A sentiment that is typically said by a loving mother who walks her toddler into the first day of pre-school or waves goodbye as her teenager leaves the house in a glittery prom dress.
But how unfortunate it is for the girls who truly did grow up too fast.
The girl whose doe eyes flinch when someone else snatches their rose colored glasses.
the pre-mature bloomers.
Nothing is quite as tragic as a child who is forced to bear adult problems.
I often grieve for my childhood self.
I ache for the girl who was told in her first year of public school that she was “ugly” and deprived of any connections in those gloriously awkward years.
I ache for the girl who went on her first date at 15 and the older boy put his hands places she’s never been touched before.
She froze under his gaze but the lasting thought was,
I’m uncomfortable, but he must really like me?
But ultimately, she learned a very terrible lesson that day.
No does not mean no, really.
And it took many, many years for her to unlearn it.
I ache for the girl who was so desperate to receive love, that she gave it away freely to the worst people.
I ache for the girl who didn’t know any better.
She had no reason to distrust anyone,
no reason to lock her window at night.
Oh how terribly wrong she was.
Reader, I want you to try something with me really quick.
I want you to take 30 seconds and imagine a world where there is no danger, no person who would ever harm you, adults have all the answers, and there’s no need to even ponder “trust” because you would never have a chance to lose it. Everyone has the best intentions. Everyone loves each other. No life is above another.
This was our reality at some point. I will say, maybe not everybody.
But we’re not born with distrust in our hearts.
There was a point in time when we had faith in those older than us.
Faith that no harm would come to us intentionally
But I believe many of us can pinpoint when that belief switched on a dime.
Maybe this person does not have my best intentions at heart.
Maybe this person wants to harm me.
No matter how much our parents can prepare us for this terrible moment,
I don’t know if it’s every easily handled by the child.
I know for a fact that I did not handle it with ease.
And now I lie awake at night, petrified for any future children I may have.
How am I supposed to protect them?
How do I shield them for the ugliness of this world?
I guess you can’t.
What a terrifying thought.
This is why people over-shelter their kids, I think.
I grew up on a Utah mountain (in a cave essentially… A very nice cave, though)
And I was surrounded by very sheltered kids in high school.
We were no better off than the under sheltered kids, I believe.
My rose-colored glasses still shattered
Just the same as any other girl’s.
My story is not unique.
I used to think it was.
I used to think that I was one of the very few who had been terminally scarred at a young age.
No one could ever understand my issues or what I’ve been through.
I genuinely believed that tale,
Until I told someone my story.
“That happened to me, too last year.”
And I told more people.
“I was a little kid when it happened to me.”
“My parents didn’t believe me.”
“My church blamed me.”
and more people.
“All of my friends took his side after it happened.”
“I was told never to tell anyone.”
And I slowly collected these horrible stories, all told by people I loved very deeply.
It was shocking to me how many people have experienced an unwilling pre-mature loss of innocence.
I thought my case was “special” (a terrible kind of special, obviously)
But I was horrified when it was just another sad story from another scarred kid
I hate how much this happens.
I grieve for all of us kids who didn’t get to spend another day running through the woods,
battling magical beings with wooden swords
and playing house or capture the flag with all the neighbor kids.
I despise the resilience we all had to build up over time,
I’m thankful we have it
But I despise its origin.
I wrote this song as an ode to the part of me that I had to lay to rest way too early.
She was covered by a landslide that flattened a mountain.
She had absolutely no chance.
But now she’s “one with the earth.”
And that’s probably the best place for her to rest.
We’re all just trying to grow, creating cracks in pavement
I’m desperate to find colors that I haven’t seen since I was a homeschooled, wide-eyed kid.
well goddamn it has been a minute since I’ve typed out a blog.
I mean truly, what year is it?
Remember when I used to blog all of the time??
It used to be the absolute best way for me to cope and process all of the swirling chaos that was my life for so long.
But then blogging became *lame* and people started filming videos for the clock app instead.
No one really wants to read a blog anymore, right?
No one has any remnants of an attention span anymore… right???
