Well I guess I did it...

Terrifyingly enough I met a boy and we are something. I don't know exactly what we are, because I don't care much for labels and so until he labels it, I'm certainly not going to. Even typing this makes me feel sick to my stomach with fear and joy.

So Boy is wonderful. Exactly as wonderful as I knew he would be. But I am terrified. And I'm going to have to tell him. And should I even be blogging about this since he may find my blog? Probably not, but oh well because let's face it, I blog about everything. Mostly, I think I am just afraid of being that person again... like I was with Andrew. The one who eats and destroys the souls of men who love her... yeah that one. I don't want to get so afraid of him becoming a part of me that I push him away. I need to CALM DOWN REBECCA! Geez. And I need to stop being so hard on myself.

Mostly, I am absolutely certain that if I am just honest with him he will make it ok. He is fabulous and I have no doubt that if I can just get over myself, calm down, and talk to him, that he will impress me yet again.

So the whole point of the post (it has rabbit trailed so so far) was to say that I was worried in not too distant posts that I wasn't capable of a relationship, but I think that's what this might be. I am proud of myself, even if it hasn't been that long. It really is scary, but he really is great.

Also, I very much need to come up with his internet name. I don't know if I'm just not feeling creative or if it just hasn't come yet. Boy is obviously not going to work. I'm going to need something more substantial.

Oh and I just remembered this. Julie asked me today, if this is what I wanted for just today. And this is absolutely what I want for today.

It's Bothering me.

Have you ever made a decision that you come to regret? One you could get out of, but not without hurting someone? One that when you made it was easy, no big deal, no side effects or risks? But in the end it becomes a murderous life sucking tragedy that makes you dread every moment of every day? I've made one of those decisions. And now the only choices are to suck it up and hate my life or hurt someone a lot and be happy again.

See I have this friend. He's actually a pretty great person. But we don't really get a long well. He is rude and doesn't pay attention to how he talks to people. And I am straight forward and don't let people get away with that. Except I let him get away with that. And so for months I have been storing up hate in my heart because I didn't want to say anything because I did once and his reaction was horrific and in that moment he was not a person I ever wanted to know again. So I figured as long as I didn't say anything about his moments of boarishness, he would be an okay friend. And mostly he was. But all those little moments when he wasn't became stockpiled in my soul and a few weeks ago I snapped. I broke. And then I went about the business of distancing myself because I couldn't anymore. I couldn't stockpile even one more moment. Or I would hate him forever. 

But the distancing didn't work. He noticed. He called me on it. Which made me angry. He didn't say something like, "I've missed you" or "Is everything ok?" or anything of the sort. He just pushed and prodded and guilted. And I tried to ignore him and push it off and let it be casual and ok. But it wasn't. And then the dreaded topic came up. The one topic that makes me hate him every single time we discuss it. The topic that he doesn't think is personal but that kills me. The topic itself doesn't matter to me really, but his response to it and to me in it, is impossible for me. 

And then I couldn't anymore. That one more moment stockpiled in my heart. And I got up and walked out on him. Then after the most horrible apology I have ever received, I did the worst thing possible. I emailed him back and ripped apart his apology. Ripped. It. Apart. Piece by ever loving piece. Because now I have to figure out what to do. I want to be able to get over this, and just be okay being myself... telling him exactly what I think when he makes me angry... except that hate kills my filter and usually I am pretty great at the filter, even while being honest. So now I am worried that I will not be nice while I am honest. and that's bad. 

So I've learned that me is who I have to be. Avoiding me is a bad idea, even when I hate the consequences of me. I won't do it again.

It's still bothering me. I don't know what to do. 

Be mine? Valentine?

I unabashedly hate Valentine's Day. Pretty much always have. At least since the giving and receiving of valentine's became no longer mandatory sometime around age 12. Why? Because I am single? no. I don't think that's it. The commercialization? Probably not (although it may be). Mostly it is absolutely do not do the love thing.

These past weeks have been a deep and painful insight into the depths and shallows of my soul. I have learned that I don't like love. You've heard about this, if you are up to date on the blogosphere. Here's this week's update: I have been left, rejected, abandoned, by so many significant people in my life. I don't want to willingly subject myself to that all over again. That would be silly. Classic right?

Sillier still though is the cowardice with which I approach love. I don't put myself out there. I have a wall, a lie, that keeps people from being able to hurt me, or to love me. I don't do love. That's the lie, the wall, the defense. I know we've been over this. I'm supposed to have realized, processed, moved on.

