It's pouring.

Posted by Rebecca Fri, 14 Nov 2008 04:17:00 GMT

I am standing in a torrential downpour with no umbrella, no rubber boots, and no rain coat. The wind is blowing, I’m soaked through, and it’s cold. I suppose it’s dark too, and I’m probably alone.

I can’t really think of any better picture to describe how I feel about life right now. Things just keep piling on top of me and I can’t see any relief. All I want to do is run away.

I’ve lost a lot of things this year, mostly in the form of people I care about. What’s worse is that I’ve had so much work to do that I can’t adequately process through my emotions. The emotions don’t go away, they just sit there, always beneath the surface. They are pretty much just enough to keep me from concentrating.

I’m exhausted. No matter what I do, I can’t seem to get enough sleep on a regular basis. I might get two nights of good sleep, but it will be followed by two nights of not enough sleep or fitful sleep.

I have a lot of people close to me who are going through a lot of difficult times. I wish I could help, but I am not even able to be a really good listener or friend because I’m so overwhelmed. And this feeling makes me feel even worse.

I’m so on edge that I can’t concentrate. Every little noise completely breaks my train of thought. There is no place quiet enough for me and G-d and there is no place quiet enough for me and my work, work, work.

I try to count it all joy, but it’s really, really hard. That is a mark of maturity that I will really have to focus on because it is tough. I am trying to look forward to the holidays - to some much needed time away from everything without a death being the central focus of it, but that’s not quiet enough to get me through.

I know I have a great community of people who love me, but it’s hard for me to lean on them because so many of them are going through their own storms right now. Or else what I need is something that they can’t or are unwilling to provide.

It’s a difficult season, but of course it will pass and five years from now I’ll remember the major events and not all the little things that made life unbearable. But right now, it just really sucks and I am having a difficult time staying positive.

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The Aftermath of Grief

Posted by Rebecca Thu, 24 Jul 2008 14:31:00 GMT

One of the difficult things about leaving town to go to a funeral and visit with your family is getting your brain back in gear when you return.

Yesterday was very hard. I had the day off from work but had to ride the bus down to campus anyway to take an exam, an exam for which I felt completely unprepared. (Dang, check out that grammar!)

I remember that my eyes couldn’t focus on anything so I ended up staring blankly at the sky while memories rolled around in my head like loose marbles. Or maybe that was just my brain.

I was able to focus pretty well on the test. The memories were only whispering to me then. But the second I left the classroom, they began to scream, shrieking like banshees.

I slept a lot yesterday afternoon, and spent a little time looking at pictures while my eyes teared.

Today is better. I’m not so teary and edgy. The hard part is that I work with seventeen faculty and twenty-five staff who all know why I missed work earlier this week. They are all being nice and asking how everything went and how I’m doing. It’s nice to know they care.

However, when forty-two people bring up your grandmother’s death to you, pretty much all in one day, it doesn’t make it easy to push the idea out of your head and focus on the task at hand.

Just getting through work email this morning is draining, and incredibly tough because I can’t remember what I read just a second ago.

It is the times like these that I am very glad I work for the state. I can invoke warm-body mode and exist and no one really cares.

Tomorrow will be better. No one will have anything new to say to me. I will have had a full day in the world to remind me that it is, in fact, going to keep turning.

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Excedrin Won't Fix This

Posted by Rebecca Fri, 18 Apr 2008 19:31:00 GMT

I have a headache.

Maybe it’s the weather. Or maybe it’s the donut I had after lunch.

I’m sure it isn’t the writer’s block or Friday heartache. It could never be anything like that.

Although I do find it funny that when I have a desperate need to write lately, that’s when I have the least to say.

It used to be the other way around.

In the past, when I needed to write and my fingers connected with a pen or a keyboard, somehow the mighty mississippi broke through the levees in my heart, resulting in a deluge of wordy emotional muck all over the paper or screen.

I’m wondering if my heart went off and got smart. Maybe it pitched the sandbags and went with steel mixed with concrete. I’m not sure.

Today my heart is swollen and feels water-logged, but it is contained.

I’m not certain I’m completely comfortable with not being able to harness my emotional energy for the sake of creativity. Even though I’m overfull, I feel very empty.

