This is one of those rare opportunities where I come to this blog feeling like I have too much to say.
I guess I'll go in chronological order.
I gave up Nanowrimo. Not because of my story or of being tired of it, but because of a crazy series of events which I'm about to describe to you.
Friday night at six o'clock, I entered into a three day intensive therapy workshop recommended to me by my therapist.
While it may sound corny, I can honestly say it was one of the greatest things that has ever happened to me.
Friday night I entered the workshop, surrounded by 60 complete strangers. 20 of them were students, like me. The rest were "angels", who were there to assist us on our journey. Most of the angels were former students who'd gone through the seminar, with a few therapists. The whole shindig was led by two therapists, one of them being my personal therapist, Vicki, and the other being this man named Bert.
I was so nervous before I went. I wanted to die. Everyone knows I am a painfully shy person, so on the first night, being in that room full of strangers and getting in front of them and telling everyone what I wanted to get out of the weekend, was a terrifying experience for me. I wanted to run away.
Our Saturday session was from 8 AM to 11 PM. I honestly did not want to go back, at all. But, since my parents were paying for it I knew I had too. Saturday was where everything changed.
I don't want to tell you too much about the workshop, but it was brilliant. There was so much love, so much closeness and nurturing, and we did exercises and things to release all the negative shit everyone had been carrying around. By the end of it, my fellow students and all the angels were collectively my family. I met beautiful, wonderful people, and I'm closer to them than I am with anyone else. Everyone came from all walks of life. There were different genders, races, ages, sizes, shapes, sexualities, stories. I'd tell you everything I could about these beautiful, wonderful people but I don't know where to start. Everyone was just lovely.
By the end of it on Sunday night at 8 o'clock, I was a completely changed person. I was able to get in front of everyone for my "graduation" and give a improvised speech, while wearing bunny ears, completely confident and comfortable. I was happy, I was at peace, I was relieved. Everyone in the room was the same exact way.
I watched a 200 pound bald black man dance around the room with a green feathered hat and a pair of granny panties pulled on over his jeans while singing "Bootylicious" with his tongue out. I cuddled on some beanbags with a 70 year old woman and a man with waist length dreadlocks. I said "fuck" a lot. I fell in love with everyone. I gave a speech with bunny ears on my head.
It was so sad having to say goodbye to everybody. But the good news is, I can go back and be an angel now, and see some of them again.
I went to bed Sunday night completely drained, in a good way.
This morning, I woke up to 20+ texts and calls from my friends. The first person I called back was Amy. And she informed me that my good friend Chelsea Rodriguez was killed in a car accident last night.
I couldn't believe it. I still don't. I cannot possibly wrap my head around the fact that someone so beautiful, so perfect, so happy, so strong, could be dead. I can't. Logically, in my brain I know that she's gone. I won't receive one of her good morning text messages ever again. But in my heart, I still feel like they've made a mistake. They've got the wrong girl. Clearly they are wrong.
But I know when I go to her memorial service on Friday, it'll hit me. Then I'll be a wreck. But right now, I don't feel anything but shock and disbelief.
Because of this, I didn't change my plans for tonight. I figured it would be better for me to get off Facebook- where my news feed is covered with pictures of her and statuses about her and wall posts written to her, messages and prayers she'll never read- and go be with friends.
It may sound selfish, but honestly, I don't think Chelsea would've expected any different. She wouldn't have wanted us to sit at home and mope over her death, she would want us to be out living life to the maximum capacity, just like she did. And if there was anything I learned from her loss, it was to make every second count, and to cherish every possible moment with friends, because life is too fragile.
So, in the evening I went over to JP's, where I hung out with him, Chris, Ryan, and Tuene for a little while. We hung out in JP's garage, talked about Chelsea and listened to JP play the guitar.
Later, Bradley, Heather, and Michael Cera joined us and we went off to GameStop, to prepare for the midnight release of a video game called Black Ops?
Brad, Chris, and JP went and got their ticket with their number on it for line at midnight, and we all ate at Panda Express. Heather and Ryan left early because they're still in high school (haha). The rest of us killed the time by wandering around Wal Mart and eating at Steak and Shake, and generally goofing off. I got to know Michael Cera more, which was lovely. He is really sweet and laughs at my corniness, and gets even more adorable the more I get to know him.
And we may or may not have cuddled/held hands.
Honestly right now, everything has been timed so perfectly. I needed this weekend. If I hadn't have had the experience I had, I wouldn't know how to handle the loss of Chelsea. Of course, I haven't handled it yet, because it hasn't sunk in, but when it does, I'll know how to let it all out. If I hadn't taken the workshop, I would take it in stride like I normally would, and let it eat me up inside forever.
I also came to a realization this weekend, that I am a person, a living miracle. I am a body, a heart, a brain, a soul. And that, in itself, means that I am worthy of love. This has affected me in so, so, so, so many ways. And that includes the way I view relationships and romance.
I now know that I pick out the guys that reject me, neglect me, and don't treat me like I deserve. I choose guys that leave me hanging, that don't make me a priority. Posh Spice and Vanilla Ice are prime examples of this. Taking the workshop has made me want to give this bad habit up, and accept what I deserve, which is someone who is sweet, caring, and wants me as much as I want them. And while it's much, much too early to predict or call anything, I know that Michael Cera couldn't have entered my life at a better time. He is sweet, caring, and wants to know me as much as I want to know him.
I spent a short amount of time tonight feeling guilty for feeling all these good things while this tragedy has happened. I should be miserable, I should be mourning for Chelsea. But honestly, I will cross that bridge when I get to it, and Chelsea would have expected me to love and live my life. Even in the midst of shittiness.
Because of Chelsea, I'm going to make all of this count. I'm going to be the positive, loving person I've always wanted to be. I'm going to send out good morning texts, just like she did. I'm going to love everyone like I should. I'm going to live my life to it's fullest potential and appreciate every single person involved.
This one's for you, Chels.