I have realized, processed, and moved on from the cause of these weeks of turmoil. But the affect, the identity, and self awareness are much more difficult to escape. I don't ask people to "Be Mine". I would never. I got pretty close once... in Alaska. And I slipped up and said, "I love you" when not in a right state of mind once, which I totally immediately took back because the Good Lord knows I didn't know what I was talking about. But I've never declared myself. Put it all out there. Taken the big jump and just gone for it. Risking my pride, my sanity, my heart and just leapt into the unknown.

I think I could though. Because getting over it can't be any harder at that point than it is at this one. So just like I can be honest about my anger, and my annoyance, and my condescension, I can be honest about my love. Because Love isn't vulnerability. Not like fear is. Love is strength.

I think I'm headed into montage stage. You know the part of every movie where you see the montage of change... but you don't really have anything on the day to report. No big victories in each day, but that period of time that just flies by and you come out different. I am ready to change colors. I'm ready for spring.

killing me softly...

I make it a practice to never blog about my work. Why? Because it's a bad idea. People get in a lot of trouble and sticky situations for doing such things. And my work is sticky enough all on its own.

So today I am going to say just this: I have great employees. If everyone in my company could be as great as my employees, I would have a great job.

However, if's very rarely come true.

Entirely unrelated to work, I need to just say something else. I hate it when people turn out to be really terrible. I am really terrible when it comes to certain things. Like shamefully. Like when I think about St. Peter at the gates, reading off my sins before he lets me in, I blush a little. or a lot. I don't think I will cause HIM to raise any eyebrows, because he's seen it all, but if he read it out loud, there would be a lot of eyebrow raising amongst many of my friends. Regardless though, I am still disappointed when I hear what I don't want to hear - When I hear that which takes my love of a person and makes it about them and how much they need love and not about me and how much I want their love. (Wanna know how much that last sentence proves that I am a terrible person... seriously, a lot). Basically I begin to love them out of a need to love those beneath me and not out of a desire to be loved by those above me.

My true and sincere goal in life should be to love everyone as though we were all equal, but my heart rarely believes that all men are equal. Created equal? Sure. Equal in adulthood, no, not so much. And this has nothing to do with gender or race or sexual preference. It has to do with actions and words and silly flippant moments of insecurity.

I want to be loved by someone better than myself because that makes me worth something. I love people less than myself out of obligation and pity. I love those on par with me because finally I can be honest and comfortable and not feel badly for them - such a relief. I strive to make myself appear to be more so that someone better than me will be fooled long enough to fall for me.

The really horrible thing about this is the subjective nature of my love. My love is loyal though. It won't go away. I will keep it forever (which is why 5 years after my last relationship I sometimes still feel disloyal to my ex. And still really want to kill myself for ever saying I had stopped loving him. I am really good at lying to myself. and therefore really good at lying to others (but only when I believe said lie)). Really, I love like there is no tomorrow once I've decided to love. It just doesn't always stem from a good place.

Speaking of good (and bad), your homework assignment should be to go through this blog and find all of the times I have shamed myself or used inappropriate and subjective modifiers to try and force myself into what I think I should be... or what I think you should be. And then message me and tell me to stop digging into my shame. And to do my taxes already.

Health is hilarious

Isn't there a white knight upon a fiery steed? Late at night I toss and I turn and I dream of what I need......OOOOOOOHHHHH. I need a hero. I'm holding out for a hero til the end of the night. He's gotta be strong and he's gotta be fast and he's gotta be fresh from the fight!

Today. Oh today. Well let's start with yesterday. Or the day before. I don't know when... I made a choice:


I cannot live for my family. I cannot survive for them. They have to do those things all on their own. And I have to live. Or I what I have done here for myself and for my family will just become a pathetic sob story. and that's not happening to me. I won't let it.


It's so not helpful to my family if I try to control their living process. It hurts them... like I could be them better than they could be them. Like me being in control for them is better. And its not. Not even for my dad. I don't know if they feel that way. But I realized that I need to only be their family, not their life support, their breath, their hero.  And it's so not helpful for me to focus all of my energy on taking care of everyone else. I need to be taken care of... and there's no one to do that but me. I'm really good at taking care of people. I can be good at taking care of me. If I try.

So after making this choice a series of unfortunate events occurred.
1. Jessica lost her baby. There aren't words. No that's a lie there are totally words. I love my sister. I love that baby. I love the next baby already. I am scared, freaked out of the death of unborn children. There is nothing less natural, less okay. It's like the death of hope itself. I hate it because there is no one to blame. It is just pain and darkness. It is death happening inside of life. It does not make any sense. and I hate that it happens. But I love that baby still. I talked to her. (it was going to be a girl. I know that there is no way to be sure of that because it wasn't far enough along... but I knew it as only an auntie can know.... I have not been wrong about any of my nieces or nephews yet). And I am super proud of my sister. She has been a mother and is a mother and will be again. It's really a magical process to watch a woman turn into a mother. Seriously.
2. Daddy was put back in the hospital. And lost the place he was going to live. and if I don't step in all the way again, he may be back on the streets. And that might have to be okay. Really.