Maybe that *is* why I have a headache. The river can’t get through my dammed heart, so I have water on the brain.

Or maybe it’s because this post is really terrible so my brain is knocking itself repeatedly against the interior of my skull.

Either way, there’s a lot of pain going on today. I wish it would stop.

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Day Six: Friends

Posted by Rebecca Tue, 06 Nov 2007 14:10:00 GMT

I was thinking last night about how I am reluctant to befriend women. I almost always keep them at arm’s length because, well, let’s face it, women are some of the meanest people on the planet. Cold and heartless too. Yes, I said it. No snide remarks from men on this one. We women may have the crazy gene, but you men got the dumb gene. So just keep that in mind before you go off saying how you knew it all along and you were just waiting for one of us to admit it. Remember, this blog is about me, not you.

So shush.

Anyway, I remember elementary school whenever I think about how I am typically repulsed by women. I was always The Girl Nobody Liked in elementary school. I was the butt of jokes and pranks, I was always picked last for team games, and was either left out of invitations to birthday parties, or was treated poorly when I attended them.

It’s no surprise to me, now that I know who I am, that I was treated this way. I see a lot of things differently than most people I know, and could be labeled eccentric. I’m quirky, creative and weird, and have a very strange sense of humor a lot of the times. Of course I didn’t fit in with all the girls who wanted nothing other than to throw themselves at the feet of such heart throbs as Jonathan Brandis and Jordan Knight.

Nevertheless, not fitting in left a bad taste in my mouth.

I got to thinking about all this on my drive home from Marci’s last night (Marci and Caroline and I met up to go for a walk and spend some time hanging out). I remembered what it was like to not have women in my life who I could trust. I remembered what it was like to have only superficial girlfriends who wanted to know nothing of my life, but wanted to sit around for hours, pouring their pain and sorrow into my ears, who wanted everything to be about them. Who never wanted to give, and only wanted to take.

I don’t have to worry about any of these things with Marci and Caroline. I can be 100% myself and I don’t have to worry about them thinking I’m crazy. They know I’m crazy, and it is evident that they love me for it. They know that I can space out at times and not have a clue what happened in the last five minutes. They know that I make lame jokes, and they know what I look like when I cry. They aren’t in my life to get what they can out of me and then move on. They haven’t put me on a pedestal to the point that they claim my ideas and opinions as their own. They don’t call me incessantly and get jealous when I’m busy with school or other things. They don’t get upset when I flake on them due to cramps or exhaustion or just plain ickiness.

I guess in short, they don’t have ridiculous expectations of me. They have the kind of expectations that genuine friends have of others - honesty of personality, honesty of character, and absence of judgment. They only expect to be given what they are willing to give out.

Never in a million years would I have expected to have such friends. I never got to have friends like that before. I’m so glad I have them now.

Caroline and Marci - this blog post? It’s one giant Zing! for you both.

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Yikes

Posted by Rebecca Thu, 18 Oct 2007 20:53:00 GMT

Sheesh, are my emotions crazy or what?

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My life.

Posted by Rebecca Sun, 14 Oct 2007 04:38:00 GMT

Today was a wasted day. I had a good time going to the farmer’s market with Dominic, but then I caught up on my sleep and then messed around the rest of the evening.

I am running out of steam, and I am running out of heart.

I was talking to my lovely mother on the phone, and she asked me when I was coming home to visit.

I don’t know. I don’t have time, and I don’t have money. That makes it really hard.

I was overcome with a severe wave of homesickness. It’s funny how things don’t work out the way you think they will.

I feel like the world is pushing at me from all sides. I have to go to work every day, and I have to be focused and in a good mood when I’m there, so I can deliver good customer service.

I have to find time to closely and carefully read my literature assignments for class, and I have a big, formal paper due this coming Friday.

Then there’s going to the gym 4 days a week so I can look at myself in the mirror and not cringe. On top of that, there’s laundry, car maintenance, going to to grocery store, cooking, washing dishes, and my share of the housework.

Oh, there’s also church and bible study, which are imperative for me to attend because otherwise I get depressed and then I really lose my focus. I also need to remain connected with other christians because if I don’t I get in a funky funk.

I also have a serious relationship to maintain, which is a joy, but takes time and effort. I feel like all the stress I have on me from everything above is adversely affecting this relationship, and I hate that.

