Difficult Women

Last night I had a dream I was drowning. Or rather, I had a dream someone was trying to drown me.

I've been watching a lot of shows and reading a lot of books about "difficult" women. It seems fitting with everything going on in the world that I turn to complex and honest representation of women in the arts for comfort and perhaps hope. If you haven't seen the Handmaid's tale, you should. If you haven't read Shrill by Lindy West, you need to. Even Big Little Lies was an extraordinary series about womanhood, despite how much I hated the book.

In 2017, being a women is still incredibly hard and for the first time in my lifetime I see myself and identify myself as a women and not just a girl anymore. This is a very hard admission; one that actually occurred after reading one of those age related list (things to do before you are 30) on Buzzfeed that suddenly I was excluded from. By a whole damn year of all things. I have some how surpassed that "I'm not a girl, not yet a woman" phase and am aware that despite the fact that yes, I ate waffles for dinner last night wearing a buffy t-shirt while watching a marathon of Top Chef on Hulu...I am not really a girl anymore.

Don't get me wrong, I have more girlish moments than womanly ones but as I watch the world unfold around me, as I try to circumvent my life and figure out my wants, I recognize that my anxieties and fears and apprehensions and even dread have much to do with the fact that I am a woman all of a sudden. I have this newly acquired agency, one of those being my womanhood, in a world which constantly tells me I am less than. And this is terrifying.

So it's no wonder that I had a dream last night about drowning. I was on vacation with my dream husband and dream best friend. We had a house on the lake with a small boat port overlooking the water. My dream husband starts walking down the port towards the boat and that's when my dream best friend tells me she has been sleeping with my husband. I am of course filled with rage and anger and even a little bit of jealousy. She saunters after him and it is at this moment that I yell that i have been sleeping with her husband (his best friend) because I am full of spite and fury. She charges at me and I fall into the water. There is a moment where I am sinking, sinking, sinking towards what can only be the abyss and then suddenly I am gasping for air and swimming towards the shore.

My husband(now also in the water) is shouting at me. He is wearing a red shirt, so I almost mistake him for a life vest, I think he is there to save me despite both of our betrayals . But instead of rescuing me, he grabs at my legs and starts to drag me back under water where I can't breathe. There is a struggle and flailing limbs. There is so much water, I am blinded by it until there is nothing but the sea. And then I wake up because where else was my crazy drowning dream supposed to go. I was drowning.

I wonder if the dream has anything to do with my own feelings of being a "difficult' woman. Of my sudden feeling of submergence. Because in my transition from difficult girl, to difficult teen to difficult young adult, I know that I was born to be a difficult woman. I was born to want things that I shouldn't want and to say things i shouldn't say and act in ways that are counter productive to what is expected of my "gender" And for most of my life I have been proud of this title, even when i didn't know it applied to me, because there hasn't been any direct consequence.

But now, I feel on borrowed time. Now I feel as if I am supposed to all of a sudden know exactly what I want in life so I can set the course of my future. But i honestly don't know what I want. I never have. It's a part of what has and will always make me difficult. But when I was a  teenager that's to be expected, when I was in college this directionless, without a clue way of life was okay, in my 20's it's pretty much what was to be expected. But now i'm in my 30's it feels a little irresponsible and scary because I am still this difficult person who is now struggling to stay afloat. I often feel like I am flailing in turbulent waters, and no matter which way I turn, I am no closer to the shore.

Maybe I should stop overthinking it all.  Maybe I should look at all the small achievements I have thus far accomplished. Maybe I shouldn't be so hard on myself.

California

When I first moved to New York, I befriended this awesome chick named Angie who seemed to be going through the same "what the fuck am I doing with my life" post college crisis as I was. Everyone seems to forget the financial crisis of 2008, except a) people who lost a shit ton of money and b) graduates who couldn't find a job right out of college. I knew nothing about finance or politics or the real world 9 years ago, I still don't, but i do remember graduating college, moving to New York and struggling to find a real job. This struggle l lasted 6 1/2 years.

Luckily I was the only one suffering. The only job that would hire me was the bookstore and  I was pretty disappointed but glad to be surrounded by other disillusioned people. Post grad life was supposed to be a breeze. I was going to land my dream job in publishing and move to the city and date a cute boy from Scotland (my dreams always include a cute boy from Scotland). I was supposed to be living the life. Instead, my first job was as a bookseller making minimum wage. I lived in a closet sized room at my aunts house (before she kicked me out) AND I missed home. I missed it a lot.

Things only  started to perk up a little when I met Angie. She was a few years older than me and began working at the bookstore after getting laid off from her "real world job". She was this boisterous, loud, funny, awkward, flirtatious, brilliant girl from the Midwest who I immediately got along with. She was my first real friend in New York and for a few solid months we hung out almost everyday. She lived right down the street from my aunts house, so before going home, I'd stop by her apartment so we could drink alcohol and discuss feminism, politics, books, men and pop culture.

I was only ever used to having Amanda  as my friend, I was almost grateful when Angie came around.  I didn't think I was capable of making friends because my anxiety was still very crippling at that time. And all of a sudden here was this girl who was nothing like me who wanted to be my friend. We ate dinner together and spent days off in the city shopping for books and laughing. Sometimes she would even call me in the middle of the night to ask if i wanted to go driving with her. She was a night owl, so we'd take to the back-roads at midnight and just drive around and talk about everything in our heads. It's one of my earliest and fondest memories of New York feeling like home.

During Barack Obama's inauguration, we both took the day off and made "American cupcakes" at her apartment. We camped out in front of the tv for hours, eating red, white and blue cupcakes and crying as we watched him get sworn in. We also did incredibly dumb things, like the  night we decided to rent In the Cut because we heard there was a full frontal Mark Ruffalo scene. After work, we went to her apartment discussed the brilliant book by Susanna Moore and then freeze framed the full frontal shot of Mark Ruffalo as we critiqued his penis and drank Vodka Lemonade.  We both approved in our giggly tipsy state.

Her friendship during those dark post college months made things bearable and when she moved back home a few months later, due to finances, I was devastated. Of course we promised to keep in touch and would visit but it didn't feel the same when she left. I'd only known her a few months but I felt like i'd lost something huge.

Surprisingly, we've managed to stay in touch the last 8 years which is a feat with someone as flaky and nonchalant as myself. She's made treks back to New York occasionally to attend a wedding and she always makes a point of contacting me so we can catch up. We talk every so often during the year  just to catch up and there is an ease and sustenance to our friendship that makes me happy to know her even from afar.

So when I posted on FB that i was heading to CA this summer, she let me know she is now living in San Francisco and would love to catch up! I am excited and nervous about this mini reunion, especially since I know we are now going through the same "what the fuck am I supposed to be doing with my life" stage.

