by on

“She’s growing up too fast.”

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.

But in her honor,

I’ll keep searching

I’ll keep growing.

by on

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.

Anyways,

On Friday, 7.29.22 I released a single called “Relapse.”

If you haven’t listened to it yet,

  1. are we even friends?
  2. it’s definitely got swirling chaos energy so
  3. 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.

  1. 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.

BAM.

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.

And then,

silence.

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?

Absolutely.

Was he my responsibility?

Absolutely not.

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?

Absolutely.

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,

Relapse Links

I’m going to continue drinking my 3rd cup of coffee today and not texting anybody toxic,

Because unironically,

I can indeed quit whenever I want.

by on

I’ve spent the better part of my life pulling people into my circle.

 

Because once I’ve decided that I love you and I need you to keep breathing, that’s truly it for me.

 

I have to do everything in my power to keep them from walking away from me or our friendship or our relationship.

 

I’ve always heard that it’s natural for friendships to wilt away and for people to keep moving down their own paths without each other.

 

“Some people are there for a reason, some people are there for a season.”

 

It’s that old cliché, right?

 

Wrong.

 

At least, that’s what I always thought.

It’s not hard to keep up with a friendship, right?

 

I spend the extra hours of my days calling, texting, writing and thinking about the people I love.

 

If I haven’t talked to a childhood friend for a few months, I’ll always call them out of the blue and ask how life is going.

 

One of my childhood friends told me once, “Bec, we were so close when we were young but as we grew older I was fully prepared for that friendship to wilt away but you… you just wouldn’t let it.”

 

No, I never let friendships “fade” for no reason whatsoever. 

 

It always baffled me when people just say “I don’t know… we just don’t talk anymore.”

 

Why?

 

Why would you let that person you loved so much at one point just fade out of your life?

 

It was an insanely foreign concept to me up until this past year.

For me, there always has to be meaning in everything.

 

I spend years trying to find lessons in the trauma and experiences I’ve endured because if I don’t find the meaning or the “lesson,” how am I supposed to move on?

 

Was I just not good enough?

 

Did I not call them enough?

 

Was I not there when they needed me?

 

I ache over the absence of someone for years.

 

Until it finally clicks in my mind 

 

“Oh… that’s why that happened.”

 

 But it gets exhausting, you know?

 

 Constantly throwing myself at people just desperate to keep them around.

 

 If I never called them again, would they call me?

 

 If I stopped sending them random memes one day, would they notice?

 

Maybe.

 

Maybe not.

 

I never wanted to find out.

 

So I call.

 

I text.

 

I send gifts.

 

If there was a fight, I always apologize first.

 

Even if I wasn’t the one in the wrong.

But over the past year, I’ve learned a very important and brutal lesson,

 

I can’t make someone love me.

 

I can’t force someone to be my friend.

 

I can’t insert meaning into a situation when maybe, there’s no rhyme or reason.

 

If something’s not meant to be, then I can’t change that.

 

No matter how many times I call,

 

No matter how many times I pour my heart out in a letter,

 

No matter how many lessons I feel I missed out on.

 

 I can’t make someone feel what they don’t.

It’s been a lonely season in life for me.

 

Because I’ve lost quite a few people over the last year.

 

And I’ve been attempting to force puzzle pieces together that just clearly don’t fit.

 

But through it all, I have learned a few things (still searching for lessons),

 

There are people out there who do truly love me just as much as I love them.

 

And people who do choose to be in my life just as much as I choose to be in theirs.

 

But the only person I need validation from is myself.

 

The only person who can fulfill all my needs and dim down my insecurities is myself.

People come and go.

 

Friendships end.

 

Love fades when it’s not meant to be.

 

But that doesn’t mean that I’m unloveable.

 

That doesn’t mean there’s something fundamentally wrong with me.

 

It’s just the way the world seems to work.

 

I’ll continue pouring my heart out sure,

 

And reaching out to everyone I love and have loved,

 

And I’ll even continue rebuilding my half of any burned bridge,

 

But I’ll do it while being kind to myself.

