True Love Deluxe Page 2

  I looked around the table at all these people I loved: my dad, my babies, Tiana, my cousins, my aunt, Benny.

  “You make your choices in life, and these people right here,” he said, “these people are the family that will get you through. They are your rock.”

  “You make your choices in life, and these people right here,” he said, “these people are the family that will get you through. They are your rock.”

  As he spoke, I began to see that I did have people around me who supported and loved me unconditionally and had always been there. Families come in all shapes and sizes, and they don’t have to fit the perfect dream ideal to make you happy. They are the people that support and love you by giving you strength when you need it the most.

  As I looked around the table, it hit me; he was right. I felt the love. I felt that family. And I knew I was blessed.

  I hoped that he was right about something else too. He said, “As painful as some of the past year’s changes have been, they will ultimately lead to a better place. The adversity you come across in life may cause pain, but with pain comes growth and the opportunity to rise to the occasion as your strongest, best self.”

  There was nothing I needed more in that moment than the encouragement and the hope of a better day.

  Benny’s speech gave me that beautiful gift.

  NEW DREAM

  In my family, when I was growing up, divorce was not an option. My parents stayed together for thirty-three years, through thick and thin and everything in between. So when I married Marc, having already been through the disappointment of two divorces and a broken engagement, I wanted so much for our marriage to be “it.” I was determined to make it last, no matter what. And once we had kids, I was even more determined. I was never going to give up on this love.

  Tried to be someone I knew that I wasn’t

  I thought I could make myself happy with you

  —“NEVER GONNA GIVE UP”

  Marc was my guy, the one. The father of my children, the man I was going to grow old with. I believed that with all my heart . . . until I finally realized, in the months leading up to that day in the desert, that it wasn’t meant to be. I wasn’t listening to my own inner voice, and now my body and soul were physically telling me that I could no longer be there. I couldn’t deny the truth anymore. I had to do something about it.

  When I think back on it, years earlier I had reached a similar moment in my career. It was during a time when I was getting to do things that I had hardly let myself dream about when I was a little girl. Platinum albums, movie roles opposite Jack Nicholson, George Clooney, Sean Penn . . . I felt like I was doing it on my own terms, but actually, I wasn’t.

  I was mainly following the advice of managers, record executives, and stylists. They had the best of intentions, but because I wasn’t also listening to myself, I ended up caring more and more about what they wanted and how I was perceived by the public and the media than what I knew was right for me as an artist. Instead of measuring my success and value by my own standards, I was measuring it by how others perceived me.

  Because I was so used to being seen as that woman in the tabloids, the Hollywood diva, I forgot what it was like to be known as myself. It’s vital to be in touch with who you are at your core and not to lose yourself in the hustle. I had always wanted to believe that my public image didn’t affect my feelings of self-worth—but unfortunately, that wasn’t always the case. If you keep hearing negative things about yourself, they start to seep into your consciousness and you start to feel like they’re true. They cloud who you know you really are and you can lose yourself.

  I was being painted in a way that wasn’t me because I wasn’t taking control of the situation. I was so wrapped up in keeping up with my schedule and giving people what they wanted that I neglected to ask myself what I wanted. I spent a lot of energy living up to those expectations and I lost my own sense of direction along the way.

  When I first started my career, I always made my decisions on my own; I always knew what was best for me. I didn’t have anyone telling me what to do or where to go. I followed my heart, followed my instincts, and listened to my gut. Because the truth is, nobody knows what’s best for you better than you do. You have to really sit still and ask yourself: What do I want? Does this feel right? What should I do? I realized I had to go back and do what I had always done. Listening to my gut was just as important as listening to the advice of others, and only I knew what was best for me.

  That’s why now, whenever someone asks me, “What is the one piece of advice you would give an artist who is starting out and wants to do what you do?”

  My answer is always: “Listen to yourself; listen to your gut. Because only you know what’s right for you.”

  That’s what being an artist is all about. Your power is in your individuality, in being exactly who you are. No two artists are alike, just like no two people are alike. That’s why there is no competition in artistry. It’s not about being the best or the biggest, the king or the queen. That notion is so ridiculous. That competition or comparison is actually the exact opposite of what being an artist is. As an artist, you should be in competition with only one person—yourself. You can’t worry about what others are doing or saying. You have to keep that focus and stay true to who you are in order to be creative and make the best decisions.

  As an artist, you should be in competition with only one person—yourself.

  So when I came to a point where my relationship simply wasn’t feeling right, I knew what I needed to do. If I turned down the noise from the rest of the world—critics, fans, friends, even family—and if I really listened to myself, what would I hear?

  I had to ask myself that question. So just like I took control of my career in that crucial moment, now I needed to take control of my life.

