When I first pulled this page up to write a post, it was going to be about something totally different- and the next post probably will be my original idea. But seeing my last post pop up, I can't just let that hang unfinished. I need to update all of you beautiful people that stop by once in a great while to read this pitifully updated blog about what has happened in the past month. My world turned upside down and I've cracked and I don't know how long I can keep from shattering. Everything I knew, or thought I knew, has changed and it hurts more than anything I have gone through in my entire life. We're talking physical pain- did you know emotions can cause physical pain? Because I didn't until now.
My baby, the love of my life, the one that kept me from self harming and being suicidal and the one who kept me going through all of the shit the last three years have given me...he's gone. I haven't seen him in a week and it's killing me because I still drive by his house and I feel another crack in my heart slowly working its way towards the center. Once those cracks reach the center, one of two things will happen. Either I will shatter like the cymbal my friend broke this year in band, or I will have found a way to heal the cracks as they happen and by some miracle I'll manage to keep it together for another day.
After two and a half years of being more in love than I ever thought possible, two and a half years of putting up with allowing myself to be controlled, after two and a half years of whispered promises and healing words, it's over. He told me to my face that he didn't love me any more and wasn't sure he ever had- but he still wanted to be friends.
Right away, I called BS on that.
And, as usual, I was right. No, he's got a sexuality crisis happening, which I totally understand. But to lie to me, the person who had a terrible time coming out to the world and the one person who knows what it's like for him....this was unacceptable. If you had just told me this in the beginning, babe, if you had just asked me to understand and be patient with you and give you space, I would have understood. I would have given you a hug and walked away proud that you trusted me enough to tell me what you were going through.
But you fucking lied. To me. The person that has put up with your BS, has put up with being controlled to the point that I don't know who I am anymore without you because I love you so incredibly much that I was willing to wait until you matured a little bit, you lied?! I'm sorry. Now I'm saying we're over. Don't try to call me, don't try to talk to me anymore. I gave you so many second chances, so many chances to apologize for lying to me, and you had the nerve to say you weren't sorry for that.
Ok. Bye.
Truth is, I miss him. I spent the last two and a half years building my life around a relationship that I believed, with all I was, was going somewhere. I hurt a lot. I'm afraid by myself. I don't know how to be alone.
To make it worse, school is ending. So I can't enjoy a wallow of self-pity every day. But it's good for me, right? To learn to be strong again, by myself?

I am fixing this feeling. And I'm fixing it by road tripping to MI to see my childhood home and friends, and also by moving to Miami for a year and a half. I need to get out of Greensboro for awhile- I have nothing keeping me here now.
Yay adventures!

Who am I? Who are You?

I don't know how to start this post. I seem to not know how to start a lot of things, lately. Maybe it's the cold seeping into my head and keeping me from being able to do...anything, really. I can't pull my grades up. I can't keep going to school. I can't remember who I am, what I'm here for, why I'm doing the things I'm doing.
I have been asking myself a lot lately, 'Who am I?' Because I really don't know. I've gone through so many extreme changes in the last 3 years that I literally don't know who I am. Lists of what I do know help-
1. My name is Rena.
2. I have a wonderful boyfriend named Christian.
3. I love music- in any form.
4. I love art.
5. I love beauty.
6. I am undoubtedly a feminist.
7. I love books.
8. I believe in not letting the crowd control you.
9. I believe in being a good person, not a bad person.
10. I am pansexual.