I am reading this book called The Rules Do Not Apply, and so far it's the book I didn't know I needed. It's a memoir about loss. The author loses her child and spouse, and way of life in the span of a year and I think it's about how she manages to confront those loses head on. It's been on my radar for months and I finally got my hands on and spent a few nights after work pouring through chapters. Of course, her writing is beautiful and tragic and I am obsessed with every word because I relate in many ways.

I must admit, I am at a turning point in my life. It's not a crisis like the quarter-life or mid but it is definitely an apex or a fork in the road. Sure I have a full time job, money in a savings account, a car and an apartment. Sure there is the occasional outing, or dinner date, or weekend having brunch with a friend. Sure, I am comfortable and even clear headed these days but I can't shake the feeling of loneliness. Like actual loneliness. I can go days with out social interactions or plans. I have stability but feel starved of an actual foundation.

I can't shake this feeling that I am missing out on the life I really want for myself. A life that is filled with a friends and family and love. A life where I am needed and supported and depended on.

In many ways I have survived loss already. But I never imagined that loss comes in many different forms. I don't miss working at the bookstore, I don't miss Sean, I don't miss the codependency of my friendship with Kat. But I do miss what each represented. I miss belonging. I miss that feeling like never before because I've lost it. And though the bookstore and Kat and Sean especially were never really mine by choice, I miss having friends, i miss having a romantic partner, I miss being apart of a clique and crew and knowing my place.

There is a huge and distinctive loss in my life and some how in living and surviving and fighting for every damn penny, I've lost some things in the process I didn't know I needed so much. And i want them back, not in their previous fucked up form, but in the versions that I deserve and that compliment whoever it is that i am now. And i just don't know how to go about getting those things. They feel unattainable and yet also on the tip of my tongue.

So for now I am just sort of existing and going through the motions even though it's not enough for me anymore. In about a month, i'll be on my way California for a week and I kind of hope when I return I can begin setting things in motion. That I can maybe live up to my full potential (which is risky and scary and gives me anxiety) instead of just sitting on the side-lines.

nolite te bastardes carborundorum

Mondays are the absolute worst. I'd hope this sentiment was just another adult lie, like eating healthy is fun and watching your friends have children and getting wedding invites is exciting. They aren't. I want to eat whatever I want and not have to worry about gaining a ton of weight. And while I am happy that my friends are settling, I have no interest in attending so many weddings. Just stop it! 

But  every single person who hates Monday is absolutely correct. It's just the worst day of the week and though I spend most of Sunday prepping myself to have a better Monday than the last, it never fails. Monday rolls around and kicks my ass again.I can't deal.

Over the weekend, a customer sent an email to my company complaining about their website. As I am the only customer service representative in the company, my stomach sort of dropped when i saw the email. I'd never spoken to the office or dealt with them directly regarding their website but my primary job is overseeing edits and making sure IT makes corrections when needed.

So i was a little taken aback by the email. Something was on their website that shouldn't have been there and they couldn't understand how this big of a mistake could be made. I was equally confused. I checked all of my emails to see if I could have made this mistake. If I could have accidentally overlooked this technical error. But I couldn't find one piece of evidence. The mistake must have gone through another channel.

Knowing this gave me some relief if i can be honest. I am a person who takes full responsibility for my mistakes and will go out of my way to amend the mistake as soon as possible. But i don't like feeling guilty for something that wasn't my fault. I am sensitive to this sort of blame. So when i couldn't find anything that lead me to be a fault  I spent the next two days not thinking about work at all. I shopped for vacation clothe,  I cleaned my house and watched a shit load of movies.  You know, the usual care-free weekend.

But then Monday rolled around and as soon as I get to work, before I can even put down my bag I hear Creepy Guy talking about the massive error on the client's website. He says he found the culprit and then goes into my managers office and loudly proclaims that it was done by one of the IT guys per a marketing persons requests. The IT guy uploaded the wrong files and that is why the massive error was on the site BUT despite the evidence he was more concerned that "Beckett didn't catch the error a few weeks ago because you know, she should have"

Asaywhat?!

I could not control my anger. Let me break down his logic.  I should have caught the error on a website that I have never worked on, never seen because an IT guy was given explicit orders to make the edit without me knowing and fumbled it somehow. I should have caught an error for a site, I was never notified was being worked on. I should have known to double check someone else's work despite not knowing this person was working on said site.

The logic is flawed and while I am pissed I am not surprised that I got blamed for a mistake that a) wasn't my fault at all and b) happened a month ago. My job is killing me. Killing me. This is not what I am supposed to be doing with my life, at all, and i am trying not to let the "bastards get me down" but I am frustrated and angry.

I try not to complain because it's my first real job and I am grateful as hell to be able to pay rent and food and clothes without having to sacrifice things. I broke my fitbit watch last week and I was able to buy a new one because I now have a savings account for emergencies (grant it, the watch wasn't an emergency but I am so used to having a fitbit watch, it was weird not having one).  I am grateful that I was able to buy a car and book a vacation to California this summer because of my okay paying gig.  But outside of my paycheck, my job is an absolute clusterfuck.

Last week a girl got fired because she got into an argument with a really annoying marketing guy. I wouldn't even call it an argument. It was a disagreement. Unfortunately, the guy she argued with has been with the company for 5 years and she was immediately let go because they thought she brought too much drama to the company. This is the same company that doesn't have an HR department to handle such disagreement appropriately One the day they let her go my boss waited until the end of the day and asked everyone to leave the office for 15 minutes so he could fire her and leave the office with no one around. I was mortified.

My job is just a mess and days like today and I annoyed that I am not doing what I was meant to do. Don't get me wrong, I have no clue what my "calling" is but I know it isn't this. It can't be, right?
I am trying to hold on until after my vacation next month. I want to just enjoy a week in California with my brother and mom and then figured out the life stuff later. Cause unfortunately, i have a lot of life stuff to figure out and it's sort of piling up.

Photographic Evidence of my Existence

Sorry for the absence. Per usual, blogging is taking a backseat to general life stuff and every time I think I have the time or the energy to write something that notion is quickly squashed.

I promise I will write a real post soon. Even if it's a short update on the happenings in my life. Until then here's a pictures of my reading/writing corner. If anything, i've spent the last few weeks shopping and decorating my apartment in preparation for another hot and disgusting summer.

~Becks

13 Reasons Why

I just finished watching Thirteen Reasons Why on Netflix and of course I am now a bubbling, triggered mess of tears and puffy eyes and general sadness. I am struck by the  honest the portrayal of grief and growing pains and disconnectedness. I am struck by my connection to both Hannah (the girl who dies) and Clay (the boy who loved and lives). I am struck by how guttural my grief still is and how scared that I continue to grow and evolve around this giant aspect of myself.

This series is fantastic though it will take me days to get out of this grief funk that continues to surface from time to time.

United States of Whatever

Our last (hopefully) snowstorm of the winter killed my car battery and I just spent an hour sitting in the lobby of Mavis while they restored my baby back to life.

