It's Not Okay: Turning Heartbreak into Happily Never After (36 page)

“Cheers to your new adventure,” she toasts.

“Cheers to our friendship!”

We clink the glasses and sip on the bubbly as we continue to reminisce and talk about the Big Apple.

It dawns on me that this new venture is my first step in my own adaptation phase. I’ve cleansed out the toxins, I’ve replaced them with healthy nutrients. And now here I am choosing to live a life free from the toxins that once paralyzed me. Could it be that I have finally, successfully finished my first detox? (Other than the fact that Kelly and I are sipping champagne, I think so!)

An hour later, my parents arrive to take me to the airport. I schlep the suitcases through the living room and out to the driveway, where my dad hoists them into the back of his SUV. I say my final goodbye to Kelly, though we both know it’s hardly the last she’ll see of me. It’s only a twenty-minute drive to the airport, but it feels so much longer as my dad drives and my mom and I sit together in the backseat holding hands. I’m desperately trying to avoid bursting out in a sob. The truth is, I’m terrified about this new chapter of my life, but I don’t want my parents to know that. I don’t want them to have to worry about me. I want them to feel like I’m going to be okay, that I am strong enough to make it in the big city, that I can do this! But, deep down, I know it isn’t my parents that need convincing of all of this, it’s me.
I
don’t know if I will be okay and make it in the big city. I don’t know if I can really do this. There’s probably about a fifty-fifty chance that within a month I’ll get eaten alive, or freeze to death. Hell, I fear that I might not even last a month. But I can’t let them see my fear. It’s important for me to keep a brave face. It’s important, because it’s time.

The ride is filled with small talk and my mother making plans to visit within a matter of weeks. Though she says it with excitement, I see a sadness in her teary eyes and hear the worry in her cracking voice. She’s trying to hold it together, we both are. I catch a glance of my father in the rearview mirror and can see what he’s thinking in his eyes. He’s scared too. His youngest daughter has been through the ringer, she’s still delicate and now she’s moving a thousand miles away where he can’t protect her. But he knows he has to let me go.

We arrive at the airport, and my father begins to unload my bags and hand them to the curbside check-in attendant.

“Where to?” he asks.

“New York City,” I respond and hand him my Georgia driver’s license.

He slaps orange tags that read heavy on my suitcases and hands me my boarding pass. I’m all set. I’ve made it to the airport and my bags have made it out of the car. Now all that’s left is for me to get on the plane. But first, I have to say goodbye to my parents. Just like with Kelly, I know this isn’t my final goodbye to them. Heck, my mom will probably come visit me before I’ve unpacked all my stuff. But I can’t help but think that this is the last time I’ll ever seem them again, as this person. For better or worse, New York will change me.

I hug my mother first, and as I let go, I see the tears she’s been holding back streaming down her face. I wipe them away before drying my own. I lean in for another hug. I don’t want to let go. I turn to my father, who isn’t one to cry, but with tears welled up in his eyes, he’s pretty close to losing it. Finally, the three of us embrace in one big final hug.

With my bags checked and my ticket in hand, I say goodbye and head toward the sliding double doors of Hartsfield-Jackson International Airport. The scene is all too familiar. Just a year and a half ago, I was walking through these same doors, looking back at my parents and joking that the next time they see me I could be engaged. And now here I am, having done that, and off to my next adventure. As I enter through the doors, I look back one last time, to see my dad with his arm draped around my mom’s shoulder as they stand by the car. I take a deep breath and wave goodbye. The doors close.

After I make my way through security and to my gate, I find an empty corner chair looking out at the runway and take a seat. I put on my sunglasses and begin to cry. I don’t know exactly why I’m crying. I feel an overwhelming sense of fear, but also an odd sense of freedom and relief and most of all excitement. But all of it seems to be overcome by anxiety. I tell myself what I’m feeling is natural considering I am literally a two-hour plane ride away from starting a new chapter of my life, without a clue as to what it holds.

The gate attendant comes over the loudspeaker and informs us that the plane will begin boarding shortly. There’s no turning back now. This is happening. This is the next step on a journey that I’ve taken in the past year and a half, a journey that has shown me not only a whole new world but also a whole new me. A weaker one at times, but a stronger one at others. I never expected my world to come crashing down the way it did, but then again, I never expected my world to take off the way it did either. Sure, there will be moments when I will reminisce about the past, and I’ll feel everything from anger, to sadness, to forgiveness and strength. There will be times where I’ll still feel damaged, but isn’t that just how it goes? Life isn’t just sunshine and roses, we can’t truly have the sweet without the bitter.

