Guest Blog By: Jai Green
My name is Whitney Hightower and I am a mess. My mother thought she was setting me up for greatness when she named me Whitney after the great Whitney Houston in the winter of 1983. If she looks at my life now she will probably conclude that she did a great job. Born 7 1/2 pounds with hazel eyes, curly hair, and olive skin im sure she thanked god a million times. A woman so beautiful but hated the skin she was in, she took what she thought as precautions to ensure i had the best life possible. And I tried to play the part as best as I could. I wasn’t this beauty queen she had hoped for. Instead I was the “Ugly Duckling” tomboy who haunted her. I climbed trees, skinned my knees, had very bad acne from eating to much greasy foods and chocolate, and hated dresses. I had daddy issues because of the divorce and my mother supplementing her sad life by making me her best friend and telling me things I didn’t need to hear about their life, her life, their issues. But that didn’t bother her. All she ever cared about was what you could see on the outside. In my 30 years of age now I guess it was a defense mechanism for her. ” Never let them see you cry, always dress to the nine when you are feeling ill or down”, her words would echo throughout my life forming the Whitney that everyone knows today. From the outside looking in I am perfection. A nurse practitioner dating a surgeon, attractive in appearance, ambitious, and a philanthropist. Women want to be me, men want to date me. So why am I a mess?
Have you ever heard people say she’s a beautiful shell? If so, they were talking about me. Here I am, a Baylor graduate, financially stable. You would think I had it all. I grew out of the ugly duckling stage and blossomed into a beautiful swan. But inside I am empty. I have trust issues. This is my 5th relationship with a man of the same caliber. I like to date powerful, ambitious, arrogant men. Its somethings about them that I love. But they aren’t good for me. Two creative people don’t belong together. Its not conducive for the long term. I think about this and I say. I am my mothers child. My mother was powerful, ambitious, and creative, but she let a man strip her of all of that. She let my father take her down right before my eyes. He was her kryptonite and I promised myself that I would never end up like her. I would never be that woman who begs for a man to stay in my life. To chase a man. To give him 100 percent of me. And that logic, that way of thinking has me in my fifth relationship. I have as of yet to find my balance. For men are also my kryptonite. They knock me off my axis. They take from me that THING that I have that allows me to be me, and I allow it. I am full of insecurities that you could never imagine possible. I am spoiled and feel entitled.
Watching Eric perform surgery was like watching a miracle. People who know little about medical tend to think there is a book you go by to save lives. Its not like that at all. Every surgery is unique to its patient. You have to create and innovate and to watch him perform was like watching magic take place. He was so creative, he stayed up day and night thinking about the best possible way to perform the surgery catered to his patient’s needs. That meant something to me. It turned me on actually. One of my favorite movies is RAY starring Jamie Fox. One of my favorite scenes was when Margie (Head singer of the Raylettes) is in the room with Ray while he is using. He tells her he doesn’t want her to use. She looks at him and tells him how hes on another level when he performs and she just wants to be apart of that creativity, that magic, that THING he has. It was the same with Eric and I. The problem is we have nothing in common. I’m not even sure we like each other. All we ever do is argue, fight, and have sex. It seems like we are never on the same page. What bothers me doesn’t bother him. What is important to him isn’t important to me. But I love him. I love him with all of me. I need him in my life. If I ever attempt ( which I have multiple times) to leave it paralyzes me. I am stuck, in this horrific pain that doesn’t allow me to move. I mentioned 4 other relationships but none of them came close to what this one is to me. Ever week we fight, we argue, I pack everything I have in his condo and I attempt to leave. I can’t focus at work, and everything keeps me on edge. I am a mess an I don’t know how to remedy this sickness that I have. This sickness, weakness I call love. The same love I had for my father who was rarely around after I turned 9. Abandonment issues, attachment issues. They are all wrapped up in the perfect shell, this perfect woman.
Women like me aren’t supposed to visit therapist. Women like me aren’t supposed to contemplate suicide. Women like me aren’t supposed to take meds for depression. Women like me aren’t supposed to be a mess. But I am. I am a mess. I am a complete mess. And everyday I am slipping further and further away. I fear that If I don’t take care of whats broken inside of me, I am going to end up pushing everything and everyone I love away from me. You might feel like I am weak. Like I am a complainer. You would be right. There are a lot of people who feel like I am the problem in the world and I totally agree. Can you relate?