As expected the lure of a snowstorm was quickly replaced by real world annoyance. Shoveling, bundling up, avoiding ice and trying to revive a dead battery. I attempted to call out of work the day after the snow storm because overnight the snow just turned into ice and I was worried about driving. My work from home day was pretty successful so I figured I could manage working from home again.

That idea was quickly shot down by my boss who seems not to like me personally but loves me professionally. It's hard to explain but as usual i'll try. He likes Patricia so much, I think he assumed no one would be able to replace her when she could no longer manage customer service and her new role in the company. Because of this he gave me the hardest time when I first started. He made snide critiques about how long it took me to learn something. He'd reprimand me via Patricia about minute details that i had little to no control over and once he got so agitated by my presence he spent 15 minutes talking to her about how i wouldn't measure up. This all occurred week one.

If you are wondering why I didn't quit then, it's because I was poor. I was struggling to pay my rent, struggling to feed myself, struggling to commute back and forth. I was sick of going on interviews and having to prove I was a competent and good worker.  Everything around me was falling apart: Sean, the bookstore, the university job, my health...so I took the first job that was offered to me and vowed to stick it out. I had no choice. So even after that first week where I was made to look like a complete and utter fool, even when my boss treated me like I did not belong there...i stuck it out.

Of course, I quickly proved that I was a good employee but  also much better at Patricia's job than she was. My boss and Patricia tried to continually find errors in my work only to come up with....nothing. Despite my anxiety and general discomfort with people, I excel at customer service. I like being helpful, I like resolving things. When given a task, I am willing to go above and beyond to complete it. So at work, I am a champion employee.

Patricia resents this because it makes her look dumb and my boss refuses to accept that he was wrong about me while also taking all the credit for how great of an employee I am. Because of this how he treats me vs. how he talks about me are two different things. I feel like I am in an emotionally abusive relationship. I am praised for my work, I am told how much of an asset I am but he always gives me shit if I take a day off and has reprimanded me for minor errors. If i make a spelling mistake or answer the phone a ring too late he expresses legit disdain.

On Friday he raised his voice at me because I wanted to handle a client situation in a way that would provide a permanent solution not a temporary one. He did not like this one bit and felt inconveienced when I offered a solution that would require more work then he is accustomed to. He didn't chew me out or yell at me, but he definitely raised his voice and attempted to put in my place which was unnecessary. This exchange happenned the day after my failed attempt to call out. He called me 10 minutes after I sent in my "i'm not coming to work today email" and offered to pay for my cab ride to and from work if i came in. "it's better if you are here" he begged and like an asshole, I went in.

I am frustrated by my job. It's is a poorly run, disorganized place that just happens to pay well. I am anxious to work anywhere else, especially since my skills are sort of exemplary. I like working, I like being useful, I like being good at something and because I am not so great at a lot of things, being a great employee has to suffice for now. But I am worried about the economy, I am worried about health insurance, I am worried about being laid off, I am worried about making a big change in this 'climate" and having things come crashing down suddenly.

I live in a perpetual state of real world anxiety. I am finally providing for myself and strengthening my skills. I am finally on the path to a healthy, stable life. But that seems up in the air now. I want to find a new job, a job that will turn into a career for me. I want to buy a home. I want to be in a committed relationship. I want to travel and see the world. And I can still do all of these things, sure, but it isn't without a level of complete and utter dread.

I never really understood how closely my quality of life was related to the stability of my country. But now I know and strongly believe that it is. I am afraid to make any moves in any direction because I am fearful of: war, economic collapse, isolationism, populism, racism. It's absolutely insane and yet here I am...unable to move. Paralyzed partially because of instability.

This summer my mom, brother and I are going to California. We've been planning this trip for a year. The tickets are purchased, the hotel booked and plans solidified. I am excited but also terribly nervous. I keep talking about the trip as if it isn't going to happen. As if some calamity will prevent us from heading out west in a few months. I hate that I live in this state of preparedness. That things are so bad I a) cannot appreciate the good (i'm going to California!) and b) that I am expecting things in the states to get worse.  Worse than they already are.

I have to find a way to channel my anxiety because right now it is paralyzing me. I am unable to take any of the big steps I finally feel prepared to take because of what is going on around me. But I want to miss out on opportunities: growth, love, adventure and hell even a new job because of things that are out of my control. I have to find a way to breathe and live while the world I know and love unravels.

Stella

I am working from home today because, well, I live in the northeast and after months of complaining that we have yet to have a proper workday snowstorm...bam, a blizzard in the middle of the March. Sorry, everyone. Finally my prayers to the snow goddess worked.

My dad says I'm officially a New Yorker again because while snow is beautiful and meditative, I tend to favor Fall and Spring. I am only tolerate of snow the weeks leading up to Christmas. After that, the idea of shoveling, bundling up, avoiding slush and of course the dreaded "yellow" snow makes me resent the soft yet thunderous flakes.

With snow everything is only beautiful and peaceful when it's coming down and we are all tucked inside. It's only truly magical untouched. Sans footprints, or car tracks or worse when it begins to dissolve. Snow, for me, is only beautiful when it covers everything and stalls time.

I feel a kinship to Snow. I had Scarlett fever when I was a baby and almost died and a snowstorm saved my life. My mom tells this story all the time because I enjoy listening to it. Her seeing me blue lipped and unresponsive. Her freaking out and crying because she thought I was dying. She wanted to have another child (me) because she decided to leave my father. She didn't want my brother to grow up alone. She felt she could survive leaving my father as a family of three not two. So when she found out she was pregnant, she decided after I was born that she would leave my dad.

When she found me unresponsive that night, she had no clue it was because of Scarlet Fever. She just knew I was suffering. She called the ambulance who were on their way to us but she was frantic and instead of waiting in the house she decided to take me outside in a snowstorm. Her family is from the south, from an Island off the Coast of Charleston that is full of superstitious people. I can only imagine that in her moment of sheer terror at losing the child, she thought nature would save me. Or at least that the snow would reduce my fever.

So she carried me outside. Knelt in front of our house where the snow was already 3 inches or more high and she used the snow as a blanket around me. When she tells the story, it always sounds like she buried me in a shallow snow grave. She covered my whole body except for head and feet until my fever resided. She says I didn't move for a few seconds but then suddenly jolted back with a cry, not of pain but maybe of life. And when the ambulance finally arrived we were both covered in snow while cradled me in her arms.

So I get snow. I understand it. I am thankful every year for at least one big snow storm to jolt back me back to life. Sure, I am elated about Spring and flowers and sunlight and skirts but I am always grateful for a little snow. It always seems so restorative and quiet because everything for a brief moment is untouched and stilled.

Birthday Outing

Hashtag 31

I'll probably delete this cause ya'll know how I feel about privacy. But I'm 31 today. 31. 