I have friends who are pissed cause I can’t spend time with them and family who feel punished by the fact that I have excuses to not make it home.

I’m not really complaining as much as I’m venting. I just feel like I can’t handle it all. But there’s no downsizing. I can’t do that either.

So tonight I hit the wall and couldn’t do anything. I sat around and watched a movie instead, and cried to my sleepy boyfriend on the phone about how I can’t keep everything straight and I feel like I’m wasting my youth and so on.

The worst part is that I know there is no solution. I know that all I can do is just survive, which is what I’ve been doing my entire life.

I’d like to live one day, instead of just survive. That must be nice.

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A long post about worry.

Posted by Rebecca Fri, 12 Oct 2007 13:58:00 GMT

A woman worries. At some point in her life, she worries about something, but more than likely, she worries about a lot of things.

A woman worries about her appearance. Even the most confident of women will worry over what to wear on a date. Dressy? Casual? Heels? Boots? Hair up? Hair down? She worries.

She may worry about physical things that she can change. Maybe she needs a hair cut, or could stand to drop 5 pounds. Maybe she needs to pluck her eye brows, or maybe she really should have shaved her legs in the shower this morning after all.

A woman may worry about physical things she can’t change. Maybe she can’t tan. Maybe she’s too tall, or too short. Maybe she doesn’t like the shape of her nose, or the shape of her hips.

A woman worries.

A woman worries over her relationships. Do her friends know she cares about them? Is she there for them when they need her most? What about her man? Does he know that she greatly admires him? Does she show her love in enough ways? Do her words encourage him? Is she too hard on him?

A woman worries about what she has to offer the world. Is she good at her job? Is she putting her best effort into everything? Is she a good mother? Do her kids think so?

It’s not easy to put an end to a woman’s worries. Some worries she has to end herself. Others can be helped by people around her. A woman needs affirmation that she is beautiful, that her effort to love is recognized and appreciated, that she is good at her job, that she is a good writer.

I found myself in this position recently. I am a confident person overall, but I do have times when my confidence is completely shattered. Luckily, there were people around who helped build it back up.

I hit a road block in my class. I wasn’t happy with what I was writing, and I was getting B grades on my papers.

I don’t get B grades on papers. It just doesn’t happen, because I don’t let it.

So it happened. Twice it happened, and with each time my confidence eroded away down to a nub. I was even thinking that I should give up writing altogether, because obviously, I wasn’t good at it.

Thank God my professor understands something about students, and something about women. I’m pretty sure he does, because when I went to his office hours on Wednesday, he responded to my woes with a pep talk.

“You’re in a senior level class full of English majors,” he said.

“They are all great writers,” he said.

“Because of this, I have to grade on a curve or else everyone would have A’s,” he said.

“If you are getting anywhere from an A+ to a B-, you are a good writer,” he said.

“You didn’t come into this class and forget how to write. You just have a few minor improvements and adjustments to make, and you’ll get A’s,” he said.

“It only takes practice, and judging by your previous classes, you haven’t had much,” he said.

“Your topic is perfect. Actually, I think it’s brilliant,” he said.

“I want you to present your topic to the class today,” he said.

I felt better.

Wednesday night I finished the rough draft and emailed it to him. He proofed it and had it back to me, complete with comments, two hours later. I didn’t read his comments until I made two or three critical passes over my work. Then I read his comments, and made a few more adjustments. During this process, the words came. I felt the electricity of them running through me, like a switch had been turned on. I felt like me again. I was comfortable in my skin. It was a good feeling.

Then I sent it to my brother, who knows a thing or two about writing. He only suggested three minor changes, and reaffirmed my professor’s opinion that I’m a good writer.

Today I turn in the paper. I am proud of it. I hope I get an A. We’ll see when I get it back. At least I will not be embarrassed to turn it in this time.

All I needed was a pep talk from an authority. All I needed was to have my confidence restored. When that happened, my ability heightened, my awareness heightened, and my performance improved by leaps and bounds.

A woman worries. Encouragement helps her not worry so much.

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Stress Block

Posted by Rebecca Thu, 27 Sep 2007 02:42:00 GMT

Why is this paper so difficult? It’s like the words are just not there. I can’t link together two coherent thoughts to save my life, and I LOVE the book we’re reading in class right now.