And a series of fortunate events occurred...
1. I sang myself a love song.
2. I let myself feel. even though I am afraid. even though what I felt was love. for me. and something akin to like for other people. and something akin to not like for still others (which can be just as scary to discover you don't like the person you should like...)
3. I got really excited to be me.
4. I decided to start actively pursuing new opportunities in my life. And then I actually did something about it. I know shocking.

But I feel really honestly good. I am sad and scared. Really really terrified. But I'm doing it. It's like an extreme sport... like sky diving. Taking care of myself is like skydiving.

I am jumping out of this plane and hurtling toward God knows what. The adrenaline is totally awesome.

PS. I hate being called Dude by men. a lot.

Soap boxes

Today was a terrible day. But it's nearly over. And I finally have internet at my house again. So why am I at my mother's house waiting for her to get home? Because we are fighting and I know we need to fix it.

However, I had a really great conversation with Julie today. She "got on her soap box", as she put it, and pointed out a few very terrifying and true things to me about myself. For example, whenever I feel vulnerable or weak, I get very angry and usually at myself. And then I do what I did in my last post, and try to make myself just be better. Instead of admitting my weakness, or sitting with my vulnerability, I pretend to admit something, pretend to laugh, and then I "move on" which means I rant and rave and be angry for days.

Here's the vulnerability: I am afraid, desperately afraid, to fall in love. Or to even have a crush. Or even just maybe have a little tiny uncertainty about how I feel. I do not like to like boys. I like boys... but only as far as I am in control.

Here's the thing though, regardless of what made me vulnerable, or weak, or whatever, finally being honest with my best friend about that, was so healing. Sometimes I forget how much I need her to feel whole. And I always always miss her. She knows me just so well. Better than I ever expect her to. And I always assume she is going to be disappointed in me, which is just stupid, because Julie loves me.

And I really love her.

The joys of recovery

Deep breaths, Rebecca. Smile a little. Sing a lot. You know the magic keys you hold to recovery. Coffee, Cosmos, Episodes of Grey's. A lot of GLEE soundtracks. You love this. You thrive on it. So let's dive in!

There is nothing to bring me back around to finding myself like a fabulous weekend of overly emotional fantastic-ness. It really is amazing what best friends, great wine, and boy drama can do to inspire me toward emotional health. I think rejection is my motivator. Failure is my forte. Over-feeling is my catalyst toward change. Peace and Joy always return to me after I realize what a ridiculous person I am when I stop taking good care of myself. And then I giggle at my awesome "Becca-ness", as my precious (and pregnant!) sister-in-law put it, and wrap up my faults in a bag and chuck them off of the nearest waterfall, allowing them to become a dear memory, but no longer the current reality.

I love this moment. This is the moment where I live in the glowy aftermath of stolen kisses and little moments of flirtation that then turned the corner into the treachery of the DTR or State of the Union Address... also known as the moment when the weekend fun becomes that real conversation I always try to avoid. That conversation in which we all confess what we actually want and what we are really thinking. I always walk away with the knowledge that I am a silly little girl, sometimes a terrible person, and once again without any more wisdom about what I really want with a man. Because I am perpetually single. I never thought that out of all my childhood friends I would be the "Single Girl". But I am. And boy howdy I really do love it.

With less giddiness and more honesty, I always do learn more of myself. For example, codependency is attractive to me, but too terrifying to commit to. Selfishness is sexy, but gets old really quickly. Religion really does matter. Education is more often than not essential. I have to concentrate in order to not be manipulative. I have to remember to not be lost in the emotional crap that boys throw out in order to make you feel better, make them feel better, and remember what I actually what I need... and then express myself. Even if that means I have to give up the stolen kisses.

But at the end of the day, there is really something precious about a weekend away - especially when it includes Julie. She is so much my favorite. She is lovely. Really. Her life sucks a little right now, but she is working to change that. She loves whole heartedly and tries to continue to love people whole heartedly, even when she isn't sure how. People (or maybe just the church in general) should take lessons from her. And her husband.

Lastly, here's this one for you: 2010 was the most terrible year that ever existed. Seriously. This year needs to be better. So far it has been. All that hard stuff is becoming normal, and all the death is just becoming a piece of me. Remembering them is healing me. All of the illness it changing me into an adult.

So 2010, screw you. 2011, here's to you!