Birthday

Tomorrow I turn 31. Oh. My. Gawd. I cannot comprehend this.


Today I woke up around 7, took a shower, ate breakfast and read a few chapters from an Ocativa Butler book. Once I was satisfied with ending at the right moment in the book (and fully caffeinated), I decided to get dress so I could head to work. 

I got my hair done this weekend, so I was feeling extra pretty today. I decided to wear my black denim jeans, a low cropped grey t-shirt under a light black hoodie. I paired this with a fake leather jacket because Spring is around the corner and I am over long puffy coats. I finished the look with my black combat boots that always make me feel badass and feminine.

As I was leaving my apartment, I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. These days, I am often struck by my appearance and the way I carry myself. I am 30 years old. I am less anxious, more grounded and okay in my skin. I am more aware of who I am, which makes me worry less about how others see me.

With my straight jet black hair hitting the collar of my leather jacket, My thin face eclipsed by huge brown eyes...I was overcome by the person starring back at me. I've come so far since college, and post college and Marie's death.

I am the same 19 year old girl who wore layers of clothing to hide my chubbiness. I am the same 21 year old who spent her birthday alone playing the sims. I am the same 22 year old who cried on the subway after saying goodbye to my mom. I am the same 25 year old who lost her best friend suddenly and fell to pieces. I am the same 28 year old who caressed a horrible boy to sleep a few nights before he departed for the Navy.

And yet despite everything...I am also this entirely new person. A person that surprises me everyday. A person who speaks her mind, is flirtatious, is confident and fiercely independent. A person who pays bills, and drives a car and makes doctors appointment. A person who makes decisions and frets about life and is contemplative. A person who still struggles everyday with congruence and wholeness. A person who still seeks balance on the tip-rope.

I turn 31 tomorrow, and it strikes me how profound and momentous that is.

Loneliness.

My mind is very muddled these days and honestly, for the most part, I am not coping or managing. Between daily anxiety attacks and little energy to do much of anything...things are not well for me mentally. I am struggling to step out of myself and just breathe. There are things I can control, there are things I cannot and these two realizations will never ever find middle ground.

This insanity that is life these days would be easier to manage if I had actual friends. But I am suddenly a friendless, hapless, 30 year old. I do not regret ending my friendship with Kat. It was necessary but she was kind of the reason I had so many people in my life. She was the beautiful popular one who befriended the small and socially awkward girl. She was like knowing the bouncer of a club I would otherwise be denied from. And now that we aren't friends, I don't have much of a support group around me. My access has been revoked.

I have not been this alone since college and I must admit returning to this alone-ness is strange. Familiar, survivable but strange. I suddenly don't exist as I used to. This is only really evident when I want to do something and realize I don't have anyone to do them with. Heather, my only real friend at the moment. is only accessible on her time. She's sort of straight forward about this,  so I am not offended or hurt. .When she needs to do something (shopping, movies, eating lunch) that she doesn't want to do alone, she'll ask me to go because she knows I am available. It's a little isolating and we haven't really hung out much these last few weeks because she has a life very independent of our friendship.

My non-existent social life  is a direct correlation to my increasing anxiety. Don't get me wrong... I am very much an introverted person. I struggle to express myself verbally, I need "me" time, I am a fan of silence...but loneliness is not something I enjoy. They are two different entities. Life is simply about sharing experiences and moments with people you choose to have in your life. Whether it's a handful or a few chosen few.  It is about interconnecte-ness. It is about love, in all it's various forms. And I miss having bonds with people. I miss feeling needed and loved.

So of course I am an anxious and messy these days. Of course I am vulnerable and sensitive to everything around me because I don't have the comfort of friends to assuage my fears. Left to my own devices I am a paranoid, sullen and un-centered person. I am not my best self. I recognize now that  you can be an introvert and still required the presences of people to thrive. Sometimes that gets lost in the conversation of introversion and extroversion.

With spring approaching I hope to curb this hopelessness. I need to be more social. I have to make friends. I have to be a part of a community again. I worry about my alone-ness, not on a large scale but on a small intimate scale. My birthday is a week away, I will be 31 years old and I have no one to share the day with.  I worry that my alone-ness is permanent. That I have missed the window for connections. On a large scale this thought terrifies me. On a small scale, this thought ignites my resolve to do something so my life feels...centered again.

Sides of History

I am officially on Melatonin again. Yay for insomnia and general stress induced awfulness.

I am a person deeply affected by my environment. When things are good, I am good. When things are not great, well...

 Last summer I was perhaps at my peak good-ness. I'd been at my job for a few months and was starting to make real money.  Kat and I were in-sync with our friendship and spending quality  healthy time together.  I was in-shape and athletic and learning to accept my body as it surprised and changed. My apartment was also just beginning to feel like home, I was buying furniture and establishing a routine for myself that accommodated my new life. My life felt new last summer. There was no Sean, no bookstore, no vertigo. There was just this feeling of peace because things were falling together for once.

 So much has changed. Everything feels fucked.

I haven't had a good nights sleep in 14 days. How has it only been  14 days since T***p was sworn in as our "president". I use this phrase lightly. I won't apologize for how politically themed my journal entries will be these days, weeks, month and/or years. This is not democracy were are living in. I am stunned by how quickly things have changed as a citizen. I am fearful of going to sleep at night because I know I will wake up to another ghastly breaking news advent. Every day since T***p has been president has been a nightmare.

I am not okay and this has nothing to do with party lines, or gender lines or race lines. I am not okay because as a human being the last 14 days have been ghastly to watch and be apart of. For the first time, in my whole entire life, I am ashamed of my country. I also do not say this lightly but I am ashamed that differences in how we choose to govern has allowed us to abandon basic decency. How did we get to this point in history where a madman is at the helm and everyone is sort of directionless as he targets women, Muslims, minorities, the economy, nature

I stay away from the news as much as possible but Twitter is a helluva drug. It keeps me aware enough to stay "woke" but not too engrossed that I end up terrified and unable to function as a human being. But even with these limiting strategies, i am anxious and crabby and not well these days. After the Muslim ban last Friday, I think i may have cried myself to sleep...something I have not done in a very long time.

I wanted to participate in the protests that weekend but protesting alone is not something I feel comfortable doing. Outside of the Women's March, Heather is pretty uninterested in participating in future demonstrations and as my only friend...she'd be the only one I could attend these protests with at the moment. But she has decided to take a more passive approach to the turmoil happening in front of us. She seems only affected by some offenses (the ones against women) rather than all offenses and this is sort of bothersome.

Were it not for my anxiety or alone-ness I'd attend every demonstration there was. I am against the ban, I am against the wall, I am against reversing Roe Vs. Wade, I am against the pipeline. I am against fascism and sexism and racism and any forms of legislation that will harm the economy and the environment. But I feel alone is in my empathy for every single group negatively affected by his administration.  And though I feel a kinship and appreciation and respect for all of the people out there protesting. I am not sure what my role is yet as I am paralyzed with fear and disgust for the world I am now apart of.

