Hand in Marriage

According to the stats-counter on my website, I’m occasionally searched as “Adele Uddo gay?” Guess the pussycat’s out of the bag. Believe it or not, I grew up straight  – at least this lifetime. My friend, Sarah, and I were once told by a nutty naturopath that we were “gay lovers” in some other century.

…but getting back to this incarnation…. After years of searching my soul, and enduring a few maddening relationships, I finally found a great man, fell madly in love and plunged into that thing I thought I’d avoid altogether: MARRIAGE.

Granted it wasn’t quite my first time…

People repeat the same cliché about finding love: “You’ll know when it’s right.” Surely, I thought, someone as complex as I would never simply ‘know’…but I did. There was something special about being with Chris that felt different from other relationships. There was a deep sense of mutual caring and comfort I hadn’t known before. I felt both safe and passionate, a combo I didn’t think was possible.

My husband wouldn’t hurt a fly – or an ant apparently, as I’ve watched, perplexed and amazed, as he sweeps them up gently to transport them outdoors.

Unfortunately, I can’t say I’m accustomed to such a gentle soul as Chris. On our first date, when he told me he meditates and does yoga, and my first inclination was to silently question his sexual orientation (not that any of my gay friends are yoga/meditation enthusiasts).

Prior to Chris, my type was short, dark and angry – sort of an Eminem meets Bella Lugosi. Thankfully, Chris comes without a Napoleon Complex and is anything but angry. To this day, I’ve not seen him punch a house, throw furniture, or tell me what a piece of shit I am for having an opinion that differs from his.

By all accounts, I hit pure gold in the world of bachelors. Chris is kind, he’s clean (as in tidy and drug-free), he’s hot, he’s had therapy, and while he doesn’t cook, he can afford a meal a few steps above the salad bar at Sizzler. Best of all, he doesn’t threaten to beat me. Woohoo! Who knew?

So what’s the problem, Choid? The bastard android of all things negative in my head has searched high and low for the impending disaster that will inevitably befall me at the hands of my prince. Yet, so far, this sadistic Martian hasn’t been able to discern any substantial stand-out issues with my husband (and believe me, he’s tried).

When Chris and I first met, Choid attempted to warn me away, but couldn’t compile a case beyond: he’s not handy, he has big weird toes and chapped lips, he loses his keys…

…and lord knows, he’s got to be a player! There was no evidence of the last allegation, other than: cute, well-dressed guy living near Hollywood, whose former hairdresser’s husband is married to a rock star and owns a popular lounge in Washington DC…. Need I say more?!

By now, logic would lead me to know that my husband is no whore, and yet, it’s as if I’m waiting for the script of my life to soon read: “Enter Angelina.”

Wondering where I picked up such paranoia? Let me introduce my hot-blooded bloodline….

 

*If subscribed to the email feed, click title at bottom of window to play video (or go to blog page)

My Hot Blooded Bloodline from Adele Uddo on Vimeo.

*Video edited by Tom Vanasse

 

While Choid’s been hell bent on finding fault with Chris, he’s ironically made many excuses for former men in my life. You see, if there’s no problem for Choid to fix, he’s out of a job. Therefore, Choid is partial to guys who insure a juicy drama, like the last MAD man I loved, who had no friends or job (or sense of humor), and scared small children…but boy did he make a mean pesto!

As amazing as my husband is, I’m still waiting for Happily Ever After to kick in…. Somewhere along the way, I assumed the not-so-bright belief that upon meeting my magic man, all pain would suddenly disappear like a rabbit from a hat (which it did, for the first year and a half).

Sure, I bought into what books and fairytales say about romantic love…

These naïve notions, which I still cling tightly to, are a bit bewildering considering the relationships I observed as a child seemed to bring more suffering than eternal bliss.

Sure my mom and dad loved each other…

…not long before they realized they hated each other.

