The Cleansing.

 So amongst the extraordinary things i did this weekend, my favorite had to be attending the baptism of one of my co-workers.

It's sort of a long story, something i say a lot lately, but said friend has wanted to be baptism for quite some time and luckily our ordained minister and coworker (who also happens to be the guy Kat is in love with) offered to baptise her this weekend, as his church was performing this first baptism ceremony of the year.

She invited Kat and I to attend because she wanted support from her two favorite girls at work. We promptly invited Marisol, a friend who works in a different department at Le Sad store, to come with us. She invited her friend, Joe (who we all know and love) who then asked Sean if he wanted to go. Though Sunday was his 26th Birthday he said he wanted to support Cynthia and would drive down from the Bronx to bear witness to her baptism.

Outside of Joe and Cynthia, the rest of us aren't really church goers. We actually have, in some form or another, talked about our discomfort with religion and church several times. When The Preacher, it's what we call him at work though technically he is the assistant pastor of the church, heard we were all going he said pretended to faint. 

[ Side note: I was happy that Sean wanted to go. I rarely get to see him outside of work and in his Sunday best. He kept asking if i was definitely going and I told him I was. I wanted to show up on Sunday for him as well, because i wanted to give him his birthday gift after the baptism. On Saturday, when he walked into work, he stopped me in the aisle to block me from walking past him. Instead of skirting around him, I wrapped my arms around his neck and he picked me up and started carrying me to the break room.

The whole way i whispered, "I got you something for your birthday; don't be mad'. Don't be mad. Don't be mad. Is all i kept saying until he dropped me off in the break room. He said he wouldn't be mad but that he told me not to make a big deal of his birthday. I told him i didn't make a biiiiiig deal out of it, but that i definitely did more than i should have. He smiled and said I could give him said gift on Sunday].

 Lately I have been more than a little peeved with god because of Marie. Despite constantly being surrounded by people, I feel lonely and unhappy and sad more than I should. I am confused about so many things. I am overwhelmed by all of my wants. And I miss my best friend every single day. And while the changes in me have been...interesting and even lovely, it doesn't mean that i don't feel bad for having to move on after this trauma. I've come to terms with the fact that her death is trauma. 

But along with everyone else who decided to go, I wanted to be there for Cynthia . I put aside all my whatthefuckisthisreligionshit eye rolling and wanted to support my friend and her deep belief in her faith and her god.

So on Sunday, i wore my favorite polka dot dress and sandals and headed down to this little beach in this little town with my five favorite people and sang church songs in a theater and listened to a sermon about god and the power of christ while i starred longingly (and inappropriately) at the boy of my dreams who kept leaning down to tell me that I wasn't singing loud enough for god to hear me. After singing the longest version of Amazing grace, we gathered our things and headed down to said little beach for the 'cleansing' to begin.

I must admit, these days I'm not much of a believer. I continue to question my faith and belief and the concept of god all the time. But the walk down to the beach was something of a miracle. Surrounded by my best gal and my crush and my coworkers i felt incredibly happy. And the look on Cynthia's face as we walked  down to the beach was enough to let me know showing up for her was the best thing I could have ever done. We were all just happy to be together. And by the time we landed on the beach, her excitement about her new life spread to us.

 The 'ceremony' began as soon as everyone surrounded the beach. We dipped our feet in the water as each person getting baptised wadded in to the water, waiting for their turn to be submerged. The clouds rolled in just as the baptisms started, it began to drizzle, and the wind tossled my hair they way i've always liked it too. Kathleen was to the left of me, Sean to the right, Marisol and Joe were right behind us just as Cynthia's name was called.  When she reached the preacher in the water, whose hands rested comfortably on her shoulder, i remember holding my breath and closing my eyes like i use to do as a kid just before i took a big leap and lunge. A mix of nerves and excitement. A sense of calm before the storm.

When I opened my eyes, Cynthia sank slowly into the water surrounded by friends and family. We yelled and clapped for her. We laughed and teared up for her. And when she emerged, smiling and laughing, we were all there with her.

And  I remember thinking

A thought I have not have the pleasure of thinking some days

I remember feeling a way that I have not felt since Marie passed away

I whispered into the air amongst the cheers and laughter and warmth:

 "thank you for this. thank you for letting me be apart of this'.

Followed by tears.

Updates, Mistakes, Surpises, Comings and Goings.

I'm alive and well. Though very busy and distracted these days.

This is my first proper day off in weeks! weeks! and I have decided to go to the city with Kat. Because when you're broke and young the best thing to do is spend your money in the city.

We are going to see Dinosaurs and space things and take pictures of food and parks. We are going to talk about our current boy obsessions and books (read White Horse, it's amazing) and music. I'm looking forward to it.