 5 days a week I am at work where everyone appears to be going about their life as usual. And not because we aren't allowed to talk politics at work, but because everyone is so damn young and self absorb I can't imagine they even notice the world is falling apart. I feel like I am living in two different narratives: one where the world I see it is a complete and utter disaster. One where racism and sexism and populism (fascism) have been normalized. And the other world, where where this is either seen as okay or the indifference masks how utterly indecent the world now is.

I am baffled. I am scared. I am uninterested in participating in any discussions other than making this situation better. I do not want to be on the wrong side of history. I don't want to passively sit around as things fall apart. But I feel immobilized. I am without merit.

 I regret spending four years obtaining  just a BA in English. I wish I would have gone to law school or at least taken some civics classes. I wish I knew more about how the world runs, how the government governs and the steps to take to make things better. Instead, I am anxious and a little hopeless. I am afraid because I imagine things will only get worse from here.

And living in this state of fear is beginning to take its toll. I am obsessed with the fallout. I am behind the wheel of my car, and there is a accident on the shoulder and I know I need to focus on where I am going but I crane my neck regardless to bear witness. And this constant state of fear has just made me bitter and scared. It paralyzes me. I am exhausted, tired and scared. I just hope I can channel this despair into real energy. Right now, it has lead to sleeplessness and depression. 

Human

I started high school during the election of 2000. I was 13 years old and not  interested in politics or the news but the contentious election year was something that was always in the foreground. My mom was glued to CNN and the three of us spent many nights in the living room camped out in front of the TV listening to distrust from many about George Bush

I was 13 years old so my moms fears quickly became my own. At the time, there weren't any dystopian  teen novels to read to assuage my fears. They didn't exist, if I can be honest. I had Orwell and Nevil Shute, Huxley, Burgess and Bradbury but the tales of  tyranny seemed oddly outdated though set in a future closer to my own.

I remember being afraid, because I was told to be afraid. Bush could not be good for this county. He would not be good for minorities or women or the middle-class. We were heading into dangerous times, was the pervading words I heard and lived by for eight years.

Sixteen years later I feel like an asshole for thinking Bush was the worst we could get. He was not. He wasn't great but he wasn't the worst. The worst is now. The worst is signing executive orders left and right that delegitimize American citizens. The worst is tweeting about how the worst is yet to come. The worst is promoting "alternative facts" and a shrewd disregard for values counterproductive to the populist movement. Democracy is fragile. I know this now because we are stepping further and further away from her.

 I will lay out my facts for you.  I am scared. I repeat, I am scared. Embarrassed. Mortified. Ashamed.  Scared. I hope that following my life journey these last 10 years makes these fear valid to anyone who is reading.. I am scared, this is not the America I know or love. This is not democracy at hand.

This weekend I marched with my friend Heather in the city. It was peaceful, restorative and full of kind passionate and frightened individuals.  In my 30 years I did not think I have to brave the cold with millions of other women, children and men to march peacefully about unity. But there I was, with stranger turned friends struggling to make sense of the world.

I am afraid of the unknown. Days after the march, it seems as if everyone is just accepting this absurdity as the new norm. It is strange how history repeats itself. How we tell ourselves we won't ever return to some moment in time...only to arrive at it's door.

I am anxious and afraid and despondent. I am leaderless. I feel country-less. 

i'm scared....

what if the economy crashes.

what if women rights are diminished.

what is someone legalizes the right to tell me what is or is not best for my body.

what if I lose my job, because the country goes bankrupt.

what if the price of gas rises. 

what if my 'blackness' becomes something people can hurl hateful words towards.

what if a wall is built.

what if racism and sexism and homophobia are normalized.

what if there is a rise in hate crimes (especially towards Muslims).

what if the Affordable Health Care is repealed.

what if we go to war.

what if there is another shooting.

what if Russian had implict role in the election.

what if we take 17 million steps back in the wrong direction

what if we don't survive "this" whatever this is

I am scared. I am petrified. And please don't tell me that I shouldn't be afraid. I am scared. I am petrified and I am not handling any of this well.

Women's March

This Saturday I am attending the Women's March in the city. I have never felt so much disdain, disgust and hopeless since the election results and I want to be a part of something important. My mom is a mini history buff. Growing up she would make my brother and I learn about dead presidents and other historical figures. I have and always been proud to be an American because I recognize that our freedom is unparalleled.

But as a minority and a women, I also recognize that these freedoms were not always so easy to obtain for people like me. Until a week ago I used to read under the American Flag that faced my reading chair. I bought it soon after Sean graduated from the Navy because I was feeling super patriotic. Even after the Sean debacle, I still found solace in the colors and the stars and the stripes. I felt comfort for the country of my birth and now my choice.

This weekend I took the flag down. Folded it properly and placed it on the top shelf of my closet. It may return when i feel decency and democracy has return. In it's place is now a quote by Tina Fey. 

I was told not to worry, that things would not be so bad but dammit all to hell if am not feeling a little less confidant in this county I love. Dammit all to hell, as I scratch my head in  bewilderment. Democracy seems to be falling apart around me and everyone is shrugging it off as the new norm.

So I've decided to March this Saturday. And any and all Saturday's after that. I've decided to get involve and use my voice for good.  I've decided to voice my concerns. I may not have voted for this candidate but I am a citizen of these states that he is so flippant in disregarding

I am nervous and anxious and honestly, maybe even a little scared. But the stakes feel too high to let that get in the way of what's right.

.

Happy Holidays

I got the quiet, blissful Netflix filled Christmas of my dreams!

                                                                 Happy Holidays ya'll.

Ice Princess

Got my first parking ticket because I didn't know there were snow ordinances that frown on cars being parked on the street during a storm. 

I spent the better part of today, shoveling my car out of what can only be described as a car igloo and now my arms and back are sore. Oh and I have to pay my county $20 bucks for disobeying the law. 

Annoyed, cold and tired I made myself some spiked hot chocolate and watched the snow fall from the sky for about an hour. It was peaceful and unnerving.

I am ready for this month to be over. Christmas is a week away and as always I am more Grinch than Elf. My aunt is pissed at me because she wants me to spend the whole weekend at her apartment despite the fact that it is infested with roaches and my cousin Michelle is in no shape to be around anyone(she is now being homeschooled because her fake shakes are a distraction at school). 

I told my aunt  that I am sort of an adult now, with other holiday plans and while I do not mind spending a few hours with them on Christmas Eve I had other plans for Christmas Day. She called me out for being a disrespectful niece, though I think the main issue is that she is treating me like her daughter instead of tending to her actual daughter who she continues to neglect. 