No one cares about the torment that is my past love life anymore….. right!???!!?
I’m really hoping that you’ll prove me wrong.
Even though I just spent approximately 2.5 hours scrolling through the clock app.
No one is perfect OKAY.
On Friday, 7.29.22 I released a single called “Relapse.”
If you haven’t listened to it yet,
are we even friends?
it’s definitely got swirling chaos energy so
if you ever enjoyed any of the blogs I wrote, you may potentially enjoy that song maybe
I wanted to write just a little something about the inspiration behind the song and all of the processing that continues to occur years after it was written,
in a swirling chaos kind of way.
I was in an on and off “relationship” for about 7 years.
That’s right, 7.
That’s right, “relationship”
It was more of a best friendship turned trauma bond,
a let’s-hang-out-for-15 hours-and-cancel-every-other-plan-we-had-for-the-week, type deal,
a life lesson disguised as a twin flame imprint, if you will.
(I’m assuming if you’ve read my blog then you’ve read twilight. the research is there I just haven’t gathered it)
I don’t think I could put it more plainly than that.
Over the course of those 7 years, I wrote songs.
Dozens of songs.
Hundreds of poems.
Thousands of drunken rants in my notes app.
I was a woman possessed.
And through all of those scraps of sentences and metaphors and letters to myself that began with the phrase, “BECCA, CALM THE HELL DOWN.”
(I’m not even joking)
I began to process bits and pieces of the swirling chaos that was this “situationship.”
I decided to downgrade it.
It was a very large pill to swallow once I realized I had dedicated some of the most enthusiastic, romantic, and optimistic years of my life to someone who didn’t care if I got hit by a bus.
Unless he could profit off of the pity somehow.
I gave this man my youth.
I know I’m still hot and young but damn.
My most well-crafted lyrics were dedicated to someone who once referred to me as a “quick fix” in his own writings.
So why was I so hellbent on the idea of us being together and fulfilling the prophecy of us being Johnny and June reincarnated?
I may have lost my marbles…slightly.
So how did I go from being hopelessly dedicated to a human potato,
to an independent lady who is finally capable of having a healthy, wonderful relationship?
I will share all of my secrets.
I made a quick little timeline of my life, emphasizing the years that I became pathetic
I wrote down all of the times this man had upset me. Or really any time anybody had upset me in the past 7 years. I made notes about when we came back together, when forgiveness was gifted and boundaries immediately blurred. I pieced it all together until I had a general timeline of my life.
Then I saw an immediate cycle. It had always been there and I had always known we were in a rut, but actually seeing the cycle of how we’d be buds and then spending every second together and then he’d do something so incredibly horrible that I cut him out immediately and then months or weeks of space and writing, and then BAM I miss him. One of us reaches out and back down the rabbit hole we go.
I was doing the SAME thing over and over and over again. Hundreds of times from what I gathered, and not only with him. I had been living in this cycle with multiple people for YEARS. He was just the prominent one that uncovered the rest of my insanity. I immediately thought “I’ve been having the same conflict with the same characters over and over again for almost a decade.”
It’s almost like when you watch a comfort show or movie over and over again because you know exactly what’s going to happen and who’s going to betray who and how the ending always is. I had made these relationships my comfort show. I knew exactly what they would do to me each time we tried again, yet I allowed it because I felt comfortable in the outcome. I knew it wouldn’t kill me and I knew I’d forgive them again anyways. Why was I doing this? So my working theory is I had a massive fear of commitment and allowing myself to be loved the way I was truly worthy of it because of lack of self esteem or some shit like that? Idk I’m still in therapy.
2. When the moment came, I made a different choice.
So what happens in a cycle? The same shit over and over again. Exactly right. So how do you break out of something like that? One of you needs to make a different choice. So when you haven’t been speaking for three months and you REALLy miss them and you just watched a REALLY sad movie about lost lovers who were supposed to end up together but didn’t and you REALLY hate yourself because you’re stalking their instagram and who liked their recent post and so you send a quick text or like one of their photos to be coy, just don’t. I know that sounds impossible, but hear me out.
