vulnerabilty--the third attempt.

Last night in Idaho I journaled, read, prayed about a reoccurring issue in my life: relationships. After about an hour I had the urge to go dig up my high school journals and after much garage attic searching I found all six of them. Back in my old room, I flipped through pages of journal entries dating from 1999--full of thoughts, prayers, doodles, and, especially, boys. Time, it seems, has softened my memory of myself. I remembered being a bit excessive in relationships but I had conveniently forgotten the ... overlap.
At fifteen years old, I was stringing along four guys from three states while "dating" at least two of them at a time. 0_0 Umm... not good.
Initially I was disgusted. I called myself a barrage of dirty names and burrowed into my pillow with shame. I ... cheated. I was chronically unfaithful for years. How have I managed to gloss over that fact for all this time?
Then, I remembered the past four years and encouragement found me. I have changed dramatically. I don't even recognize that horribly self-conscious, under-conscienced little girl. I am a completely different person and the thought of being unfaithful in a relationship is unthinkable. Completely repulsive.
Out of this I praised God infinitely. To think where I could be right now! If not for that missions trip, if not for this school, if not for those friends, those guy friends, that new perspective, WHO would I be?? I shudder to think.
This encouragement brandished a warning or two. I am still self-conscious, still place Relationship as a too high priority, and still have a lot left to learn. A long way left to go.
But. BUT, I am so thankful for how far I have come!!

reprieve

Tonight I begged God to help me feel a little less overwhelmed, a little less alone. I didn't ask for total relief, because I know my life is my responsibility, too, and I would not be willing to part with any of the things which are causing this stress (class, newspaper, JET, work). But I did ask for a tiny reprieve, just enough so that I could crawl out of bed tomorrow without cursing.

Enter the security guard--a fifty-year-old man who drove me home once before, maybe a month ago.

"ReBekha, right?" he asked.

That was all it took. That sweet man remembered my name, asked about my JET application, and reminded me that I am not, wholly, invisible.

Je déteste le français.

Je ne sais pas maintenant.

Nous buvons, vous pouvez, ils vont.
Par quel train partez-vous?
C'est ici. C'est parfait. Ce, cet, cette, ces.
Un, deux, trois, soir.

Je suis fatigué. Je suis très fatigué.

Bonne nuit mon amis. "Bonne matin" pour moi.

Vulnerability 2.0

I wrote a short story. Just finished it, in fact. It is almost true, with some added flavor and changed names. Mostly, it is about my first college relationship and the terrible drama which followed. It is funny writing about the events now that I am so far past them, but mostly it is encouraging. It was such a long period of pain that to finally be past it--fully, completely, happily past it--makes me want to dance a little jig. Yep, a jig.

I don't think she believes that I am over it, though. There is still distance between us, and it pisses me off. She is a great friend, and I was an idiot for being upset for so long. I thought I had fixed it in time--I was able to go to their wedding--but maybe not.

I wish I knew what to do. Maybe the distance is just a natural thing: she is married and busy, and I am single and busy. Relationships change all the time. But what if she doesn't know that I am honestly fine, and she thinks I still can't be around them? Should I tell her? It would be terribly awkward at this point, but I will do whatever it takes. I love that girl, and what is the use of all this wonderful God-given healing if she is still not going to be a part of my life?

vulnerable take 1

Now that I am back on MySpace/Facebook, I don't exactly need this blog. Sure, I can repost the same blogs that I do on the other sites, but I have two followers on here (Hello Beth, Mike) and both of you can read blogs in the other places. The other people who stop in occassionally (Hey Deanna, Sarah) can and probably do read the other blog as well.
So... this might become my frustration forum. I hope you don't mind if I am majorly negative on this blog. I will be happy sometimes, too, but I feel more comfortable venting in this blog than the others. Deal?
To start with, I am having a body image complex. Add this one to my list of insecurities. The worst part is that I haven't had this issue since I was ten and hanging with baby fat. Sure there are times when I am like, "WOAH! love handles!" but typically it is a passing thing and I love my curvy imperfection.
Ever since this summer though.. the issue has become obsessive. The funny thing is, though, that it is only in my head and I do NOTHING about it. That includes all things healthy or unhealthy. I don't exercise, I don't starve myself. I don't eat healthy, I don't binge.
I just wallow. And it is pathetic.
I need to regain my self confidence somehow. Probably by forcing myself to do those healthy things, huh?
Well,I gotta run. Baking cookies.

Week's Realizations

1. Though completely lazy Saturdays are glorious, I will regret them by Monday.
2. A sane, healthy person must spend more time asleep than studying at Starbucks.
3. A sane, healthy person will not survive Literary Theory with Dr. Martha Diede.
4. Yes, apparently, we can. :)
5. A cold is never convenient.
6. Just because it's free does not mean you have to eat it.
7. Food Poisoning is not worth the extra sleep. Or the free meal.
8. Waking up at 7 on Saturdays and 6 on Sundays is not conducive to a college lifestyle.
9. Gilmore Girls are more fun than real life.

10. Letter themed parties are the best.

11. Chicken is Bomb

12. My little brother is too good for me. I don't deserve such a great friend.

12. Nikolina is the coolest exactly-21-year-old I know. Happy Birthday, my friend!

the complex.

I am a photography wanna-be. Every time I look at real photographer's work, or even just stand near one of them, it hits me: I don't got it.

I will never have the equipment to make up for what I am lacking: serious talent, an original eye.

All I have is my dumb broken D-80 and some generous friends.


Feeling lame tonight.
R