The Countdown

38

51

95

Only 38 days left until Hunchback closes. It feels so short when you look at it that way. We’ve worked on this show since December and closing night draws ever nearer. 4 shows a week telling the most beautiful story. I’m trying to stay excited about every night so that I don’t fall into a routine and get too comfortable. That show deserves more.

51 days until Sister Act opens. CRAZY! We just started rehearsals last week and we have 51 days left to put it all together. It is amazing that you can put a show together in such a short amount of time. It is a lot of hard work, but so worth it to bring a message to people and bring entertainment into their lives. I’d like to lose weight before then. 20-30 pounds would be nice. Having a countdown makes it more real. I even put it on my phone.

95 days until my New York trip. I’m going with two sisters and a niece and I am so excited I cant’t stand it. I’m going to see 4 or 5 shows and just love the city again. I haven’t been back since I left my mission and I miss it. I wanted to lose weight for this as well, because it will suck to walk around New York with all the extra weight I am carrying. So I hope to lose 30 -40 pounds before then.

My life may seem like it is all about weight loss sometimes, and it is a major focus of mine. It will help me get healthy, feel better, look better, and get cast more. Most of my life is great right now, which is why I can focus on one large flaw. And I’m trying to focus on it as much as I can. I started taking kickboxing 2-3 times a week, I do a show 4 times a week, and I am trying to eat healthier. I have large goals but that is because I am a large person. I can lose a bunch of weight quickly if I try hard enough. But I do have to remind myself that it was easier to lose weight when I was 21 and I am 8 years older now and my body is different.

But for now I will look at my countdowns and try to keep my goals in mind. Here’s to looking towards the future!

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Scars and Other Annoying Things

-The blood was mesmerizing. Eventually it became the sight of my own blood that I found appealing. Something on the inside that was suddenly freed. Bright red against brown skin. Light scratches and cuts, hoping the scars wouldn’t show, but cutting where it wouldn’t be noticeable. I wasn’t trying to kill myself, at least not by cutting. Slicing your wrists sounded messy and painful. I could never force myself to cut that deep. But light cuts on the arms, that was something else. Cutting close to the wrist, flirting with the idea of death.

I started cutting after read Gillian Flynn’s Sharp Objects. The main character cut words into her arms. It was how I started. I took a razor, in a moment of weakness and wrote HELL into my own skin. My nieces asked about it once and I lied. “The cat scratched me. Funny that it looks like hell.” The girls still say my cat can write. I may tell them the truth when they are older. So, maybe I romanticized the idea of cutting at first and then I realized how “good” it felt.

I first cut to release pressure. I had so many emotions that I couldn’t let out for fear that people would judge me or get angry. So, to let something out, I let out the blood. I also cut when I was numb. As a girl with depression, I had numb moments. The world was seen through a fog and I just wouldn’t feel anything at all. So small cuts, moments of pain, reminded me that I was human. Even if I didn’t feel like it, here was proof that I was alive.

I knew cutting was bad. No one would say otherwise. And I couldn’t have arms covered in scars without explaining myself. The next step were tattoos. Tattoos became my new obsession. They were that pain I sought, but something beautiful was left afterwards. I started with Live and Love on each forearm. The a heart and rose on my wrists. A semicolon and a quill behind each ear. A treble clef and a star in my ears. A deathly hallows on my ankle. “I create myself” on my wrist. These beautiful reminders of what I love and who I am, keep me from messing them up with my own cuts. Artful scars instead of jagged line.-

The posts I write that involve negative things get more hits that my normal day ones. I mean, I am not really complaining. It is nice to have people actually read my stuff. And I pride myself on being honest with what I have been through in my life. And I get that people like to read about bad things. It is like looking at a car crash as you drive by. You don’t want to see a dead body but you want to peak at what is going on. 

So, when my life is happy I don’t quite know what to write about. So I revisit old things like cutting, my suicide attempts, mental hospital stays, and my molestation. I mean, I don’t care about bringing them up multiple times. Even when I am living a happy life those things have some hold on me. But I am doing very well right now. 

It is my last semester of school, I got published in the lit journal last semester, but the little piece I included above didn’t get accepted this round. No biggie. 

I am in an amazing show and just started rehearsals to play Deloris again in Sister Act.

I am SLOWLY losing weight and am enjoying my new kick boxing class. 

I have the funds for my New York trip at the end of May with my sisters and one niece.  

Work is..work. I don’t suck at it though.

