life these days...

is a emotive and confusing thing.

I am relearning how to exist on a different plane, and in a different place than I have for the last two and a half years, and say what you will about the ups and down that had been happening in the recent months, this time it's different, and this time it's real.

Where my brain is at in terms of life plan has had to change in a huge way, faster than I could have ever imagined, just to keep up with what's going on in real life.  It's terrifying.  At times, it feels so contrived, that it can't be true, and I wake up from daymares to realize that yes, this is what has happened.

I am not unsure about my own self-worth, or my ability to take on the world.  That does not mean I'm not confused, not scared, not furious at feeling at one time both sadness and anger at this change.  I thought things were more clear, and yet it seems that I have to explain the explanations - that for all the clear clarifications in the world still left gaps.

And saying that I'm "sad" does my feelings no justice.  I am so much more than "sad"  and so much less.  And I have leaned on everyone I can, for ever time a shoulder has been offered, I've needed one.

The Bethy that existed before doesn't anymore, and she won't be back.  As fresh, as hurtful as this is, it lends itself to stitching up my own heart, piece by piece, in hopes that someday I'll be able to call it complete again.

I don't know when that will be...I hope sooner rather than later...but I don't know.

Bear with me.

and in the end

and in the end
the love you take
is equal to
the love
you make

this is my life

split into pieces
segments
at times making no sense

when the point is hidden
not to be realized for days
weeks
years

years.

friendships that vary
from solid starts
to rocky roads
and those that lie in between
sitting, like rocks that you can't quite tell if they're going to support your weight
or tip when you step, sliding down to a more steady place

when they don't, it's usually not a surprise
but when they do...

it feels amazing.

who would have thought...

     8 years ago today, I was a senior in high school.  I had just decided that I would be going to the University of San Francisco for Performing Arts and Social Justice in the fall, and I was excited...and absolutely terrified.  I had never lived anywhere except Lacey, WA, the only international trip I had ever gone on was to Canada, and I had never flown on a plane by myself.
     I would have never guessed that 8 years later I would be sitting here, in Boston, in graduate school - after living in and loving California, Ireland, Mexico, Alaska, New Jersey, and North Carolina.  How could I have imagined moving myself, my life, my things across the country - and world - so many times, and finding the most excellent people on my journeys.  I had no idea...
   
     That 17 year old senior had no clue what it was like to get her heart broken (like REALLY broken), though she thought she had a good idea...she had no idea how her perceptions of herself, ever growing, ever changing, would make her a stronger person.  She didn't realize that not everything is black and white, and that just because it's not right for her, that doesn't mean it's wrong for someone else.
     But most of all, she had no way of knowing just how strong she could be.  Lacey, it turns out, didn't push her much.  But the other places did.  And she responded to the pushing and the pulling by being more flexible than that 17 year old ever thought was possible.  (And then, when the time for flexibility was over, she stood up strong, and took no one's crap).
     Some of the things that used to make her heart dance still do, and she had discovered a whole host of other things that bring her joy.  She couldn't have known that the joys would get better, and the disappointments would get worse, but that, after a while, this wouldn't be a surprise anymore.
     She would be able to advocate for herself in times of stress or confrontation.  She would still feel like crying if she felt confronted, but she would eventually stop being embarrassed about it, and would be able to own her tears, and stop them from weakening her.  She would find that the emotional freedom that comes from crying is worth its weight in gold.
     And she didn't realize that time goes so fast, and that's not a reason to hide inside and hoard it, but instead to take it all in and make as much of it as she can.  Cause life - it's happening.  And you never know when that's going to end.  Carpe Diem, 17 year old Bethy.  These last 8 years have been fucking amazing.  Here's to a whole bunch more...

Love, Bethy

PS.  There is one thing that the 17 year old was really good at, though, that the 25 year old is very good at too - procrastinating on homework, hahaha.  No, but seriously.  Ugh.
   

SHD

I make earrings.

Well, I make all sorts of jewelry, but mostly earrings.  And I love it.  And I have a million of them done, on cards, labeled, etc, just ready to sell.  So, I think now is the time to start that.  And while everyone just tells me "etsy!" I have no idea how to even think about beginning that process...you know?  SO, I'm calling on you, my fantastic readership, for two things.  If you know how to or have sold anything on etsy, I need the cliffs notes version on how to do that.  Or, if you just want to buy some earrings, let me know.  I can let you know what I have in terms of different colors, or make some especially for you.

Bethy

settle?

Sometimes I get really exhausted.

I was thinking about North Carolina last night, as I was falling asleep, and it occurred to me that the 10 months I spent there - living, working, doing online classes, hanging out with friends - in some respects it doesn't feel very real.  I remember leaving New Jersey after my JV year, and thinking that I couldn't possibly be moving again, and that although I didn't know what the hell I wanted to do with my life, or where I wanted to be, I was getting so. damn. tired.  Just so tired of moving, of uprooting myself, and that the excitement of packing everything up and going on yet another adventure was waning.

And since that move away from Newark in 2010, I've done it 3 more times.  Newark to Bethel, Bethel to Boone, Boone to Lacey, Lacey to Boston.

I'm tired.

I still love the adventure, but as I begin 2013 (with a little better idea of what I want to do with my life, but with the same amount of hopelessness in regards to where I can find a job like that), it also occurs to  me that making friends, feeling at home in each new place is getting harder.  And for me, who exists the best with expansive support systems, feeling that isolation, even in the midst of a super busy life, is hard.

I have this incredibly full life in Boston - school (classes at BU and online classes) and work are enough to take up more than 30 hours a day, but it's hard not to romanticize the days when I felt more included in a social group and less like someone who has friends at work and friends at school and friends who I can call occasionally to get a drink (if I ever have the time) but no one who can fit in all these places.  I miss having people around me who know enough about all the different facets of my life to understand stories I tell about my horrendous day at work, or that time I got blackout at the bar and fell down on the sidewalk, or how I'm having a hard time handling the workload in Anthro. (true story - this class hasn't even started yet, but we got the syllabus, I'm terrified.)

And this work is probably of my own making.  And I hope that as 2013 surges ahead, I'm able to help myself do this - I can't hide under the mask of "this is my first semester and I'm just trying to get the lay of the land" anymore.  I'll need to own up to the feelings of "I miss my sister" and "I miss my boyfriend" and "I miss my high school/college/Ireland/Bethel/JVC friends" because they have existed in their contexts, and perhaps I just need to buck up and create a context for Boston.  I know that there are people out there in this big city that love me, and I know that, in this respect, I need to push past the exhaustion - maybe just this one more time.  (hahaHA ok, let's be real - one more time??  Even I'm not delusional enough to believe that...)

Forever on the run,
Bethy

A very non-Christmassy poem I wrote on Christmas

And the answer might be…

Because these are things that happened,

These are moments that were real.

And erasing the proof doesn’t erase the past

Or the memory

Or the experience.

They still exist in the history of the universe –

Forever to contain the potential of the moment.

I am grateful the memories stopped when they did,

That things were not prolonged.

You served me and I tried to serve you

As a valuable life lesson –

One that, while short, was not always sweet

While fast-paced, never seemed harried.

One completely necessary for the freedom

To move on

To move up

To seek something more

Something better.

And to realize the value of you

And be able to say thanks

Instead of reaching for curses and slurs to protect my pride.

You showed me love but it was not the love I needed

You showed me respect but it came with strings

You showed me how to be who I am with someone who had expectations for me as well.

And there is no repayment.

There were tears,

There were drunken phone calls.

There were yelling matches and whispered promises.

And there is now quiet

And peace.

To say Thank You.

I’m Done.

And Goodbye.