But what does all this really mean? Who is Rena, really? She's this girl I see walking the halls at school trying to keep her head up when everything around her is going crazy, but it seems she really loses that battle a lot.
I know who I want her to be- your best friend or your worst enemy. Hell in Heels. Bad ass in a dress. Loyal. Thoughtful. Talented. Happy. Successful. Accepting and accepted.
I want her to be that girl that exits the stage and leaves the crowd in tears, applauding. I want her to be the girl that rose from the ashes and created beauty out of it. I want her to acknowledge her depression, anxiety, ADHD, and move on. I want her to be able to fight when she needs to, but to chose her battles wisely- to be able to see past the anger and into the person. I want her to be able to keep her promises, to show others a new way of living.
But sometimes she doesn't.
Sometimes she lashes out at people who really don't deserve it. Sometimes she takes her anger and hurt and frustration out on her loving boyfriend whose last joke was the last straw when it really shouldn't have been.
She wants to forget the anger and hurt of the last year and look forward to happiness and togetherness.
But can she? I think she can- but then it comes down to her choosing to do it.
There's all these things that I want but don't know how to make happen.
Sometimes I feel lost.
But I'm beginning to realize that sometimes, being lost isn't the worst thing on earth.
Sometimes, it's the best.
Sometimes, you need to be lost in order to rediscover the beauty around you. To find the new paths for yourself, whether they be well traveled or not, whether you find a well traveled path and decide to stay on it, or to cut a new path parallel to it.
I've been learning to slow down and try to live. Learning that rushing through life is a foolish choice- let the fairytales be real for as long as possible, and when you have to let them go, it's ok to cry. But make sure you create your own fairytales- at least try. I've learned that everyone smells the roses, but you need to look beyond the roses to find the flowers that no one else sees- the little ones that hug the ground and yet smell fresh and sweet and scream joy and happiness and triumph in your face- the ones that aren't showy, but choose to be quiet. Because in the quietness, there is the loudest voice of all- silence.
I remember when I was little, the day my adoption was finalized and I was legally a [insert last name here], the judge looked at me and asked me if there was anything I wanted to say. I shook my head, in awe of the large man with salt and pepper hair, in a black robe who looked so kindly at me and was so happy to put a family together. I was afraid to speak to His Honor- but only because I was afraid I would say the wrong thing. He just chuckled and said that silence was golden.
I didn't understand at the time how far that statement reaches. Not only to the quieting clamor of kids as the night wears on, but to the city, the loud rushing that we humans do constantly. Constant noise- even this computer, as I sit here and write, makes noise {the whirring of the fans, the clicking of my keys, the shish of the mousepad when I drag my fingers across it}.
It's not until there is true silence that you can appreciate it. And that is a rare thing. And now I understand. From going to school in the morning, to going to work in the evening, to coming home to noisy kids, the amount of silence I get is minute compared to what I got 3 years ago.
But I digress. I was speaking of who I wanted to be. Who I don't know I am.
How do I find myself?
I know I'm supposed to...but how do I look when I don't know what I am looking for?
People come to me for advice and I give it to them and I don't know where it came from.
Is that who I am? A counselor?
People older than me come to me for advice on sex and I help them. Am I the next sex ed teacher? Good lord, I hope not.
People ask me to critique their musical auditions before the big day. Am I a musician? I would love to have that title, but am I that good yet?
People tell me I'm pretty. Am I a beauty queen? I don't think so. It's not who I want to be.

Then who am I? Why can I not figure it out? I'm almost 20- closer to 20 than 15. Aren't I supposed to have figured this out by now?
Or maybe that's the glorious beauty of life- you are always searching, always looking, always deciding.
Do I fit in a box? I don't think I do- I know I don't as far as religion goes. But what about other things? Do I git in a box as far as political views, emotional views, even feministic views? I don't know. Maybe. But if I can understand both sides of an argument, then how can I choose a side? Am I required to choose a side?

How can I write things that I don't understand? And yet they flow out of me unbidden. Perhaps it is the intense desire in me to know who I am, to know life, that I write. That I continue to search.
Do I like makeup? DO I like heels?
Or am I the girl that will forever walk around in sneakers because- comfort?
Will I always struggle and fail to be funny?

What is my personality? Will I continue to be a fighter, or will I eventually become a lover? Or will I find a balance between the two?
Am I destined for greatness, or will I be a quiet, unsure nobody who remains in the shadows forever? Will I stand up for what I believe in? Or will I set up the chairs at the meetings for those that believe as I do, and sit quietly in the back and let others speak my mind for me?
Will I let government institutions run my life, or will I continue to rage against all things institutional?

Who do I want to be? Will I change that?

I'm not afraid of much- not losing friends to stay true to myself, I'm not afraid of losing anything if it means staying true to myself.

But I am afraid of forgetting. Forgetting who I want to be, forgetting to fight, forgetting to love, forgetting to look past the loudness and the crazy to the quiet and the peaceful.

I will probably always search. And if I ever find the true Rena, I'll let you know.

I hope I do.

But at the same time, I hope she stays lost forever. Not only because I am afraid to stop looking, to be found, but because I need to remember to see the beauty in everything, everywhere.