My parent’s partnership was the bane of much mutual misery. I was first made aware of my mother’s grief as soon as we left New Orleans. In the back of the Mars Hotel bus I received the dramatic download that caused her to cry constantly and hightail it out of town:

“When I first met ya’ dad Deli, I made him laugh all the time. He loved me fa’ me. Then women start askin’ me, ‘Who’s ya’ husband with ta’night?’ I tried…I LOVED him…I still love him. Didn’t matter that ya’ dad wets the bed…but somehow he managed to piss on ME every night!”

My seven-year old psyche wasn’t able to fully comprehend the weight of her words, but more often than not, when she cried, I cried along with her. Of all our weepy exchanges, one moment sticks out above all. With a tear-stained face, she looked at me and said something I’ll never forget:

“Deli, we are on a journey to find LOVE.”

After a few seconds, she broke her gaze, threw her arms to the sky and cried out, “Not lies!”

What did she mean we were on a journey to find love? Is love something you find? I thought we already had love in New Orleans. Then what the heck is love? And why do we have take this stinkin’ bus to find it?

I certainly feel as though I found love in my relationship with Chris. I suppose, I also expected a lifetime of Happily to follow.

I wouldn’t say I’m unhappy, I’m just…still searching for some missing peace. Being in a ‘healthy’ relationship has certainly put me more in touch with the rather dysfunctional relationship I have with ME. When I no longer had someone to fight with, the war within became louder than ever.

Since knowing Chris, I’ve become ever more aware of where I could give myself a break, and a little more love. In fact, Choid has tried repeatedly to convince me that I don’t deserve solid support.

Somewhere along the way, I linked love with pain, and so I’ve expected commitment to come with a hefty side of suffering. The war I survived years ago is long over, and yet I still find myself occasionally bracing for battle. Perhaps I’m simply finding my way within a very different definition of love.

Lately I’ve been asking myself the question: What is true happiness, and what gets in the way of genuine joy? I know…who do I think I am, the Deli Lama?

When Brad Pitt, a man assumed by many to have an all-access pass on the path to pleasure, was asked recently if he was happy, he shrugged with ambiguity and said, “Happiness is overrated.”

Apparently the US is one of the least “happy” countries in the world. Ahhh…such relief to know my misery has the company of a continent. Within a culture of material comforts, anti-depressants drugs are prescribed permanently, addiction runs rampant and violent crime is considered an unfortunate but normal part of the status quo.

For all we’ve acquired from the Western lifestyle, happiness is apparently less tangible than our technology. Surely, if happiness was so simple, someone would’ve found the formula and packaged it by now – trust me, I’m in the business of selling “happiness” to millions.

For me, I believe more happiness will follow once I find a greater Love. Be it a deeper connection with divinity, or a more intimate relationship to my own heart.

For many years, I’ve wished to find within myself an everlasting love, the kind of love that doesn’t retreat so easily or have an army of defenses protecting its perceived vulnerability – the kind of love that has more than enough to give, and doesn’t decide who’s worthy or when. Perhaps the greatest yearning is also the biggest challenge.

Following in the footsteps of my wildly brave mother who set off on a similar journey long ago, I will continue the quest to find love. And like my Demon DNA, I will work with my demons along the way.

Landing in love with Chris has allowed me an opportunity to cultivate within myself the care I crave. No mortal can save me from certain suffering (nor can I salvage another soul).  Lasting happiness doesn’t come from anyone or anything. For me, it’s found in the exquisite moments when I really look into my husband’s eyes, or cackle loudly with a friend, or notice a tree whose branches are tied in gorgeous knots, reaching for the sky…

I can’t imagine anyone better for me than Chris to walk the path of marriage. This partnership continues to make us grow in ways I never expected. Being happy is my responsibility – for the keys to contentment are ultimately found in my own hands.

“If we are to have true peace in this world, each of us must find it in ourselves first.” –Daily Om

With every part and all my heart,
Adele

*Recently, I’ve begun focusing on my book, hoping one day to FINISH the damn thing. If you don’t hear from me as much, please know I’ll reemerge eventually, with more to share. I send you all my most sincere gratitude for the support you continue to show me. Peace and love my friends xo