Family life is fine, but always a little crazy.

To be honest, I do miss my High School friends. I don’t see them often. But I am excited about the new friends I make during shows.

Overall, I am doing okay though. So I’m not sure what to write for you all. Any suggestions? Anything you have questions about or want to hear more of? I’m an open book!

Race, Growth, and Education

In my History of the English Language class we talked about the slave trade.

Being the only black girl in class, you’d think I’d be used to the stares. Quick glances from my fellow students. Teachers looking at me with some sort of pity and sometimes even asking my thoughts on it all.

I do shows where I am a slave, more often than not, and that is as close to any emotions I have on the subject. I don’t know my background. I don’t know my biological family. But I am sure I come from slaves. But history is just not interesting to me. Probably because I know that my ancestors went through hell and I don’t want to feel like I am failing them in some way.

I did one of my ‘slave shows’ and an older black woman lectured me on not knowing certain things like my history. She’d get annoyed if I didn’t do my head wrap correctly, if I didn’t put on enough lotion, and that my contacts were blue. She felt I was disrespectful of my people. I’m just being me. Does being black have to influence every part of my life?

In my creative nonfiction class I am working on some stories to submit to the school literary journals. I am completely honest, just like I am on the blog, and people are surprised that I talk about my struggles so openly. But someone has to. I wrote about my first suicide attempt and the story I am working on is my experience with cutting. These ‘stories’ may be helpful to people who have gone through or are experiencing these same things. If I can help others then why should I be shy about what I have gone through?

It sucks that I have to be defined by my race. It was a big part of my depression. I thought I was less because I was black. No one would ever love me because I was black. I remember I was in love with someone just out of high school, lets call him Ted,  and Ted told me that his brother said he’d kill himself if Ted married a black woman. That has haunted me for years. That people still think like that. They look at me with disgust and judgement before they get to know me.

So, yes, there have been moments where I wished I was white. Sitting in class while talking about slaves, watching a cop car driving behind me, meeting a guy I like or his parents, even while writing my blog or my stories. But I have come to accept who I am, I have to. It isn’t like I can change my race. So, I’ll change the things I can and love the things I can’t.

Drinking, not Drunk

So, one of the things about Mormons are that they don’t drink. Alcohol is out.

So, of course a couple years ago, as I was finding myself, I started drinking.

Now, I am not an alcoholic. I don’t actually get blackout drunk. If I drink too much it mostly just makes me tired.

I started with a white wine and then moved on to some others, my personal favorite being a Roscato I first tried at Olive Garden. I moved out and drank more, since I didn’t have to leave my house to partake. I tried a bunch of things. Long Island Iced Tea. Whiskey. Vodka, Tequila. Wine is my love though, mostly dessert wines.

I don’t live off of alcohol. I hardly drink it, and not in large quantities. But sometimes I want a drink with dinner. And sometimes I am having a bad day so a moscato really hits the spot.

I have only been black out drunk once, as I recall. And I was at a friend’s house. I do not drink and drive. If I drink with dinner I make sure to wait a while and eat a lot of food to be safe to drive.

So, it is not exactly true that one drop leads down the road to addiction. I believe I have an addictive personality and I am not an alcoholic. But having that one drop probably did start me down the path to tattoos and leaving the church haha

It made me confidant enough to take charge of my life and not worry what others think of me.

Liquid Courage.

#metoo – my messed up mind

PG 13 post

Sensitive topic ahead.

Trigger warnings.

Stop reading now if you don’t want to know everything about me.

(Two posts in one week is a bit much, but there you go)

I have a complicated relationship with sex and relationships. Not really with sex, since I’m not and have never ‘gotten any’, but my past has seriously messed with my brain.

Just to recap, for those of you who haven’t been faithful readers ( I wouldn’t be if I were you) I was molested as a child by an older relative. I was 5. He was a teenager who lived next door. I’d play in the backyard and he’d come and take me down from the tree that was right next to the fence that separated our yards. I pin point all my problems on that. Depression, self worth, probably even being atheist comes from that.

So, I have a problem with relationships. Meaning, I don’t really have any. I mean, I have friendships ( though they are tough to maintain because I am such a people-pleaser it is annoying) but I’ve never dated or had a boyfriend. But sometimes  I don’t want one, you know?

The ” not wanting a boyfriend” side of me has been around for a while. I remember in Young Woman at church, the leaders were worried about me because I said I didn’t want to get married. And I definitely don’t want kids, (that would involve sex).