Seans birthday is Sunday and in a truly bizarre turn of events we may actually spend part of it together. A mutual friend of ours is getting baptised (long ass story) and he says he wants to go. I am only going to said baptism because Kats crush goes to the church and the baptism is taking place on a beach. I am all for being near water. It soothes me.

Last weekend Sean and I got into a huge fight. By fight I mean I had a hug panic attack around him and he freaked the fuck out. Instead of letting him calm me down, i pushed him away, went to the bathroom and sobbed. Later that night I accidentally cut my hand opening boxes at work. It was nothing serious but one of the managers made Sean go get gauze for me. When he came back with the supplies, he asked me, far away from any managers, if I had cut myself on purpose out of anxiety.

I glared at him. Pulled my hand away, fumed and stormed away.  Not because i was angry at him but because I was angry at myself. Per usual, we made up and he dropped the whole line of questioning. I hate that I am mean to him. I hate that my emotions are dynamite these days. I have no reign on the amount of shit i feel on a daily basis and I have a tendency of taking it out on him, cause as of yet, he hasn't given up on me.

So this weekend, I plan on making it up to him. I'm a terrible friend. A terrible crush. And this boy, when he isn't being a douche, puts up with my shit like a champ. So even though my gift will be small, I hope he likes it.

Anyway, I need to get dressed and make my way downtown. Pictures to be uploaded soon. I promise.

I'm Terrified...

...that i'll never belong to anything. or anyone.

....hysterical, crying in pillow, panic induced breakdown because I am terrified of this.

....i don't know how to connect to people, i want to.

... i don't know how to be a part of things, i want to.

... i am a mess. a mess that no one should have to clean up (fiona apple lyrics)

... i am terrified of being alone. despite the fact that i continue to push people away.

... i need someone to help me

Summertime Happiness.

 There is a carnival down the street from my house. A carnival man! Secretly, I love carnivals. The lights and the food and the sounds of safe screams. I especially can't get over the lights. I can spend all day/night staring at them.

                                      

Pure Bliss.

I Tumble

i haz a tumblr now (called With Love and Squalor) if you wanna check it out. I didn't think i would like tumblr but it's an easier way to blog with pictures and gifs on a daily basis. It's definitely not a replacement for this space but it's something i do regularly and that i enjoy posting to.I apologize in advance for all the vampire diaries pictures but the show is great and my obsession runs deep.


~Beckett

Some Days...

I can't help but be sad.

It's not as if things aren't going well for me these days. Because in a weird, i'm enjoying my 20 something life way, they are. I am okay with not having my shit together. I like hanging out with my friends. I like sleeping in late. I like flirting with cute boys and hanging out in cars with Kat. So, sure,  i don't make a lot of money. So i'm no closer to understanding what the hell i want to do with my life. But for the moment, taking it easy and enjoying the small things is what i need.

But every now and then, the sadness seeps in. I am consumed by thoughts of Her. I am consumed by all the shit she decided to miss out on. And i get sad in a way that I cannot explain. I have abandonment issues that stem from childhood. My father, a long time alcoholic, choose the bottle over his family (the root of said abandonment issues) and from then on stupid things make me believe people would rather leave me than make things work.

I use to have this horrible fear that my mom would trade me and my brother in for better kids if she had the chance. I remember when I was in the 3rd grade I accidentally knocked over a plant in our house. We had carpet at the time and the plant made a huge mess. I tried to scrub the dirt out with water and soap which only caused the dirt to smear on the carpet, ruining it the  harder i scrubbed. I went into full  panic mood at this point because my mom left my brother and I for a few minutes to go to the store and in small span of an hour,  I ruined the carpet.

The only thing running through my head at that point was that other kids wouldn't have been so clumsy. Other kids wouldn't have knocked over a plant on new carpet. And that my mom would never forgive me for the stain that would always remind her of the time i fucked up. And i thought then, with tears in my eyes, that she had every right to replace me if she ever had the chance too. Because she deserved better than me.

Of course, when she came home, she quickly assured me that the stain on the carpet, and the death of the plant, were no big deal. She did her awesome mom thing and made me feel better about the whole situation. If I remember correctly we ended up moving a desk over the spot and after awhile it became another part of the decor. But i still remember how i felt that night. That dreadful fear that she would abandon me because of the incident. That that is what people do when it came to me. They tolerate me for so long until the opportunity arises where i can be replaced.

This has been a huge delay in the healing process for me. I am devastated by Marie's suicide. There are days when I can't comprehend that she is gone. That she is never coming back. I pretend that we are just taking a break from our friendship because we have grown distant. That she is just in Wisconsin (where she said she wanted to live once) going on with her life just as I am mine. Because that fantasy is much easier than the reality. It allows me to steer clear of feelings that she abandoned me. That I wasn't enough to make her stay.