 

I’ve been giving every ounce of my unconditional love to everyone I possibly can,

 

And I’ll continue to do so.

 

But now I’ll save just a little for myself as well.

– Becca Tremmel

 

facebook – Becca Tremmel

instagram – @littlelionbecca

twitter – @littlelionbecca

by on

You want to remain invisible.

Don’t you?

I know the demons you’ve walked with for so long have become so normal.

Like they’ve always truly been there.

That’s something I understand completely.

I can’t remember a day on this earth before I had demons.

They sit with me.

They go to work with me.

They sleep in my bed.

They watch me sing.

And write songs.

They come to me in dark dreams.

And worst of all, when I’m having an intimate moment with someone I love.

They never leave.

I’m not sure if they ever will.

But the danger of walking around with your demons so often is they can be normalized.

Demons are not normal, sweet one.

They shouldn’t be dragging you down at every moment of the day.

They shouldn’t be giving you panic attacks after a passionate kiss with someone you love and trust.

They shouldn’t sit with you as you stare in the mirror and cut your hair with scissors out of pure mania.

They shouldn’t exist so effortlessly in your life.

They’re not supposed to be there.

Some may even joke about how normal these demons are and the mental problems that affect so many hurting people.

Our culture has become quite disturbing in that sense, when you truly think about it.

We’ve normalized depression, anxiety and other mental disorders so much to the point that we joke about them constantly.

You can’t get on twitter without seeing a joke about depression or suicide.

I’ve always been an advocate for ending the stigma that comes with mental health issues.

That’s a beautiful thing.

But normalizing these issues is not okay.

It’s gotten to the point that it’s weird NOT to have to depression or anxiety.

So our culture has convinced itself that everyone on the planet has mental issues or we joke about their existence on Twitter just to fit in.

That is so gross to me.

And it’s particularly horrible for people who truly suffer with these issues.

Depression and Anxiety and many other disorders are treatable.

Most of them aren’t supposed to last forever.

And with therapy, medication, and a healthy lifestyle switch, most of these disorders are treatable.

But this whole “you’re not normal unless you’re suicidal” culture is not okay.

Because it normalizes suicide.

And suicide isn’t normal.

Now on a personal note,

I think we allow ourselves to be accustomed to the demons and depression and the disturbing thoughts that invade our psyche.

When I was 20, I was committed to a psychiatric hospital.

It was actually the reason I wrote my first blog.

I don’t remember everything from that week of my life, all I remember is wanting to end my life.

I had a date picked out.

I had a plan.

And my friends, family and even my acquaintances completely freaked out.

Back then, I kept thinking that everyone was being dramatic.

That I didn’t want to make a “big deal” out of the situation.

I only told one or two people how bad my PTSD was because I was afraid that people would exaggerate and freak out.

Looking back on it now,

Of course they did.

Of course they committed me to that hospital.

Of course.

I was a threat to my own life.

However, I was desensitized to the demons and the thoughts in my brain that I had convinced myself that MY thoughts were rational.

And everyone else was being insane.

It’s hard to come to terms with the fact that you might just be irrational,

But it’s taking a step back,

Really listening to yourself and speaking to others to figure out that your thoughts may not be all that normal.

Now, after years of therapy and one hospitalization, I’ve learned that for me, I just pretend that a close friend is talking to me.

As if I were listening to someone I loved dearly sharing their thoughts with me instead of the thoughts being my own.

If those thoughts were coming from a dear loved one, would I be concerned?

If yes, then I know that those thoughts aren’t rational. Its just the demons normalizing their existence again.

I know how hard it is to ask for help.

I know how hard it is to put yourself in the spotlight and say “hi I’m not okay” because that’s too much attention.

I really get it.

But it all starts with telling someone.

As soon as those thoughts are said out loud, God and the rest of the world will do whatever it takes to bring you back to a healthy place.

It may all sound really dramatic, honestly it did to me too.