Love addiction is incredibly difficult, but also kind of predictable. I know that I won’t miss them forever. I know that withdrawals only last so long and then I’m on the up and up again. I know that as soon as I give in to a relapse (hehe) I will hate myself and it honestly doesn’t feel as good or satisfy my heart like I thought it would. Going back to the wrong person over and over again is disappointing. You’ve spent days, weeks, or months romanticizing their greatest hits. It’s almost as if anger and betrayal and broken hearts fade but love doesn’t. The good things don’t fade like the bad things do. So when you miss them and look back on this “shituationship” (I downgraded again) all you feel are warm, fuzzy and passionate feelings. All of that icky stuff has faded or simmered down. It only bubbles back up when you’re with them and it STILL sucks. It never feels quite as good as you think it’s going to when you’re back with them.
I still remember the moment that I made a different choice. I was home in bed. I hadn’t seen him in 6 months and I was in a different relationship. I missed being friends with him but I knew it would be impossible. The withdrawals started, but I didn’t give in. I held strong.
But then one night at 11pm.
He calls me.
I stared at my phone as it just buzzed in my hand.
I started thinking “Oh god he’s drunk in a ditch somewhere. He needs me. If I don’t go then he’ll die. He’s in a depressive state. If something bad happens then that’s on me. I should answer. I have to answer.”
But I continued to just stare at my phone.
I didn’t answer.
I didn’t text him the next day.
I just went on like nothing ever happened.
He later told me when we ran into each other that he basically WAS drunk in a ditch somewhere and needed me but I didn’t answer.
Did I almost throw up?
Was he my responsibility?
It is 100% possible to make a different choice when the cycle starts to pull you back in. It’s uncomfortable. It goes against every screaming fiber in your body, but that’s addiction baby. You have to re-wire your brain by breaking out of that cycle.
3. Love yourself just as you loved them
I wasn’t the biggest fan of myself for a long time. I didn’t care about what I put on my body or what I ate or my living space or how I spent my time. My entire existence was to please another person. Not cute !!!
After I broke the cycle, he came back up one or two more times. I will say, the cycle damn near pulled me in again but I stayed strong. Now it’s just second nature.
I spent a year and a half by myself. No dating, really.
I moved into a place by myself and furnished it with things that make me so happy.
I went for walks in my new neighborhood that happens to be my favorite part of town.
I started buying myself flowers for my dining room table
I took pottery classes and poetry classes and acting classes
I fell in love with painting
I worked on my music like a crazy person
My creative energy exploded into like 8 different channels
I made new friends
I went out by myself didn’t want to hide in a corner due to lack of self esteem.
I developed a skincare routine !!
I read the entire bible
I learned how to cook and bake
I learned how to take care of curly hair
I continued to write songs and poems and drunken notes in my phone to further process what had happened
I started releasing art inspired by him.
I started inspiring myself.
I figured out all the things that made me happy and all of the people who don’t deplete me of energy and love and I held onto them
The rest were given boundaries or nothing at all.
When you’re forced to spend time alone, you really figure out who you are.
It’s been a total game changer for me.
I know that those 7 years were not a waste of time, ultimately.
Do I wish I had made different decisions?
But I learned so much about myself and about love and it led me to where I am now,
A somewhat stable bitch with a terrifying work ethic and all the love I could possibly ask for.
Every person I’ve spoken to about this situation always responds with something like,
“Oh yeah I have one of those, an on off again will they won’t they from hell.”
So I thought I’d compile some of those tips that helped me (even though I have truly no idea what I’m talking about, I just have vast experience in this department) and also maybe promote my song and also write a blog because I miss it.
Thanks for reading this far and for listening to the song! Here it is,
I’ve always felt so strange staring out the window of a plane.
It almost seems… fake?
Like there’s no way I’m floating thousands of feet above the earth right now.
There’s no way that those itty bitty little toy cars on those plastic streets could be driving around Nashville or Dallas or Salt Lake below me.
I guess if you really think about it, it seems a bit alarming.
The other thing is I’m always shocked at how neat the land and the buildings and the farms and the cities look from up above.