And while I can write this, and cry, and feel sad, and put my grief into some sort of fuzzy perspective I am not open about this with my friends and family. I smile and grin and have seemingly adjusted well to the death of my best friend. It's hard to conceptualized that in the 7 months since her death i have blossomed into this.... better version of myself (from others POV not my own). I've lost some weigh, grown and cut my hair, become a skirt wearing chick and welcomed social interaction like a champ. I go to bars (irregulary, but more than i have), i'm invited to do things with people i love and adore.... and i have a tattoo! At tattoo! And am getting a piercing this weekend (long story)

Everyone seems to like the new Beckett. The girl with the edge and the crude jokes and the willingness to try new things. The girl who is open and outspoken, polite yet scrappy. The girl who is less timid and self conscious. She is a hit. She is me now in a lot of ways, with her combat boots and low skirts and new attitude. She is the me I see in the morning when i wake up and the me before i go to bed....except when she's not.

Because underneath the bravado and the grin, underneath the adjustment and the ease with which i have slipped into this new life I think about my best friend every day. I think of the me before she went away.And the sadness comes flooding back.

I often go back to the day she died and feel pressure in my head because i remember how hard i cried the night she died. And the old me is back. The facade falls apart. And i am suffocated by grief suddenly. But i don't have anyone to talk to about it because everyone around me thinks that i am okay. Why wouldn't they, i am good at pretending. So when i do get sad they don't even associate it with her death. It's all 'why are you so sad? is it the weather? your period? a boy break your heart? And i give this incredulous look because i am surprised they don't relate my sadness to her death.

On sunday i went to work after a morning of crying because I heard Marie's laugh in my head (memories are often triggered suddenly). I avoided everyone. Kept my head down. Made little  eye contact. My safety net against grief. When Sean came in he saw that I was upset, pulled me to the side, asked what was wrong. I told him that Marie was on my mind, he made a face like 'oh' and said we could talk in the back if it made me feel better. So we did. But he tried to pull me in for a hug first to comfort me. I pulled away because around people i'm not sure how grief is suppose to look. It feels excruciating, sometimes empty. Like a puzzle you've lost some pieces to. This is what the picture, me, is suppose to look like (a girl healing after the loss of her friend. look how well she has adjusted), except you've come to the end of my puzzle and realize a few pieces are missing. No matter how close you've come to the completing the picture, the missing pieces prevent it from every being whole. I will always feel like a puzzle not quite finished.

When i shrugged his hug and attempt to comfort me away he asked me to open up about what was in my head. Since he's working on being more sympathetic i need to work on not being a wall. But i'm not sure  how to do that. Because my grief  isn't as easy as missing her. Marie could be a terrible person. She wasn't nice. She wasn't friendly. She hated everyone. And sometimes I hated her. Not all the time. But some of the time. And my sadness has much to do with her death as it does with anger and disappointment and my own fears that I will end up like her.

But i can't say this. I can't. I can't. I don't admit this. And i wasn't about to to him of all people. So i put on an act. I played angry Beckett first: "i just wanna be left alone, dont touch me" *pushes cute boy away*. I played sad Beckett: I sat down on a stack of boxes and pouted up at him, i teared up and shook my head. He grabbed my hand and slid to the floor with me. He rubbed my thigh and told me that he was there to talk if i wanted him too. That he'd stay with me, in the awkward position, until i opened up. Crying Beckett followed soon after: "i just get so fucking sad Sean. I can't explain it. She's really gone isn't she". And he touched the side of my hair and told me that it was going to be okay.

I cried as much on the inside as I attempted to on the outisde.

Because I felt so numb afterwards. Dumb numb. I felt unresolved. I felt like a phony. Because with Sean I want my grief to look fragile. I need it to look that way with him because I want him to want to take care of the broken girl. I want the thigh touching and comforting stare. And it's not just with him that i am not authentic about my grief. With Kat I want my grief to look like progress. That while i am suffering i am stepping out of my shell and becoming a person again. With my mom I want my grief to look like strength, that Marie's death has taught me to value my own life. And while these are all accurate pictures of my grief (and healing process) these last couple of months, it doesn't capture the full truth. Because I am still struggling with what I need grief to be and look like for myself.

I am conflicted because I miss her and yet i hate what she did. I feel abandoned by her in the greatest sense. That she opted to leave instead of tough it out with me. And her death makes me feel like i did when i was kid, scrubbing away at the carpet with all my might, wishing that it (the carpet, the dead plant, the newness the stain brought) could just go back to the way it was before everything came crashing down.

 Some days, it's all i can think of.