  “You make your choices in life,” Benny had said in his toast. Now that my marriage was over and my life was going in a different direction than I’d thought, I had another choice to make, and this time I was determined to make it for myself. I began to ask: What’s next? What new dream am I going to build now? In the days following that Christmas dinner, this was the question I kept coming back to. I simply couldn’t ignore it.

  CONQUERING THE WORLD

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  By January first, I had faced my worst fear: the breakup of our seemingly perfect family. Reality was setting in, and I needed to figure out how to make it all work. I was a single mom now: How am I going to do this? Can I do this? Can I be their everything? Will I ever be able to fill that hole for them? Can just Mommy ever be enough? It was daunting and, at times, depressing to realize that I didn’t always have the answers. It was even scarier to think that maybe I never would. But I couldn’t stop to think about that now. I had to see it through. Even in my weakest moments, the moments when I doubted myself the most, my babies needed me. I had to be strong.

  I don’t know what it is about me, but for better or for worse, in the face of doubt or change, I get these crazy ideas—don’t ask me why—that I should challenge myself beyond my normal limits and do something I’ve never done before. I guess, subconsciously, it’s about distracting myself from the difficulty and pain of the moment. Example: After I had the kids—talk about a big change—I really felt like I’d lost my mojo. I was exhausted, out of shape, and I felt like a beached whale. So what did I do? I decided to do a triathlon! Now, understand, I had never done a triathlon before. I had run a 10K when I was twelve, but never anything close to a triathlon.

  On the morning of the race, as I was standing there surrounded by a thousand paparazzi, about to jump into the ocean, I realized that this probably wasn’t the best idea I ever had. All I could see was a buoy five hundred meters out, and the only thing blocking its view were the waves crashing toward me. The one prayer I kept saying over and over again was: “Please, God, I have
two babies. Please let me survive this incredibly stupid thing I decided to do.” But when the gun went off, I instinctually ran toward the ocean and jumped in. I faced my fear, and when I crossed that finish line, I felt invincible. I’d gotten my mojo back. I felt like I could do anything.

  Now it was happening again. After a reflective Christmas and a New Year’s I’d been trying to make the best of, it was one in the afternoon and I was lying in bed all by myself, staring at the ceiling. And then it hit me. One of those crazy ideas popped into my head. I picked up the phone to call Benny. The conversation went a little like this:

  “Benny! I know what I want to do,” I said.

  “Yeah?” he responded.

  And in a quiet, determined tone that Benny has come to know means I’ve had a revelation, I said: “I have to tour this year. That’s what we have to do.”

  “Really?” said Benny. He paused for a moment. Benny had wanted this for years. I awaited his response: “Okay . . . Let’s do it,” he finally said.

  “Okay, then!” I said. “Let’s do it.”

  “Okay cool . . .”

  “Great! I’m excited,” I said.

  “I’m excited too,” he said.

  I hung up. End call.

  What the hell had I done? Oh. My. God. What now?

  PAAAAANIIIIIICCCCC!!!!

  See? It was working! I was no longer focused on my sadness; my thoughts were somewhere else, on the colossal challenge I had put on myself of building my “new dream.” Something that would take me through five continents, sixty-five cities, four hundred and sixty-two wardrobe changes, and five hundred thousand sequins (I hoped): my first ever world tour.

  Despite what many people might think, I had never done a tour before. And, on top of it all, I was about to do it as a single mom, with two kids in tow.

  SET LIST

  Intro: “Never Gonna Give Up”

  “Get Right”

  “Love Don’t Cost a Thing”

  “I’m Into You”

  “Waiting for Tonight”

  I was sad. I was heartbroken. I was scared.

  But it was only through adversity that I found my saving graces.

  Sometimes they came from unexpected sources—a song, a challenge, or a friend.

  It was my responsibility to make the most of them, apply them to my life, act on them, and rise to the occasion.

  NEVER GONNA GIVE UP

  BECAUSE I HAD never done a solo tour before, I wanted to get it just right. I wanted to tell a story, to open myself up to people, to give them what they’d been waiting to see. I made my first record back in 1999, which meant that some people had been waiting thirteen years for me to come and do a show. I wanted to do all the hits for them; I wanted them to feel it had been worth the wait.

  If I was going to do this, I’d have to work incredibly hard, and my goal was not only to grow as an artist, but also as a person. A part of me was petrified to take it on, as I knew there was a possibility that it might not turn out right. Yet part of me was so drawn by the fantasy of it. What would I do creatively if I could do anything at all? What songs would I choose? How would I express myself as an artist? And more important: What was I going to wear? Who would make my costumes? This could actually be a lot of fun! In designing the tour, I suddenly had this empty canvas that I could paint however I liked. But as with any blank canvas, facing it was both exciting and daunting. Where do I begin? What do I want to say? What is my message? I needed a concept to start with.

