

Early on, I decided there would be no bashing Chris publicly for what he had done or said about me. I certainly had the forum to do it, with cameras rolling every day. I could have, but I didn’t. Even in the darkest moments, I chose to protect him. And now, as I share my story with you, I am only sharing my perspective—what it felt like for me. Chris and I have never talked about what this experience was like for him, but I can say with great certainty that I don’t think it was pleasant for him either. He had to learn his own lessons—lessons that hopefully changed his life for the better every bit as much as my lessons changed mine.

A couple of years ago I still couldn’t talk about the breakup of my marriage. The only way I know I can feel good about any of this is to help those of you reading my story, those of you who might be going through something similar, to believe that this, too, shall pass. It would eventually take a lot of help to heal my broken heart, to learn to trust, and to stop thinking I would never be loved again. You cannot avoid being heartbroken in life. God does not give you any more than you can handle. I believe that.

6

Over
and
Beginning
Are the Same Word

When I agreed to
do a reality television show it never occurred to me that my pain and struggles would become someone else’s entertainment. As I was healing from my breakup, Kathleen once said to me, “Don’t block it, go ahead and feel humiliated.” She went on to say something that continues to resonate with me, “Go into battle dead already.”

She told me about a Japanese swordsman who had written a book more than four hundred years ago, who had gone into battle dead already. At the time, he was the premier swordsman in Japan. He said the reason he was so good with his sword was because he had no hesitation during a battle, believing he was dead already. Killing that fear set him free.

To me, humiliation was death. If you acknowledge and tell the truth that you’ve already been humiliated, you have nothing to lose. You’re free to concentrate on the job at hand because you’re not focused on the possible negative outcome.

I used to walk around performing all sorts of crazy, humiliating stunts, like dressing (or undressing in this case!) as a nudist for Halloween or playing a giant rapping lizard, thinking—even believing—that I understood what humiliation really meant.

I didn’t.

When I was the butt of my own jokes, I was in control. But when the breakup of my marriage played out on TV, I had no control over people’s reactions. And, to be certain, the situation was no laughing matter.

Even though the demise of my first marriage took place in front of millions of viewers, it ended up being something I had to go through because, in the end, it forced me to
see
the truth about people I once loved and allowed me to embrace them for who they are and more importantly, are not.

Dear Nanny-Cam,

Thanks!

Love,

Jenni

The night my husband told me our marriage was over, I thought my life was over, too. Everything I believed and lived for was gone—or so I thought. Almost everyone I knew was telling me I would know why I went through this, someday, and with time, things would get better. Although it was hard to understand or see, and to be certain, was really hard to hear in the moment, as time slowly passed, it began to make sense.

My public journey was the best thing that could have happened to me. Though I wish it could have stayed more private, perhaps the public humiliation was the great impetus for me to make some very necessary changes I wouldn’t have otherwise made if I hadn’t been on reality television. I can confess that however painful that period of time was, I wouldn’t change a thing. It turns out my divorce from Chris was a loofah for my life.

I was scrubbed raw.

It was hell.

I survived.

And best of all, I learned that my failures do not define me.

Dear Failure,

I am writing this letter to offer my sincere thanks. I know in the beginning I really didn’t like you at all. To be completely honest, I didn’t find anything remotely attractive about you.