When you’re walking along city streets or driving on winding back roads,
The layout doesn’t make much sense does it?
But when you’re above the clouds staring at our earth like a museum goer stares at a magnificent painting, it all seems to make sense.
There are shapes that are impossibly symmetrical. Roads that move effortlessly with rivers and lakes. Suburbs that look so meticulously planned out that it baffles me.
You wouldn’t even know how planned and intentional it all is unless you take the time to look at the entire picture.
Sometimes miles above and away from the picture itself.
I’ve always thought that that must be how God works sometimes.
The big life plan He has for us.
When I’m sitting in the trenches, it’s hard to imagine it being an entire predetermined labyrinth surrounding me.
This past year has felt like I’m right down in it.
Healing myself and yet not treating my body so kindly at the same time.
It’s been a year of learning, heart break, confusion, pessimism, opportunity, drinking, loss of faith, loss of confidence, loss of will and yet there were some absolutely stunning moments wrapped up in there as well.
This past week, I moved into a new apartment.
I’ll be living all by myself for the first time in my entire life.
I’m not even sure I like myself all that much.
How am I supposed to hang out with my self all the time?
My soul sister is moving away after two years of spending every minute with each other. We were roommates, bandmates, best friends, cat co-parents, platonic life partners, etc.
And I really don’t think any of that will change,
But won’t it?
After having someone there all the time to sit with me on the front porch while I cried my eyes out over some idiot to sitting on a stairwell in my apartment complex by myself is not the smoothest transition.
Looking back over the past two years with my best friend, we were truly given to each other as a extremely generous gift from God, I think. He knew what bull shit was coming up in our lives and He really did us a solid but sewing us together for so long uninterrupted. Also the fact that we spent 5 months in a tiny cruise ship cabin and never wanted to murder each other ??? and then still wanted to live together in a tiny house immediately afterwards ???? absolutely unheard of and it’s a God thing don’t @ me on this.
As the earth shifts into a post-pandemic world (God willing) I expect a lot of change for everybody really.
This week just feels like the end of an era for me personally.
I’m getting old.
And not very gracefully might I add.
I don’t move through change well.
I actually avoid it for as long as I possibly can.
I’m practically tossed off the cliff of change.
I’m always the last to board the plane.
I’m always the girl who cries when the party’s over.
This innate sense of knowing when the end is has always been inside me.
Have you ever hugged someone or seen something extraordinary or heard something that almost gave you a feeling of nostalgia even if you hear it all the time?
Then you might have this sense too.
I know when I’ll never see someone again
Or re-live an old routine
Or walk down familiar halls for the last time.
And I grieve it in the moment instead of fully appreciating it.
Because of this bitter-sweet sense of mine, I grieve while I’m still living it.
When I had a goodbye party a few days before I left for the cruise ship a couple years ago,
I just sobbed for 6 hours during my party.
I was a complete mess.
Everybody thought it was because I was leaving and I was going to miss my friends, which was true,
But I was truly grieving the end of that era.
I knew I was going to lose some of those people by the time I came back.
I knew I was never going to step foot in that old house of mine again.
I knew it was the end of that chapter.
I didn’t know why or how it would all happen
But I just knew.
And then when I was one the cruise ship, the crew members used to refer to me as “the crying girl” because I was crying in crew bar ALL the time.
Whenever one of my friend’s cruise contract ended and they were about to head back home, I’d cry my eyes out the night before.
Because I knew I’d never see them like that ever again.
In the same space living day to day, side by side with me and our clan.
Some of them I probably won’t ever see again in this life time.
And it’s devastating.
I’m not sure how to embrace change.
How to calm down this cruel sixth sense of mine.
Learn to enjoy the moments as they’re passing rather than grieve them before they’ve even left me.
I suppose all it truly takes is time and distance to see why everything happens the way it does.
The Artist’s choices are always intentional with every stroke of the brush,
sometimes it looks like a mistake or a random assortment of colors and shapes
but all you have to do is take a few steps back
or look down at the earth from a few thousand miles up in the clouds