Just Leave!

Poor judgment and billboards

I’m in a café, sipping coffee that tastes like burnt hope, looking at the art on the walls … and one of the paintings looks very familiar.

That’s because it’s one of my paintings.

One I didn’t finish and never intended to show anyone because I didn’t like it.

It had the name of the man I was living with at the time. His name. On my art. For sale. No permission from me. Surprise! And not a good one.

This was a pretty good sign that my judgment in men sucked. But I stayed, because … he was a drummer. The painting ironically sold, now with my name on it.

But then came the sketches he brought home. Nudes, not drawn at a human figure class, but at strip club. So they are not in human figure drawing positions. They were in suggestive positions. It felt sleazy. He seemed sleazy, I grew .. queasy. This was another item for the minus column but as I look back, it’s clear I had a tad-bit of dependency and self-esteem issues because I stayed.

He was also a mortgage broker, one of those who ushered in the financial apocalypse in the early 2000s, casually asking me to make fake business cards for people without actual businesses. I declined, disgusted. So now his pro and con list… looked like this:

Pros: He likes me ... and is a drummer.

Cons: He is a con.

It was obvious but I needed help for courage to leave, so I went to a therapist to help me make the world’s most obvious decision. She said, “Professionally, I’m not supposed to say this, but you should leave this man.”

You’d think I’d pack up right then, but I was creatively avoiding what I didn’t want to do so I thought, “I know what I need, a sign from the universe!” So I outsourced the issue to the universe for advice.

Driving downtown in my white VW, I asked.. the universe, “Should I leave him?” and at that moment, at that VERY moment, a billboard popped up that said:

Not kidding. I laughed in disbelief. It said it was a billboard for Las Vegas, but really … it was for me. I drove around the block to make sure it wasn’t a hallucination. JUST LEAVE was still there. Unfortunately, so was I.

The next week, this man that was so wrong for me and I were sitting in our hammock together and it broke. As metaphors go, it doesn’t get clearer than that.

I left.

Not long enough after this, I moved in with a man who it turned out, had rage issues. Who can blame him: sometimes I didn’t use my blinker. And once, I forgot to sweep the floor and he stepped on a crumb!! He wanted a dinner-ready, domestic goddess; I wanted to write books and maybe remember to eat a sandwich.

I went to another therapist, and I’m not making this up, she also said, “I’m not supposed to say this, but you should leave.” I felt like licensed professionals were selling me black‑market advice.

I really was supposed to JUST LEAVE

We lived on a hill in Ramona. When I didn’t leave immediately, my car took the matter in its own wheels, and drove down the steep driveway … without me. The message was: “If you won’t leave, I’ll do it for you.” My car was still intact so I could make a getaway, but a month went by so … my car rolled down a second time to make its point and this time totaled .

Fine. Message received. You might think my car did this because I didn’t set the brake, twice … and you would be right. But ironically it was forgetting to set the brake that inspired me to make a break. Or maybe that’s not irony, just a pun. Nevertheless, I got a new car and JUST LEFT.

I stayed solo for 13 years, self-worth rallying, focusing on writing, illustrating, and teaching, becoming pretty damn independent. Along the way, if I did meet someone, I was overly cautious but still outsourced to the universe. I decoded every sign like a cosmic message. If there was a rainbow after I met with someone, songs on the radio, and coincidences I interpreted it as “Yes, I can take a chance on him.” But the rainbows faded, lyrics contradicted themselves, the coincidences were foiled by truth, as they should be.

Then one day, a tall man with a deep voice sat at my table at a café. There were no rainbows, no lyrics, just a cappuccino with good foam. But there was also a feeling that for once, the math worked out; the pro column overflowed: kind, funny, talented, and smart. Plays the trumpet.

This time the sign came from inside the house. I’d finally tuned into the frequency that mattered: a feeling as big as a billboard, that said: Just stay.

And I did. We got married, and are living happily ever… separately, because we both are a tad bit independent. Artists, you know.

Today is his birthday, Happy Birthday Robin Brisebois.

With love,

Jill