But another part of me likes the idea of someone who loves and cares for me and I could do the same for him.

I have a habit of falling for people I think I could defend myself against. So, chubby guys or short guys or slender gay are what I typically like. Because, if in some way we did have a relationship, I could have a say with the physical stuff because I would be just was strong as them. Basically, no muscle guys for me.

Also, when it comes to physical attraction, I tend to shy away. On stage I can be different because it is a controlled environment, but spontaneous hugs or kisses are not my thing. I have a bubble and I like that bubble, though with some people the bubble becomes almost nonexistent.

On the side where I don’t protect myself, I’ve made out with strangers. It has to be the right time, but I do like to kiss and cuddle.

So I am a complete mess. I don’t know what I want, I do know that I would like to be safe though. My little kid brain reminds me of my past and wants to keep myself away from the opposite sex. My adult brain knows I don’t need a man to be complete but also doesn’t want me to be lonely.

So, this is mainly just a rant. I am trying to figure myself out, but it is hard to do. I understand my motivations, but I don’t quite know what I want to end result to be.

 

#Iwokeuplikethis

I have never been a girly girl. Even when I was a cheerleader I was no nonsense and very sensible. I rarely get my nails done, I got my eyebrows done for the first time when I was around 22. So, I am in no way high maintenance.

I went to an audition last week and I was a mess. I was dressed in all black that had dog hair on it, I wasn’t wearing makeup, and I hadn’t gotten my eyebrows done in months. I was chatting with some people outside of the audition and mentioned that I wasn’t wearing make up. One guy seemed surprised. “You came to an audition without makeup?”

I don’t remember the last time I wore makeup to an audition. I hate wearing it. I hate spending time putting it on and I hate the process of taking it off. Plus, it usually results in my skin acting up. The only times I wear make up are when I am seeing someone very important, I have to for a show, or when I have ample time. Why wear makeup to an audition? They have my head shot and know what I look like all made up. And this audition had a dance call, which meant I was going to sweat all the makeup off anyway!

I have two sisters who went to school for hair and makeup and I do like the look of makeup sometimes, but I have to be in the right mood for it.  VERY rarely do I put on a full face. I try to wear lipstick regularly (I love lipstick) and sometimes I’ll wear mascara, but foundation? No thank you.

I’m not going to be an idiot and say that all girls shouldn’t wear makeup. I’m not going to say that we are all beautiful the way we are (though I do believe it). Sometimes we need that barrier in order to face the world. Go for it Ladies! Do what makes you feel comfortable and I will do the same. Nada, low key, or full face, we are all beautiful.

Low Point

Last night I was depressed. Still have a little bit lingering today as well. So, I did something I shouldn’t have.

I’ve been sick for about a week and a half; sore throat, cough, and lack of air. So I haven’t been able to hit my high notes in Hunchback of Notre Dame, the musical I am currently in. I panicked. We open in 3 weeks. What if my high notes don’t come back by then? Also, my voice just isn’t as strong as it usually it, and I’ve got a lot of power behind it normally. See, I love musical theater, but I am a singer. I am an okay actress and not a good dancer, so if I can’t sing as well as I am supposed to be able to then what do I have going for me, theaterwise? Nada.

So, I panicked last night and binge ate. Now, I usually eat a lot. That is why I’m fat. But this was bad. It was 10:30 at night and I stopped at Taco Bell. I ate a cheesy gordita crunch, a mini quesadilla, a soda, and cinnamon twists. Then I drove to Culver’s and ate cheese curds and ice cream. I’m guessing that was at least 2,000 calories on top of the healthy food I’d eaten that day.

So, I ruined my weight loss, again. When I’m depressed I do destructive things. I would have cut myself, back in the day, but I haven’t done that for almost three years. I would have drank myself to sleep, but I didn’t want a hang over and I live with my parents right now and they don’t allow alcohol in the house. I would have gotten a tattoo about self love to make myself feel better, but I was short on money and told myself I wouldn’t get my next tattoo until I lost 40 pounds. I would have belted out some emotional songs…..but I couldn’t really sing. So, food.

Today I am mad at myself. I am planning on eating maybe 1,000 calories to make up for the excess yesterday. But I’ll be mad at myself all day. But what I have figured out is, I would rather be fat and happy than skinny and miserable. Not that I want to stay around 300 pounds, but I don’t want to starve myself or spend hours  at the gym every day ( like I have the time). I just want to lose some weight to make me healthier ( though I found out the other day that while I am huge I don’t have diabetes or bad blood pressure) and more castable.