The paper is due Friday and I’m busy tomorrow night.

All I want to do is throw in the towel and give up on this stupid class.

Either that, or settle for a B. And I hate settling for less than what I know I can accomplish.

So very stressed. So very tired. So very frustrated. So very ready to graduate.

Must. Not. Give. Up.

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Hope To Be Had

Posted by Rebecca Mon, 24 Sep 2007 18:27:00 GMT

Last week was a little rough. It was rough because of things going on around me that were completely out of my control. Some of the things were big, and some were small, but they all added up into one huge lump of ick in my heart and it was hard for me to not be sad in general.

My friend’s father died. They knew it was coming, but it was still unexpected in that sense that you just didn’t think it would happen on that day, at that moment, in that manner.

So I was plagued with thoughts of mortality, reminded once again that life passes in and out of existence like a vapor.

As I read her words about her father and how she felt about him, I was reminded of my own broken, barely-pieced-back-together relationship with my own father, which is ultimately scarred, and I felt a semi-permanent lump of something develop in my throat as I thought about how I saw my father age so quickly, and how suddenly, as if before my very eyes he became an old man, bent over and gray, in the autumn of his life.

Another friend has been down and out, because his young wife left him. I don’t know her really. I think we met once or twice, so I can’t really say what is going on, but I think it might be a phase that could get out of hand. I just hurt for him. He doesn’t deserve this at all. He is a good man.

And so I thought about love, and how strong and yet how fragile it is, and how the heart is deceitful above all things, and how it’s easy to think you’re in love when you aren’t, and how easy it is to really be in love and not even know it, because you are unwilling to know it, because you’re scared to death of it because people who you love can so very easily hurt you. They only have to perform one selfish act to do so, and yet begrudging them that one selfish act is in and of itself, selfish, and so you hurt them back and wonder if love really is what it’s cracked up to be.

It is. It really is. It’s worth every ounce of joy and sorrow a heart can muster. It really is.

I got a B on my writing assignment. I knew it wasn’t that great when I turned it in but I sure didn’t think it was worth a lousy B. Of course, then the prof told us that he didn’t explain the assignment correctly. Of course, I was one of the ones who misunderstood his instructions. Of course, that doesn’t matter, I am stuck with the B.

My wardrobe is shrinking at the rate my thighs are expanding. Some days I care, other days I don’t. The days I don’t care, I eat salad and drink water. The days I do care, I eat pastries and drink soda. You figure that one out. I sure as hell can’t.

I don’t believe in Equal Treatment Under the Law. I know this sounds terrible, but it’s true. I don’t believe in it because it doesn’t exist. At least, not in this country. Yay, USA!

I am discontent with everything on earth.I am plagued by feelings of mediocrity, blandness, and everything is painted in shades of gray. How cliche.

What gets me out of bed in the morning? What gets me into the shower and into my clothes and into my car and into my office and back home again and out with friends and off to church and to the grocery store and to the bar downtown where a friend is celebrating her birthday and to your house and back home again?

The mere fact that I know, I know deeply and without any doubt that there is hope to be had, and that the hope to be had is that this life is not devoid of meaning, and that all the things that happen in it can accomplish a greater purpose, even if that purpose it unclear to me and everyone else.

It gets me out of bed in the morning.

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And I'm not even an Environmentalist!

Posted by Rebecca Thu, 13 Sep 2007 13:10:00 GMT

I read things like this and they make me really sad.

Then I see things like this and they make me mad, because my people are using things like this as an excuse to ignore a problem, and in some ways, even justify it.

Then I remember Genesis 1:28 which says “God blessed them; and God said to them, ‘Be fruitful and multiply, and fill the earth, and subdue it; and rule over the fish of the sea and over the birds of the sky and over every living thing that moves on the earth.’”

Ruling over the earth and all its creatures doesn’t mean we look the other way. It doesn’t mean we laugh at people who stand up and work for this cause. It doesn’t mean we don’t at least try to do our part, even if it just means we recycle newspapers. Every bit counts, and every part of the global ecosystem affects every other part of it. I guess I just don’t understand why people think it’s ok to ignore our responsibility towards nature and ultimately, towards ourselves.

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