Giudice Teresa - Standing Strong

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Gallery Books

An Imprint of Simon & Schuster, Inc.

1230 Avenue of the Americas

New York, NY 10020

www.SimonaandSchuster.com

Copyright 2017 by Teresa Giudice

All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever. For information, address Gallery Books Subsidiary Rights Department, 1230 Avenue of the Americas, New York, NY 10020.

First Gallery Books hardcover edition October 2017

GALLERY BOOKS and colophon are registered trademarks of Simon & Schuster, Inc.

For information about special discounts for bulk purchases, please contact Simon & Schuster Special Sales at 1-866-506-1949 or .

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Jacket design by John Vairo Jr.

Author photographs by Koury Angelo

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data has been applied for.

ISBN 978-1-5011-7919-8

ISBN 978-1-5011-7920-4 (ebook)

You taught me how to live, how to love, how to laugh, how to dream, and how to smile.

You showed me how to be a mother to my four beautiful angels and to always thank God for all of our blessings.

You picked me up when I fell down, you wiped my tears when I would cry, you were always the first one there for me during the good times, and the last one to leave my side during the bad.

Everything I am or ever will be is because of you.

Without you its not the same.

fino a quando ci incontriamo di nuovo. Per mia madre, Antonia Gorga. ama sempe, tua figlia Teresa

And for once, you just want it to be easy.

To be simple. To be helped. To be saved.

But you know you wont be.

But youre still hoping.

And youre still wishing.

And youre still staying strong and fighting,

with tears in your eyes.

Youre fighting.

Anonymous

I t was just before midnight, and I could barely keep my eyes open.

I was absolutely exhausted.

I was drained physically, emotionally, and spiritually.

I had almost no strength left.

I took two shots of espresso before leaving the house so I didnt fall asleep while driving to the airport to pick up my oldest daughter, Gia, who was returning home with her high school team after a weekend cheerleading competition in Orlando.

Im so proud of all my daughters, but because Gia is the oldest, shes really stepped up and helped out our family in ways that no sixteen-year-old should ever have to. I was so excited to see her, even though itd been only two days.

I blasted the radio in the car so loud it was deafening. Itd been a very long day, but then again, it seemed as if every day was just as long, a virtual repeat of the day before.

I felt like Bill Murray in the movie Groundhog Day.

It was as if I was running on a hamster wheel that never stopped. Around and around I went, running full speed, but I couldnt seem to get ahead. I needed a break, but I couldnt seem to catch one.

The day started for me earlier than most, about twenty-four hours prior, when my seventy-three-year-old father, who now lives with me (more on that later), came into my bedroomnot long after Id returned home from a friends party in Connecticutand woke me up, asking me to take him to the hospital. He had a nosebleed that wouldnt stop and he was also coughing up blood. It wasnt the first time this had happened.

Before we left for the hospital, I woke up my twelve-year-old daughter, Gabriella, and told her I was putting her in charge while I was gone because I had to take Nonno to the hospital.

My poor kids.

Theres always something.

Its as if we have a dark cloud hovering over our house.

I often think to myself, maybe we should move and start over. I fantasize about what life would be like if we picked up and relocated to a place like Kentucky and started from scratch. What if I was no longer Teresa Giudice, reality television star from New Jersey, and I became Teresa Smith, real estate agent from Louisville or Lexington?

What would my new house look like?

What would my new friends be like?

Where would I get my hair done?

Are there any good Italian restaurants in Kentucky?

Would the paparazzi come looking for me?

Would I be happy?

I snapped back to reality, my reality, not what you see on TV, as I walked into the ER with my father. As we sat in the waiting room, which was absolutely freezing, I was rubbing his back affectionately, just like he used to rub mine when I was a little girl and I was sick.

I couldnt believe I was only a few weeks away from my forty-fifth birthday. I couldnt believe Id just buried my mother. I couldnt believe my husband was in prison. I couldnt believe that I went to prison.

My head hurt. My mind was racing. I was literally all over the place, both everywhere and nowhere at the same time. Is that even possible?

Recently a close friend of mine suggested that I go see someone, a therapist, to try and sort things out. I wish I had the time, but sadly I dont. And Im not sure if Id even know where to begin or if it would even help. Are my problems the type that can be solved by sitting across from someone for an hour every week? Lying down on some strangers couch and telling him or her my deepest, darkest secrets. Who are they to judge me? Im not someone who opens up easily. Or, at least I havent been in the past. I guess I just feel like my time would be better spent getting things done for my family.

Around and around on the hamster wheel.

In addition to caring for my seventy-three-year-old father and my four young daughters, I also have to work, work, work, work, work, work like Rihanna to pay the bills and keep things afloat after my husband made a mess of our finances. Such a massive mess that it makes the Exxon Valdez oil spill seem like a glass of spilled red wine (more on that later).

And speaking of my husband...

While I was sitting in the ER waiting for the doctor to examine my father, I checked my phone to find a new message on CorrLinks, the email system used by inmates who are in a federal prison.

My husband, Joe, is currently serving a forty-one-month sentence, but you already know that, just like you know that I spent eleven and a half months of my life inside a federal prison camp for women in Danbury, Connecticut. (And if you didnt know that, you should read my last book, Turning the Tables.)