It sucks that I don't have any actual plans on the day of Christmas outside of spending the day at my own house, opening presents and eating food. But honestly this is what I would prefer to do. I am still super anxious and cranky about the state of the world so the holidays feel like a mirage or worse a fog and I am sort of ready for the air to clear and for things to come into focus again. 

But I will try to enjoy the holidays as best as I can. Even though, I never want to see snow again thanks to shoveling it the whole afternoon, I must admit being curled up in bed, under the warmth of blankets with Christmas music playing in the background is heaven in a lot of ways. Pure heaven. 

5 Years Gone

5 years ago my best friend took her life.

When I was a kid, I used to like jumping from high things. I didn't necessarily like the jumping part but instead the sensation of falling was what I craved. The way the air suddenly gets trapped in your lungs on the way down and you feel weightless and afloat all at once.

The last few years in many ways have felt like the falling part except without the fearless pleasure of my childhood gusto. Instead, the fall has been more of a uncontrollable tumble and the air that is trapped in my lungs burn and ache. The fall does not feel weightless, it feels like drowning.

5 years ago my best friend took her life.  

We met on my first day of 7th grade. I had just moved to South Carolina and I felt the nervousness throughout my whole body that day. I was new,  not only to the school but to the town and the state. I was so nervous I thought I was going to die.

Maybe she noticed my awkwardness. Maybe she saw an opportunity to make friends with someone who didn't know she was the least popular girl in school. But at lunch that day, while I tried to be invisible and blend in, she sat down next to me and introduced herself. She had big frizzy hair and a mouth full of metal. She wore a shirt with horse on it and said I talked weird so that made me interesting.

She became my first and only true friend in South Carolina

5 years ago my best friend took her life.

We went Trick or Treating for the last time in the 8th grade. We were at that annoying age where we wanted free candy but felt too old to dress up for Halloween but also too young not to dress up and enjoy ourselves. Our friend Melissa's dad agreed to drive us around if we wanted to still go, so at the last minute we bought costumes and went Trick or Treating.

I dressed up as an angel in all white. Marie dressed up as a scary clown because she still did not equate Halloween with dressing provocatively. That night after hitting up several houses, I got my period in the back seat of our friends pick up truck and bled through my costume. I was embarrassed  and felt betrayed by my body. I felt even more tragic because I was dressed as an Angel the irony was heavy. Marie lent me her jacket that so I could wrap it around my waist. She also laughed and said this wouldn't have been an issue if I just dressed up as a devil instead.

5 years ago my best friend took her life.

We decided to join the AV club together our Freshman year of high school. This decision of course solidified our nerdiness but we got to hang out in the library during homeroom and lunch while also skipping mandated assemblies unless we were needed to video tap the events.

Along with the AV club, we joined the Debate team together. I was taking Speech class because I had a crush on the teacher and I was Honors English so I couldn't take his English class. Marie was a natural debater because she liked to disagree with everyone. Even though I was taking his Speech class, I initially declined my teachers invitation to join his Debate team. He thought I wrote well and had an eloquent voice and wanted me to be a part of his team. When I refused he went and asked Marie to have me join and because she was convincing I attended a Debate competition once.

The debate team carpooled to this event in a town a few hours away from us. I was nervous because I had only given speeches in front of the team and my teacher. He and Marie seemed most eager about my debut and when I failed to win any awards that day they both encouraged me to come with them to the next debate because I showed potential. I remember telling my speech teacher that I didn't plan on taking him up on that offer. He seemed disappointed by my rejection and on the way home, I slept on Marie's shoulder on the way home, while she teased me for being such a baby

5 years ago my best friend took her life. 


In the 11th grade our math teachers son killed himself. We knew her son Kyle because his older brother Barry was in the AV club with us. He was weird and withdrawn and only seemed to open up around Marie. She volunteered with Barry at the local animal shelter because he was 18 years old, and was her adult chaperon during their visits. When his brother Kyle, a freshman, killed himself were both shocked and confused because Barry seemed more susceptible to that kind of tragic end.

Our whole AV club attended the funeral out of respect and curiosity. We had never been this close to death before, it felt like our tragedy and spectacle in a lot of ways.The wake was on the weekend and Marie was allowed to drive her moms new car to the church. Inside,  we sat with the media club in the back and judged all the classmates who attended that never spoke a word to Barry or his brother.

We could see Barry and his mom from our seats. There was a perverse curiosity to them now and also a strangeness that we related to.We talked briefly to Barry afterwards, asked him if he was okay and said that we couldn't wait for him to return to school.

And then Marie and I grabbed food at this hot dog place nearby, dressed all in black.

5 years ago my best friend took her life.

I was accepted to the University of Pittsburgh (but went to a small school in Philadelphia before transferring to USC my freshman year) and Marie got into Clemson.  Our acceptance letters arrived at the same time and we were both excited to put high school behind us.

We were selling candy to raise money for the end of year video the AV club was in charge of producing. Instead of trying to sell to students we primarily hit up the teacher and guidance counselors. That year we were called the Skittle twins because of this venture.

 We decided to hit up our Speech teacher during lunch and after making a sale we told him the great news about our college acceptance. He was happy for us but also but worried because "how are you guys going to survive college without each other". He said we were like two peas in a pod because we were so inseparable.

It was the first time, the thought crossed my mind that going to different schools would mean I wouldn't have my best friend around. But I knew that it wasn't Marie he was worried about. She would do fine. She was a super genius and willful. It was me he addressed his concerns to. It was me he was sure would not survive.

5 years ago my best friend took her life. 

Senior Prom! We didn't want to go because the only boys who showed interest in going with us were the few from the AV club and even then they didn't want to really go with us. They made a bet that we couldn't look like real girls in dresses and stuff and because we were defiant and secretly want to attend Prom we told them "bet!".

My mom owned this dress little black dress from the 80's that i was obsessed with wearing. It had silver traps and flared out at the bottom. I didn't want to make a big deal of prom, so i decided to wear that dress instead of having my mom buy me a new one. The day of, I went to the hairdresser to get my hair done. She was overbooked and by the time she got to me she put so little effort in my hair my mom and I walked out angry.

Marie showed up at my house an hour before the event. When she got out of the car I was struck by how beautiful she looked. It was also the first time i'd ever seen her in a dress and the care and attention she went into dressing up let me into a secret about her...that she was like any other girl who wanted to look beautiful on her big night. My mom took a picture of the two of us. I looked uncomfortable and sweaty with this ridiculous unkempt hair and Marie looks happy and beautiful.

We arrived at the Prom early and of course the only other students there were the nerdy awkward kids and a few teachers. Everyone gasped when Marie walked in. It was her moment, so I stepped aside and let her soak it in. Our history teacher came up to us first and said we looked great, followed by my crush the Speech teacher and then our AV buddies circled around Marie and gawked at her in awe.