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  THE GIFT OF SONG

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  Right before my breakup, Enrique Iglesias called to say he wanted to do a duet with me. He sent me a song and we recorded it, but after he listened to it, he told me, “It’s not a big enough hit. If you and I do a song together, it has to be a smash. I’m sending you another song.”

  He sent me a song called “Dance Again.” By then, a couple of months had gone by and Marc and I had just split up. I was dying inside, feeling lonely and miserable and sad. I don’t remember the song’s exact original lyrics, but it had the chorus, “I want to dance . . . and love . . . and dance again.” All I could think was, “Oh my God, that’s what I want. I want to dance and love and dance again too.”

  I needed that song. I was at a moment in my life where I felt like I might not be happy ever again. That line expressed everything I was feeling.

  I’m a dancer—that’s who I am. I’m most happy and free and alive when I’m dancing. I wanted to get back to that feeling, that person. I wanted to feel happiness again. I wanted to feel love again. And that’s what music does. Music is a declaration of what life is and what you want it to be.

  And the sentiment of that song . . . was something I wanted to declare to the world.

  This was my song.

  Oops—record scratch.

  Except it wasn’t my song. It was Enrique’s.

  I said to Benny, “Enrique wants to do this as a duet, but I think it would work better if I did it alone. I can’t just ask him to let me have it for my record, right?”

  Benny said, “Well, I can. Let me talk to him.” I don’t know exactly what he said, but in the end, Enrique gave me the song.

  As fate would have it, Enrique and I wound up doing the US leg of the tour together. I’ll never forget opening night in New York. Enrique came up to me at the end of the show, after seeing people’s response to “Dance Again.” He looked me in the eyes and said, “Jennifer, you were right. That really is your song.”

  When Enrique gave me that song, he gave me a powerful gift. In some ways, every song is like that, because music is a gift in itself. When you listen to the right tune, and the lyrics express your soul’s truest feelings, it lifts you up—it’s a beautiful thing. I’d felt it as a young girl, listening to songs on the radio. And now, as an artist, to be able to make that music and sing it—sing it for myself, sing it for others—is one of my biggest blessings from God.

  When you listen to the right tune, and the lyrics express your soul’s truest feelings, it lifts you up—it’s a beautiful thing.

  I remember Puffy once saying to me while I was making my very first album, “Be careful what you sing, be careful what you record because it can define you.” Music is very powerful. It goes out into the universe, and it takes on an energy; it becomes part of your story. That’s why I would never record anything that’s too negative or too depressing—because that’s not what I want my life to be about. Music isn’t just songs, it’s your life as an artist. In many ways, you sing your future. I believed that and it always rang true with me. At this moment in my life, on a very visceral level, I wanted to dance again and I wanted to love again so I wanted to sing about it. I feel like every song I’ve recorded has been given to me in some way—every song has come to me at the right moment. And now, with Enrique’s gift, I felt that way again.

  Once I had the song, everything flowed from there. We named the new greatest hits record Dance Again, and when we released the single, it made it to the top ten in countries all over the world. Everything became about that message.

  The Dance Again World Tour was born.

  I wanted to dance again . . . and for the first time, I was about to do it all over the world.

  JUMPING IN

  The truth was, I had planned to do a world tour three or four times in the past. We’d do all the planning and get all the way to the stage where we were making the deals—and then I’d get a part in a movie. A tour you can move around, but when a movie comes up, it shoots when it shoots, and you’re either in or you’re out. So we would always say, “Okay, let’s move the tour dates.” And then somehow, even though we meant only to postpone, it always ended up falling apart. But because my records kept selling, even without the tours
to support them, nobody seemed to mind that they weren’t happening.

  Many people seemed to doubt I could actually do a tour. Never having done one, I have to admit, I wasn’t sure either. Would I have the stamina to be on the road so long? Could I really sing live and dance and do all those shows all those nights in a row? Would my voice hold up? Would it be too much for the kids?

  Over the following weeks, I’d call Benny and say, “Listen, forget what I said. This isn’t the right time.” He’d try to calm me, and sometimes it worked and sometimes it didn’t. We went back and forth, talking and thinking and weighing it all out. The tour was on; the tour was off. In my heart I knew I could do it, but my brain kept pulling me back.

  As I considered the reality of doing this tour, I remembered a peculiar thing that had happened a decade earlier, when I was in Canada shooting the movie Angel Eyes. Everybody on set kept talking about this amazing psychic who lived in Toronto. I don’t usually go for that kind of thing, but people kept saying how incredible this guy was. “You have to go see him! He’ll read you like a book!” I was young and having fun, and so a couple of us decided, for the hell of it, to jump in the car and go see him.