"Rebecca, one of the reasons I love you so  'effing much is that you don't give a damn what people think about you!" He said in an agitated way.  He was frustrated with me because I was obsessing over a situation with another friend; I was agonizing, actually, because in a way, I was being emotionally blackmailed and didn't realize it a the time.  I was feeling tempted to override my internal compass and go with what the other person wanted, even though it didn't feel right to me.  I didn't want them to think badly of me.

I guess that was the first time he ever really witnessed one of my vulnerabilities and it didn't sit well with him.  He knew me as the "This is me, take what you get or leave me" kind of gal I had always portrayed up until that moment.  Even those of us who are the best at  just being who we are despite what other people think sometimes falter.  It is human nature to want to be accepted by others, and it is that very natural need that sometimes drives us toward unnatural and even unhealthy behaviors.

My boyfriend at the time (AKA, the Blackmailer) was standing on the other side of the kitchen wall eavesdropping.  He didn't think we knew he was there, but in a way, we were tailoring our conversation just for him.  Goose took my by my shoulders and got an inch from my face. "Stop acting like a dumb shit and be Rebecca again!" He demanded.  Then he smooched me, right on the lips-not in a smutty or sexual way, but as if we were two stooges and he had just poked me in both my eyes.

On the other side of the wall we heard quiet, slow footsteps walking away as we both settled back into our places on the couch together.

"Rebecca," he said.  "You are so fucking awesome. I don't know why you don't understand that."
"I'm just me." I said. "Nothing special here. Keep moving folks!"

In a moment the serious conversation had turned to laughter and the Blackmailer was all but forgotten, off somewhere pouting about how he didn't get his way while Goose and I laughed until we hurt.

When I moved last week, I opened up a box of framed photos and this one was on top.  There he was, looking back at me, and in an instant I felt kind of ashamed of who I have become lately.  What ever happened to that girl who used to be so free-spirited and unconcerned about what other people thought of her?  What would he think of me now if he knew what I've allowed in my life?

I put the photo on the end table near the TV, so it's looking back at me when I'm sitting on my couch. Beside it is a picture of my parents, who I know for sure, even though they've never been perfect, have always wanted the best for me.  I have them all sitting there, three people who I know for sure have loved me for who I am, or despite who I am for as long as I was a part of their lives.  Goose was not perfect, he had his flaws for sure.  My mother also had her struggles.  My dad loves me still and I know any of them would be heart-broken to know how heart broken I have become.

Every time I see them looking back at me, I remember who I am supposed to be and I feel compelled to be strong, to be determined; I feel like being Rebecca again...The one who was so effing awesome because she was just herself, despite who might or might not approve.

Sometimes I wish he were still around to give me a good reality check, but I'm thankful  he talked straight to me that night in my living room, and that his voice still echoes in my head, reminding me to just BE, and let be.