However, it all comes from a place of love.

People in your life love you and they want you to be okay,

So swallow your pride, dear one, and your beliefs that this is all “normal” and the demons following your every move are just a part of the ride.

Tell someone.

That’s all it takes to start the process to get back to REAL normal.

So if you’re having thoughts that seem a bit “off” just please talk to someone.

Look into a therapist or a school counselor.

Share your thoughts.

If they seem a bit irrational, they probably are.

I love you.

You are so strong

And this too shall pass.

Because demons aren’t normal,

Don’t listen to the backwards culture we’ve created

And getting rid of them isn’t impossible.

Trust me.

 

 

facebook – Becca Tremmel

instagram – @littlelionbecca

twitter – @littlelionbecca

by on

This dress feels a little too tight.

I feel kinda fat.

When am I going to start working out, jesus.

Do they notice how much I’m pulling at this dress?

I feel like my ass is just out there in the open.

You look anxious.

Stop looking so anxious.

How long has that guy been looking at me?

What is he staring at?

Do I have something on my face?

Does he notice this last-minute pimple that just popped up out of freaking nowhere?

I hate this.

When can we go home?

Is it bad if I ask my friend to go home?

We’ve only been here for an hour.

Shit.

Wait, is that girl walking up to me?

She looks drunk.

I don’t think I remember her name???

Dear god what is she going to say.

“Heyyyyyyy girl, how’re you!!”

 

 

I don’t really consider myself a “fake” person.

I definitely want to come across as “down to earth” and “genuine.”

Does consciously thinking that make me fake?

I dunno.

Whatever.

I’ve struggled with social anxiety for a long time now.

Some days it’s worse than others.

A few years back, I used to blog… a lot.

You probably noticed.

I loved writing about my thoughts.

My life.

My lessons.

Then I kind of phased out of that.

Again, you might’ve noticed.

Mostly because it got to the point where I hated going out.

It terrified me.

Because no matter where I went, who I was with, or what was going on,

Somebody brought up my blogging.

or my chaotic ~love life~

How it offended them or someone they loved.

How I shouldn’t have broken up with that guy.

How that guy should’ve probably broken up with me.

You know, casual party conversations.

 

I started to really care about what people thought of me.

I started to believe that everything that’s ever happened to me wasn’t mine to share.

Like they weren’t my own stories.

I stopped writing for a while.

It was too much.

It was all too much.

And the really shitty thing is,

I love writing.

I love telling stories.

I love sharing.

I love connecting to other human beings.

I love people.

And I was terrified of people.

It caused complete turmoil in my heart and thoughts.

What if I write about this?

No, then that person will be offended.

Okay, well what if I wrote about that?

No, then everyone will believe you’re a basket case.

I used to be bold.

I used to be brave.

By god, my first piece ever was titled “Welcome to the Psych Ward (It’s More Like a Vacation Spot” 

It doesn’t get much bolder than that, friends.

I was outspoken.

But anxiety crippled me.

It suffocated the joy that was bursting inside of me when I wrote.

I allowed the thoughts of other people to define who I was.

Not cool, man.

So I write this to encourage you to look at your choices.

Why do you do the things you do?

Do you make choices based on other peoples’ opinions of you?

Do you not drink in public because you don’t want others to think you’re a drunk?

Or do you not drink in public because you feel safer drinking at home with friends?

Are your choices fear based or faith based?

Do you post obsessively about your relationship because you want all of your followers to believe that you guys are perfectly, hopelessly in love and not self conscious about the relationship?

Or do you post about your relationship because you are actually over the moon happy with this person?

What types of choices do you make?

For a long time, mine were fear based.

100%.

But I’ve learned over that past few years that who I am is not based on someone else’s opinion of me.

I am whoever I decide to be.

You are whoever you decide to be.

I’m a writer.

I’m a sharer.

I’m a story-teller.

I’m a comeback kid.

I’m Becca.

I am a lion.

And I am bold.

 

(Featured Image by: Alyssa Jiosa)