We only stayed at Prom for 10 minutes. This is not n exaggeration. We wanted to be seen and then as quickly as we could we ran back to the parking lot, decided to drive to Walmart for PJ's and then grabbed burritos to bring back to my house. That night we had a slumber party in my living room and watched Medium on NBC

5 Years ago my best friend took her life

I was fucking livid. This kid we both knew named Spencer decided on Senior Night (a night were all the graduating seniors accepted their yearbooks and were thrown a small party in the cafeteria) that he wanted to tell Marie how much he hated her. We were sitting at a table in the far back of the cafeteria, just the two of us because surprisingly all of AV club friends ditched us,  and he and another friend came up to us and wanted Marie to personally know she was a "bitch". Spencer was in the AV club with us and sure Marie gave him a hard time but every one did.

The verbal attack was unprovoked and I remember him having to be pulled away by some other kid because he wouldn't stop lashing out.  Marie was red-faced but resolute and brushed his attack off as just some lame attempt to get back at her. I was fucking livid because it was our last night together as the graduating class of 2004 and this guy we thought was a friend wanted to ruin it.

When we collected our yearbooks, i was so mad I only let Marie sign it. Sure I had other friends but she was the most loyal and dedicated and a note from her was the only note I wanted. As I was signing her yearbook she pulled out the small wallet sized senior photo she took a few months earlier. She wanted me to have it, because "like i know we are still going to be friends but I just wanted to you to have something". I felt awful because I planned to give her something as well; an edition of an Annie Prolux book that she didn't own. Prolux was her favorite author and I saw this novel in a used bookstore. I paid for it with my own money and planned to gift it to her that night but i forgot.

I still have that copy of the book in my house. Alongside Marie's photo.


5 years ago my best friend took her life

The summer of my sophomore year (college) Marie invited me to a water park with her and her boyfriend Josh. Marie's college life made up for high school and middle school years. She had a core group of friends that she hung out with regularly.  She was excelling in all of her classes and given amazing research opportunities with professors who saw her potential. She moved into her own apartment and adopted a puppy. And she had a boyfriend, her first boyfriend . She lost her virginity that year and was in love which meant she talked about him all the time. I was envious of her relationship. I wanted a boyfriend, I wanted to be annoyingly in love and instead I was spent most of college anxious and alone.

Marie was desperate for this outing to work out. She needed me to like her boyfriend and vice versa but I often felt abandoned by Marie during college. We talked less, were living two separate lives and I was honestly very envious that things were working out for her. I was happy, don't get me wrong, but I wished college was the best years of my life as it seemed to be for Marie.

That day the three of us went on every ride imaginable. Marie was able to balance her attention between the both of us better than she had before, but there were still moments when I caught the two of them escaping into that magical naive place where they gazed at each other and only the two of them existed.

During one of the rides, I almost drowned. Literally. I am not a good swimmer and this ride included insane waves that caused me to panic and sink to the bottom of the pool. Marie saw me struggle and swam down and grabbed me. She yanked me out of the darkness and dragged me to safety. The rest of the day we spent on the lazy river and she held on to my inner tube the whole ride because she was afraid to lose me again.

5 years ago my best friend took her life.

Marie accepted a job in North Carolina and I moved to New York soon after our college. The spring before our big moves we decided to visit our old Highschool librarian (who we both adored) and buy her a  gift to show our appreciation for her guidance. We bought two small bears: one a Clemson bear and one a USC bear and planned to surprise her at the high school.

We didn't know though that our college spring break and their high school spring break was the same week. So when we got to the school we were annoyed that there was no one there. Of course, this didn't stop us from wanting to achieve our goal. We decided we would instead break into the school and leave the gifts on her desk so that we she came back she'd have them.

Breaking in was a lot easier than we thought (it's the south, nothing is locked) but when we got to the library there was a maintenance man inside. We tried to explain why we were there but he didn't seem to care.

He was more confused by us wanting to leave the bears though for Mrs. Wimberly, who retired the year before. We didn't know this of course, because we failed to stay in touch, so we thanked him  and left with our bears in tow. Marie said I could hold on to them and that maybe we'd get them to her another way.

I still own the bears.

5 years ago my best friend took her life.

Marie was quickly advancing at her job in North Carolina while I was struggling with my retail job in New York. But she envious of my social life because she felt alone in North Carolina. She broke up with Josh before she moved and most of her college friends became text buddies.  But I talked to her everyday for hours. We both were struggling to adjust to post-grad life, so we found a lot of comfort in each other. And I was happy to have my best friend back, though she still frustrated me from time to time.

I felt closer to Marie post college than I ever did while we were in High School or College. We were so vulnerable and unsure about our future that I think, we were glad we both had each other. She talked about wanting to visit me in New York and I wanted to come visit her in North Carolina. She admitted she felt unfocused and thought about joining the Air-force for structure. I told her I wanted to move home because maybe New York was a mistake.

We'd watch tv on the phone together and talk about our future selves. She was going to marry a lumberjack named Zayne or Dayne and I was going to write a book about us. She helped me work out the plot and the characters and encouraged me to set writing goals. I was struggling with character names, so we both spent hours on the phone going through baby names together for future characters.

I came across the name Carrick in one of these books and liked it so much I told her I would name my kid Carrick. "imma call her Carrot, you know this right?". We already discussed that she would be the aunt/godmother to my kids and it was her job to love and make fun of them. She didn't want kids, just a lumberjack and a cabin in the woods and lots of animals. She said Carrot and I would always be welcomed.

The summer before she died, we decided to read Jane Eyre and were both surprised by how much we liked it. Our last conversation was about the TV shows Bones and a new work friend she was hanging out with. She was so lonely in North Carolina, and she complained a little about the fact that she worked primarily with men who didn't like being told what to do because she was so young and a woman.  But that was always Marie's problem, everyone was threatened by her. Everyone thought she was a know it all. But she always dealt with that in a way that I admired. The fact that she talked often about loneliness was something new though.

That was July 2011.

5 years ago my best friend took her life.

I was in the city with a boy named Josh (a different Josh), who wanted to be a graphic designer and had a tattoo on his chest that he keep showing me. On the train ride to the city he gave me a formula for wind because I said I wanted a tattoo soon that reflected something that inspired me. He looked like James Franco and a week prior he asked me to go to the city with him to pick up some equipment for a school project.

Normally I would not have gone because of nerves. He was so attractive and nice and interesting I could not understand his interest in hanging out with me. I only said yes out of spite. Marie and I had not spoken in weeks. Suddenly we went from talking every day to complete and utter silence. I thought maybe it had something to do with her new work friend because she ditched me in college when she got a boyfriend, I just assumed the same thing was happening.

So i went to the city with Josh, because if Marie could ditch me for a dude I could find solace in one too. But Josh was super young and I knew right away that he was the sort of guy who was self involved because he only talked about himself. But was so pretty and it felt nice to be around someone who wanted my company even if just to gloat.