Looking Back, Looking Forward

It's tradition with a lot of people to write something deep either on December 31, or January 1, to represent how they are reflecting on the past year and the new one.
Well, now it's my turn.
The past year has been heartbreaking, uplifting, painful, and healing. From one of my best friends dying, and others that I knew passing on as well- some in very painful ways- to me going through therapy and coming out a better person on the other end of it, to realizing that I hold the keys to my destiny, whatever I want to make it, this year has been one I will never regret, but will always look back on with a bittersweet nostalgia.
In January, I cut my hair. Shaved most of it off, actually. It was right after Miley Cyrus did her hair shave, and yes, she was my inspiration. I loved her courage to put herself out there and do what she wanted, so I did something similar. All but the top was shaved, and I left that at about an inch. I didn't dye it weird (unless a bright electric blue is weird), but I loved getting up in the morning and running my hands through my hair and that was it.
In February, my hair was longer and I flipped it. And now that I'm trying to think about it, I don't think much else happened in February. The marching band had the MLK parade...that's about it. Febs was a pretty dull month for me.
In March, the school band went to competition and we came back with straight superiors. Fives in everything. We were ecstatic, cheering and yelling on the way home. I was getting really depressed, but wasn't talking to anyone yet.
April. Probably the worst month of the year for me. My friend, Lauren Nesbitt, died in her sleep one night. She was only 19, and her death was so unexpected. She had Epilepsy, but she rarely had seizures, as she was outgrowing them. This one was, of course, unexpected and shocking- and when she was found the next morning, having smothered to death during her seizure. I miss her everyday- not a day goes by that I don't think about her. It was weird not getting a text from her over Christmas, or getting a call from her early this morning that began with her yelling "HAPPY NEW YEAR" in my ear.
May was my boyfriend's birthday. We celebrated by hanging out together at the mall and I bought him everything he liked, until I ran out of money. It was the beginning of something new for us- I went away on Spring Break and he went to Illinois for awhile. We were apart for a long time, and I missed him a lot. When he came home, the only place I could go without him either holding my hand or putting his arm around me or cuddling me ferociously, was the bathroom. And the same went for him. I even went so far as to refuse him the bathroom for 10 minutes because I wanted to hug him just a little while longer.
Things had changed in him, and it was good. He came back ready to move ahead with our relationship and we started planning a more concrete future together, one that was not just dreams and hopes, but what was practical and affordable-ish for our near future. Come September or October, we will most likely be living on our own together and he will be working at Metlife. I am so proud of him.
June, we graduated our Sophomore and Junior years. Summer break was a much needed thing. I was still in therapy and things were going well. A group of us, Christian, me, His sister Sam, and her boyfriend and my best friend, Bj, and Sam's best friend Sabrina, started getting together to play games, hang out, and start playing DnD. We did that through August, when I turned 18 and started my last band camp...most likely ever.
Late in August, School started again, both me and Christian's senior years, thank's to the school letting me skip my Junior year. Marching band went to every game, away or home, and we watched our Nighthawks power towards a 4th Championship.
September was the month I got a job. I love my job. Everyone is telling me to quit, to focus on school, but this job is what keeps me going, why I am sticking through school. I have something to look forward to after school.
October marked 2 years for me and Christian, as well as our last Homecoming dance in high school. We went to eat at my restaurant, and I let the waitresses fuss over my dress and jewelry, especially my coworker Cara, because she has always taken care of me at work and I love her.
November was a pretty boring month, with really nothing besides work and school happening. I went to South Carolina for my fall break, and I had an amazing visit. I was welcomed back like family, and seeing my best friends again was like going home.
December was a hard month. Old feelings were resurfacing. Two people who I once loved began a new chapter of their lives, one that left me feeling nostalgic and wishing, for some reason that I could not understand, that it was me.
And the New Year has arrived, and with it a dark night in which I contemplate the things I could do differently this year, the things I regret from last year, and what I want in my life. Something left me with a hole in my heart and I want it back. Nothing will be right until then.
But right now, my resolutions for this year are to keep my head and my heels high.

There's a Song Like That

"Do you remember the time
That we woke up at dawn
And the fog was thick
And we hid from each other?
Yeah, there's a song like that.

And do you remember the time
That I cried and you were there
The times we were all we had
And we thought our lives would fall apart?
Cause there's a song like that.

And when we were little
Songs like that were the biggest hit
And we never realized that we
Were making those memories we wanted
We never thought we'd be a song like that.

Do you remember sitting up
At three AM
And wondering where our lives would lead?
And now we see each other twice a year
And we wonder, where's the song like that?

Where's the song that told us
We'd be apart?
Where's the song that told us
How hard this would be?
But maybe someday we'll find a song like that.

And when we were little
Songs like that were the biggest hit
And we never realized that we
Were making those memories that we wanted
We never thought we'd be a song like that.

Cause I remember wishing
That we weren't so innocent
But now we aren't and we're crying
In the dead of night to get it back
Yeah....that's our song like that.

We wake up in the morning
And we follow a routine
No more spontaneous for us
And we wish we could go back
To when we had a song like that.

Cause when we were little
Songs like that were the biggest hit
And we never realized that we
Were making those memories that we wanted
We never thought we'd be a song like that."

Aaaaand I'm back!