I’d like to walk around New York in May without wanting to die. I’d like to maybe go to an audition or two while I’m there, just for fun. I’d like to get in shape for this season of shows and next season, whatever that may hold. I want to dance. I want to walk up the stairs without being out of breath. I want my knee problems and my asthma to go away. And I want to do it the natural way. I want my mother to stop talking to me about bypass surgery. I’ve lost weight before. I can do it again. It just takes time.

So, yes I am a bit down today. But I still love myself. I’m not suicidal. I’m just a little sad. I’m still the same girl that has found herself in the past few years. I have my ups and downs, but over all I love my friends, my life, and myself. Is there anything more I should do?

Kid at Heart

I am not mature.

I mean, I have my mature side. I work full time, I go to school, I handle my commitments and plan for the future.

But honestly, I’m a child. Why do you think I act? It’s really playing make believe. Same thing with writing fiction.

When I was a kid, I played with Barbies with my cousin as often as I could get, and a lot of the times I was by myself. But ( Big secret) I played with Barbies until I was probably in 9th grade….. Because I would have these stories in my head and I didn’t want to take the time to write them out, so I acted them out with the dolls. I hid it from the world, playing music to masks the sounds of me playing. But I think it just shows that I have a creative an open mind.

I watch a lot of kid shows. Disney, Pixar, and cheesy anime. I revisit the things I loved as a kid be it Buffy the Vampire Slayer or Anamaniacs. These I don’t really hide anymore because, with the internet, I know how many other people do that too. So it feels acceptable.

I am a big nerd. I watch Anime, I go to Comic Con when I can, I have a Peter Pan backpack and earrings and some costume pieces that I wear out in public even if it isn’t Halloween.

But hey, life gets mundane. Things get repetitious. So anyway that you can make life more exciting and fun is a good thing. So I’ll belt out songs in my car, I’ll wear my Labyrinth earrings, I’ll keep writing and playing and having a good time and you should too. Life is short. Live it.

Reset Rebecca

I know that it being a new year doesn’t mean that you get a new beginning. There are things that cannot be undone and things you have to work hard to reverse. But saying New Year New Me just sounds so good!

I don’t want to change completely. In fact, I am very happy with me right now. My mental state is pretty rocking and I am actual optimistic ( feels like a swear word when I say it). My motto has always been not to try too hard because then I couldn’t be surprised when I failed. I am a quitter through and through and always have been. Mostly because of the goals that I set.

Let’s face it, learning to read music and losing 150 pounds isn’t going to make me get cast in all the roles I want.

Saying I’m going to lose 150 pounds is too daunting of a task, which sets myself up for failure.

Finishing my book doesn’t mean I’m going to be the next J.K. Doesn’t even mean I’ll get published.

Saying I’ll buy a house within the next two years doesn’t mean that I’ll be able to save enough money and not touch that pile of cash in case of an emergency.

My goals are large ones and changing things about myself and creating new habits doesn’t necessarily guarantee the outcome that I would like. But that doesn’t mean I won’t try.

SO

Baby steps. Weight loss in five pound increments. Trying to touch my book 5 days a week. Work out 3-5 days a week ( dancing at rehearsal counts). Trying to eat well, but when all else fails I’ll calorie count. Pay off debt one bill at a time, so I don’t spread myself too thin. Try and be a better friend, sister, daughter, and aunt.

Hope is all I have. That and my will power to do what needs to be done. Because my birthday just passed and this is my last year in my 20’s. Lets make it count!

Happy 2018

Nothing But the Truth

I pride myself on being an honest person.

I like it when people are honest with me, so I return the favor as much as I can.

I try not to hurt people though. I’m truthful, but I’m not going to come up to you and say I don’t like your nose. I’m going to say something I love about you instead.

I think this stems from lying to myself and others for so many years, not exactly being lied to. I know I have been lied to, but I probably didn’t really know it at the time.

I appreciate honesty (unless you tell me I look pregnant. Then I’ll beat you.) That is the reason I have this blog. To be me and to be honest as much as possible.

SO, this is an interactive post. On the blog or on Facebook, private message or even text, you can ask me anything you want. Random questions, probing ones, things I haven’t touched on in this blog or in Facebookland. Ask away and I will give you honesty, as long as it doesn’t hurt anyone else.