After picking up some old cameras, we stopped at a pizzeria for lunch. Our hands were greasy and sticky but I remembered watching people pass by and then turning my gaze back to Josh and wondering how I got here at this moment with this boy. But this moment of calm is interrupted by my phone ringing and when I look down I am shocked to see that it is Marie.

But the shock is quickly replaced by anger because i am really pissed at her because it's been 5 weeks of me attempting to call and text her only to hear nothing back. And i'm with James Franco and I don't want to take the her call because I know this moment is rare. That I may not get another chance to hang out him and eat pizza in the city and enjoy this feeling that things are coming together.

So i let it ring. I don't pick up the call.

I have never admitted this to anyone.

I called her later that night but she did not pick up. That was the last time she ever tried to reach out to me. This was September 2011. 3 months later, almost to the day, she killed herself.

5 years ago, on a cold Tuesday morning,  my best friend took her life and it still feels like I am falling.

The air continues to rush into my lungs and I am struck numb by the gravity of her death. I blame myself in many ways for not recognizing the unusual pattern sooner. That i mistook her silence for something else and that when she reached out to me randomly I was unavailable. I feel guilty for not being a better friend, for not telling her more often that she was my anchor and rock. I feel guilty that she died thinking she wasn't necessary in this world despite the fact that in all my future fantasies she was a part of it.

5 years ago my best friend took her life and a little part of me went with her. I miss her everyday. I think about her everyday. I wish she was here everyday because she was the truest friend I ever had even though we were complex and argumentative and stubborn. I resent that her life is just reduced to memories that are becoming more and more sporadic and unverifiable. I hate that she'll never get to experience things that make existing better. She was the only other person outside of my immediate family who felt like home to me and since her death I have felt without one.

26 + 5

Happy Birthday Amanda Marie.

Maybe.

Since arriving back to New York from my amazing Thanksgiving home, I've mainly been in contact with my aunt who keeps bugging me about Christmas plans. I am not going to lie.... I am desperately trying to get out of spending Christmas Eve and Christmas Day ( i don't mind one or the other) with my aunt because it's really just her way of getting me to cook breakfast, entertain my now pre-teen cousin,  help clean her house and now drive her all over the place. It's not that I don't enjoy spending time with my family but lately the holidays with them seem less important. My cousin Michelle is more concerned with her cell phone and my aunt just wants an extra adult around to help out.

If I can be honest there was something magical about waking up in my own bed the first Christmas in my apartment and since then I've anxiously wanted to spend at least Christmas Eve or Day in my own home. I was soooo poor that first year and my apartment was not even furnished yet alone decorated but I made due. I cooked lasagna and opened presents, I listened to Christmas music and watched all the Harry Potter movies. It was great and if I had a bigger place I could see myself hosting Christmas for family and friends because I've suddenly become a domestic goddess.

But it's hard to explain that to people. I have yet to meet anyone who understands my desire to be alone on Christmas. It's not necessarily the Christmas blues, but there is a stillness about the month of December that I like to take a moment and pause in. But i'm rarely allowed to do this because being alone during the holidays is socially unacceptable. Kat was absolutely suffocating during the holidays and my Aunt is more demanding of my time and resource during this month.

Since Marie died I've accepted that December is going to be tough for me. Because of this I try and compensate for how shitty I feel by making the holidays as cozy and light-hearted as possible.  I decorate and bake cookies and watched campy holiday movies. That's mainly even why I like spending Christmas alone. When I am surrounded by people, it's like I remember suddenly that one very important person is missing and it's hard to reconcile the beauty and magic of the holidays with the devastating realization.

During the month of December my thoughts of Marie are always front and center most days, especially today. Marie's birthday is tomorrow and as I was sitting at my cubicle, I suddenly felt this awful pang of sadness. It's like there is this cloud over my head which makes it impossible to think of anything else except her.

I am surrounded by people with regrets. People who feel they've missed out on something . Just the other day Heather texted me in hysterics because she is turning 30 in a few days and regrets how her life turned out. "How is this my life? I think my would be completely different if...", yadda yadda yadda. I listened of course, I empathized, I tried to give advice and after she calmed down a bit I retreated to that place in the clouds that hangs over my head.

I am a person who accepts the decisions I eventually make. Sure it takes me a long time to get to that place of acceptance but I rarely think about what "could have been's" when it comes to relationships or situations. Sure life could have been different if I went to Med School, it also could have been different if i stayed in South Carolina instead of moving to New York, it could have been different if I pursued a career in publishing that I so adamantly thought I wanted, it could have been different if Sean choose me.

But dwelling on "could have's" does not help with "what is", so I don't have obsessive thoughts about the sliding doors of scenarios. I believe things are they way they are for a reason and because time travel is not an option, I have accepted my life at 30 as something in progress. But I must admit there is only one fixed point in this thought process that does not apply: Marie.

I wonder all the time what life would be like if she was alive. I wonder who she would be today is she decided to just live and exist. I wonder what her life would be like on the other side of this tragedy. What version of womanhood she'd encompass. Maybe she'd be married with kids. Maybe she'd finally have a house in the woods with the lumberjack of her dreams. Maybe, maybe, maybe.

Selfishly I can't help but ponder my own existence as well if she was here. I am almost certain we would still be friends in some capacity. But I am so aware of how much I have changed since she died, that I feel envious of whatever imagined life I could have led if she had lived. Maybe, maybe, I would have turned out differently. I wonder what I could have accomplished in the two years I was paralyzed by grief. I am curious where the path would have led me had I not broken down right in the middle.

Because if I can be honest Marie's death has changed me. I am kind, I am gentle but there is a stiffness to me now, or better yet, a numbness that I have yet to shake.I  am  unable to relate to people. I cannot commit to one thing or person because I know how quickly things can change. I am too aware of how that the rug can be pulled from under you...so I am always prepared for the worst before I even consider the consistency of calm. I am sad and sullen and jaded by the loss. Of course sad and sullen and jaded do not define me, but I recognize it is a part of me.

And I regret that she isn't here. I miss her immensely, but mainly i am filled with regret. I didn't get to her in time and I knew, I knew that something was wrong because I felt it. But I waited too long to see the signs, and by the time realized that something was seriously fucked up, I was just too late. And I wonder all the time, if things would have turned out differently had I been a better friend. If she had known that I was in her corner no matter how terrible things were going in her life. I regret that she felt so alone and that she'll never know that I looked for her and sought her out and tried to find her but she was always just one step ahead and out of reach.

Tomorrow is her 31st birthday.  Tomorrow i'll get up and go through my day and try to keep it together because focusing on the "maybe" will undue me. But tonight, I'm okay with sulking and contemplating the maybes. Tonight, i feel okay mourning her "what if's" because my best friend was phenomenal and complex and just the worst-best person I've ever known and I wish she was here. Everything feels a little duller without her.