Yay! I'm back!
I got to South Carolina on Saturday, and let me tell you, it has been a wonderful time so far. Riding horse, getting lessons, seeing friends, listening to music, and sleeping in a quiet house.
I went to my litte sister's play on Sunday night, and it was extremely enjoyable. All of the kids did a wonderful job, and the producers and directors were awesome as well. I enjoyed socializing afterwards with everyone, although I must have answered the same questions a million times- "Where are you living now?" "How is your mom?" "How many siblings do you have now?" "What have you been doing with yourself?"- and now my life is even more boring than even I thought it was.
SO far this week, Jewel and I have just been going over old memories, laughing at them, and creating new ones. I mean, how many times do you get to say, "Ouch! the ceiling hit me in the face!"
Glo is gone this time around, and I really miss her. There isn't anyone to scold us when we stay up too late, or give out back massages, or take us into town whenever we want. I miss her quite a bit, but I know she is having fun where she is. And I'm really happy for her.
I got my first English riding lesson the other day, and it was really interesting. I'm just so used to Western that I could hardly do it right. But I think I managed to sit right once for about 3 seconds, so it's a step in the right direction!
Right now though, I need to sign off cause it's not raining as much anymore and WE SHOULD PROBS HEAD DOWN TO DHEC JULES- sorry had to yell that at her.
Lataaaaasss!

Learning to be Happy

So this was my epiphany over the summer, thanks to my wonderful therapist and just my time away from school:

I was miserable last year. I was bullied, depressed, angry, and learning to deal with a new me. Over the summer, I decided to live it up. Be happy.
And I was.
Every day, I slept in late, and stayed up and out of the house until at least 3 AM, sometimes later- a few times I didn't get home til my dad was up getting ready for work and I'd walk in the door. I was tired, but I was so happy.
I was spending most of my weeks with my boyfriend, his sister, her boyfriend (who is also my best friend), her best friend (who is now my best friend as well), and their dad. We stayed up late playing Dungeons and Dragons, Pinochle, Poker, Wizard, video games, going to Geeksboro, chillin' in my backyard, attempting urban exploring at night, all sorts of things. Often it was 2 AM and the night was still young.
During all this, we all got closer. This was our group.

And for the first time in a very, very, long time, I was somewhere where I felt accepted for who I was, disorders, weird quirks, and all, and I felt like I belonged.
And that is the best feeling ever.
This led me to realize that I deserve to feel happy. I deserve to feel loved. My past has nothing to with my present, and I am free to really be me. No more religion clouding my views. No more abuse. No more worrying about what will make others happy.

Instead, I started thinking about what would make me happy. When I get old, what am I going to say about my life? That I was sad, but I made others happy? Or that I didn't worry about what made others happy, and I made myself happy, and didn't worry about what people would think of my tattoo 40 years down the road when it starts to fade?
My view now is that as long as I am happy now, I will be happy later because I will have some amazing memories to share. Not being stupid to make myself happy, but actually having fun with people I love who love me.
So when band camp came around, I was ready to take on my senior year. I started coming out of my shell and making myself known and it has already worked miracles for me. I have more friends than I did last year.
I stood up for myself to the guy that has bullied me since freshman year and we are almost friendly to each other.
I am Uniform Manager for my band and it's awesome being able to make Kimbrough's job easier, plus making going to the games easier to get ready for. And I'm still ready to take on senior year.
I'm a big girl now. It's time to pull on my steel toed shoes and step out into the real world, no matter how scary and terrifying it is. And I'm thankful to my mom and step dad for forcing me to see the raw stuff, and not sheltering me from everything that's out there.
Cause now I feel like I'm actually ready.
I don't have everything figured out- far from it. I feel like I can't see any type of future for myself anywhere, and that scares me. But as long as I am happy, and as long as I keep trying, there will be something out there for me.

So I'm going over the Holocaust for my US History class.

I didn't know until a few months ago that the word Holocaust actually meant something.
It means, "Burnt Sacrifice."

When I was sitting in class, we had just finished watching some footage from Auschwitz, the death camp. I was already feeling nauseous and my head was screaming (I'm an impath, which is a different conversation/story you can message me about if you want, so it's doubly bad for me), but when I heard that definition, I almost threw up from the impact.

Burnt Sacrifice. God's chosen people, his holy children, burnt as a sacrifice. A peace offering? A sin offering? Retribution? Repentance? And what for? They are his chosen ones, Abram's offspring. Does a father give his favorite son the worst punishment of all?
The torturing, the screaming, the brutality, the insanity of this insanity?

I really appreciated what was carved on the cell wall of one victim- it echoes so many feelings inside, not only of my own life, but of the Holocaust: "If there is a God up there, he's going to have to beg my forgiveness."