Is It Okay For Me to Be Unedited?
by Rebecca Rivero
It feels like it has been a long time since I have talked about myself and about Middle Women. I also don’t know the last time I was really honest about how I have been. I want to right now because every day I go out into Bellingham either downtown or to Western’s campus I run into people who know of me, they don’t really know me, just of me.
“Hey, you’re Rebecca aren’t you? You do something with that group Middle Women, right?”
I honestly enjoy the attention and I often reply with “Yes, hello. I am the founder of Middle Women, what is your name?” I get praised, told that I am great or awesome, a big smile, sometimes a hug. It’s a wonderful experience.
I usually tell my partner Thomas about it and he wonders why I’m not as excited lately as I have been in the past. I have been trying to explain to him and I will try to explain to you that the reason these interactions don’t completely fill me up with joy is that I don’t feel like anyone really knows me. To know fault of their own, of course.
People know bits about my story because I have shared about my eating disorder online and with anyone who wants to talk about it. One of the most satisfying conversations for me is when I am hope and others feel that they can be too. So, I am going to try that again. I love that I seem to be loved by people who I have never met. I love being seen as successful, as a source of inspiration. I hope that I can still be that even when people know more about me. More about the me than until now I haven’t tried to seriously tell anyone about.
Some days are betters than others and frankly some days for me a terrifying. My councilor and I have discovered that I have a hard time with emotion regulation. I feel like that is an understatement, but I can’t think of anything more fitting to title it as. Some days I am light as air, bouncing around, everything is beautiful and I am so happy to just be alive! Other days (or even sometimes just other moments) I would do just about anything to not be inside my own head anymore. Gosh, I’m sitting here on my bed writing this out and I am having a really hard time typing what I know needs to be said.
Suicidal.
To me it is almost as scary of a word as it is when I feel it. Some moments I wish that I would just cease to exist. I question the meaning of my life, of life in general and the consequences of not being around anymore. I have never attempted to kill myself, but the thoughts are there.
Self harm.
I am trying desperately not to.
Frankly, I am ashamed of myself, which isn’t very helpful. I started an run an organization that aims to help individuals believe in their passions, beauty, and individual worth. Your self esteem means so much to me! And yet… I often feel that I have less figured out than some of you that I have the pleasure of meeting.
Thomas says that this is okay. This up and down journey that I am on with surely teach me a lot and may even help in the long run, but when I am screaming at him, throwing things, hiding under our bed, refusing to eat, pushing him away and having some of the most negative self talk that I could think of I am just not sure. I have learned, through the help of my extraordinary councilor that a lot of the emotions that have been coming out of me in waves are unresolved issues from my past.
When I am criticized I am not in the moment, I am back in elementary school where I didn’t read fast enough to keep up with some of the other students.
When Thomas backs out of a plan we made, I am not logically thinking about that one situation, I am thinking about all the times my father made promises that he wanted to keep, but for whatever reason couldn’t. That’s the big one.
I think it is true that we are harder on ourselves than anyone else might be on us. The pressure to be enough, to do enough, to know enough is so instilled in me that even though I am graduated now and I get to choose how and when I work, I still don’t feel satisfied with myself. I have no idea whose rubric I am measuring myself against, but man is it difficult. Damn near impossible to live up to.
I think that some of you might be able to relate to some of these ideas, maybe you are going through something similar. It helps me to think about how I am not alone.
Thank you to all of the brave people in my life who share themselves so openly with others. You have made me feel like I can do this.
“Hey, you’re Rebecca aren’t you? You do something with that group Middle Women, right?”
I honestly enjoy the attention and I often reply with “Yes, hello. I am the founder of Middle Women, what is your name?” I get praised, told that I am great or awesome, a big smile, sometimes a hug. It’s a wonderful experience.
I usually tell my partner Thomas about it and he wonders why I’m not as excited lately as I have been in the past. I have been trying to explain to him and I will try to explain to you that the reason these interactions don’t completely fill me up with joy is that I don’t feel like anyone really knows me. To know fault of their own, of course.
People know bits about my story because I have shared about my eating disorder online and with anyone who wants to talk about it. One of the most satisfying conversations for me is when I am hope and others feel that they can be too. So, I am going to try that again. I love that I seem to be loved by people who I have never met. I love being seen as successful, as a source of inspiration. I hope that I can still be that even when people know more about me. More about the me than until now I haven’t tried to seriously tell anyone about.
Some days are betters than others and frankly some days for me a terrifying. My councilor and I have discovered that I have a hard time with emotion regulation. I feel like that is an understatement, but I can’t think of anything more fitting to title it as. Some days I am light as air, bouncing around, everything is beautiful and I am so happy to just be alive! Other days (or even sometimes just other moments) I would do just about anything to not be inside my own head anymore. Gosh, I’m sitting here on my bed writing this out and I am having a really hard time typing what I know needs to be said.
Suicidal.
To me it is almost as scary of a word as it is when I feel it. Some moments I wish that I would just cease to exist. I question the meaning of my life, of life in general and the consequences of not being around anymore. I have never attempted to kill myself, but the thoughts are there.
Self harm.
I am trying desperately not to.
Frankly, I am ashamed of myself, which isn’t very helpful. I started an run an organization that aims to help individuals believe in their passions, beauty, and individual worth. Your self esteem means so much to me! And yet… I often feel that I have less figured out than some of you that I have the pleasure of meeting.
Thomas says that this is okay. This up and down journey that I am on with surely teach me a lot and may even help in the long run, but when I am screaming at him, throwing things, hiding under our bed, refusing to eat, pushing him away and having some of the most negative self talk that I could think of I am just not sure. I have learned, through the help of my extraordinary councilor that a lot of the emotions that have been coming out of me in waves are unresolved issues from my past.
When I am criticized I am not in the moment, I am back in elementary school where I didn’t read fast enough to keep up with some of the other students.
When Thomas backs out of a plan we made, I am not logically thinking about that one situation, I am thinking about all the times my father made promises that he wanted to keep, but for whatever reason couldn’t. That’s the big one.
I think it is true that we are harder on ourselves than anyone else might be on us. The pressure to be enough, to do enough, to know enough is so instilled in me that even though I am graduated now and I get to choose how and when I work, I still don’t feel satisfied with myself. I have no idea whose rubric I am measuring myself against, but man is it difficult. Damn near impossible to live up to.
I think that some of you might be able to relate to some of these ideas, maybe you are going through something similar. It helps me to think about how I am not alone.
Thank you to all of the brave people in my life who share themselves so openly with others. You have made me feel like I can do this.