At the end of the day, my engagement is over. My reality television days are behind me and so is the city I’ve called home for almost all my life. I am emotionally and physically moving on from a life, from a relationship, and from a version of myself that I didn’t like. But the point is, I’m moving on from it. Maybe that’s the gift that comes with hitting rock bottom; you get a chance to be a phoenix and rise from the ashes. Sure, the way down sucks, it’s sad and comes with unremitting pain, until suddenly you can’t get any lower, you can’t hurt any more, and you can’t go anywhere but up.

I walk down the Jetway and board the plane. I take my window seat, lifting up the shade, and watch as the luggage gets loaded into the plane. Finally, we push back. The plane begins to accelerate and we are wheels up. I continue staring out the window, this time glancing at the city below me. It’s the city I once called home, where so many memories were made. The city where that one casting call changed my life forever. It’s the city where I thought I would spend the rest of my life with the man I had fallen so deeply in love with. The city that I am now leaving behind. As the plane climbs higher and higher, the buildings of downtown Atlanta get smaller and smaller until finally, all I can see is a sheet of clouds. My old home has vanished from sight.

A tear falls from my eye and I pull down the shade. I recline in my seat and close my eyes. I smile as I envision the new city that awaits me. It’s the city that will be the setting for yet another chapter in my story. A story that has so many pages written, yet so many still waiting to be written. And though there are plenty of mysteries and possibilities that come with each new chapter, I plan to greet each of them with an open heart, a healed heart, and most of all, a heart that will forever believe in love.

Because no matter how bad it gets, no matter how tumultuous and painful the end of a relationship can be, no matter how much you think your life is over and you are forever damaged, there comes a moment when you find that the storm has finally passed. The sunshine has dried up all the rain, and you, my friend, have survived. It’s the moment where you look at the scar that came from heartbreak, and see it not as a scar of weakness but as a scar of resiliency and strength. It’s the moment when you finally realize that maybe, just maybe, it
is
okay.

This is that moment.

—The Beginning—

There are so many people I’d like to thank for not only helping me with this book but helping me through the many discombobulated chapters of my life.

First off, to everyone who makes up “Bachelor Nation,” thank you, thank you, thank you. I can say with 100 percent certainty that this book would have never happened without you! To the fans, thank you for your incredible show of love and loyalty, not only to me, but to every person who has graced your television screen on Monday nights. Though I will never feel worthy of your immeasurable support, I will forever be grateful for it. To everyone who worked on the show—from producers, to casting directors, to the entire crew—I thank you for taking a chance on a gal from Atlanta, Georgia, and giving her such an unbelievable and life-changing adventure.

To my family, you are my rock, my world, my happiness. Mama, thank you for being the coolest grandmother and allowing me to share my dirty secrets with you. Rachel and Elie, thank you for keeping my secrets and also keeping Mom and Dad from going insane throughout this entire experience. Dad, thank you for not disowning me as your daughter after what I’ve put you through these past few years. I swear to you, I will never make out on national television again. Lastly, Mom, there are no words capable of justly describing the insurmountable love and appreciation I have for you, so I will just say this . . . thank you for having been and always being “my person.”

Thank you to all of my girlfriends who got me through one of the darkest times in my life. Though my misery may have been an excuse to drink copious amounts of wine, it’s a misery I overcame thanks to you. Kelly, I will never be able to express my gratitude for you. Without hesitation, you took me into your home, and more importantly, your heart, never asking anything in return. You are the epitome of generous, the definition of selfless, and a friend I am beyond grateful to have.

To “Team It’s Not Okay,” especially Kirsten Neuhaus and Sulay Hernandez, thank you for making this crazy idea for a book a reality. A special thank you to everyone at Simon & Schuster and Gallery Books, including Jen Bergstrom, Kristin Dwyer, Meagan Harris, Liz Psaltis, Diana Velasquez, and Lisa Litwack—thank you for having my back through this entire process and being the baddest group of women in the entire publishing world. Abby Zidle, you are the most trusting, enthusiastic, and brilliant editor in the world, and I am the luckiest woman to be able to call you my boss. Thank you for taking such good care of my firstborn child.

And last but not least, thank you to every ex-boyfriend of mine. For better or worse, each of you taught me some of life’s most valuable lessons, which have inspired me to change for the better and come to the realization that sometimes it’s the broken roads that lead to the most beautiful destinations.

ANDI DORFMAN
starred on season 10 of
The Bachelorette
and was a finalist on season 18 of
The Bachelor
.

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