A Glass of Rosé, an Empty Bowl of Pasta, and a Copy of “Little Women”


I am sitting on my bed with a glass of Rosé, an empty bowl of pasta, and a copy of “Little Women” next to me.


I just finished listening to the first episode of Brené Brown’s podcast, “Unlocking Us.” On the episode she talked about FFT’s (Fucking First Times). And writing this is a major FFT for me. I have always wanted to write and start my own blog. For years I would write random pieces that would try to fit into a mold of what it looked like to have a blog, particularly a Christian blog. That mold is not too structured. I have so many thoughts and opinions and dreams to share that made trying to fit into that mold suffocating. I want to talk about life, real life. The real and rawness of being human that I feel many fellow Christian’s hide. I am starting now and I am hopeful for the ways I will grow and those around me will grow.

Currently, I am in the middle of the COVID-19 pandemic and surrounded by uncertainty. I have spent the beginning of this past week acting unaffected by the unknown, to then having multiple break downs in the past two or three days. But that’s how it usually goes for me. I think I am fine and then one thing will trigger everything under the surface that either I didn’t know was there or I was completely avoiding. I am most definitely someone who avoids my emotions before I feel them and will probably be working on growing out of that my entire life.

My trip to Boston to visit one of my best friends was cancelled due to the spreading virus and I covered up my emotions of disappointment by dying my hair, subtle right? I went back to Blacksburg to the house I live in with my six roommates to find only three of them there. To cover up my sadness, I talked about how this time in quarantine was made for introverts and, really, I’m thriving. Then came the day when my roommate and best friend came to move out the majority of her belongings, leaving only her bed.

As I watched her, her mother, and her sister carrying each dresser drawer, book, and piece of clothing from her room that she had lived in for the past three years, I was hit with many emotions. Yet, I still avoided them and binge watched “Sex and the City” for a few hours. Later that night when I was alone, I had my first break down of the week. I wrote out my thoughts and feelings in the rawest way. I was sad and disappointed that I didn’t get to see my best friend who I had been used to seeing everyday just a few months before. That my best friend moved out without warning. That my summer internship, at a place that has brought me more peace and freedom in my 21 years than any other place, was uncertain of even happening at all. That in the midst of all of this, I was processing through hurt from the end of a relationship, unfulfilled promises from family, and the already unknown of graduating from college.

Through writing out my thoughts, I reflected on the immense ways I have changed in my four years of college. I do not know how to put into words who I was four years ago, that girl seems like a whole different person who does not exist anymore. I thought about who I am now and the women I have grown into and how vastly different they are. As I was writing, the question, “who am I becoming?”, came up multiple times in my mind.

Maybe it’s because I just bought Michelle Obama’s memoir, “Becoming”, or maybe it’s because I wake up each day not know anything about the next minute. What news I will receive. What conversation I will have. What I will think about. And in the midst of all of these emotions that I am experiencing in a new way and the amount of uncertainty that seems to be surrounding me and the entire world in a profound way…who am I becoming?

Who am I underneath the hurt and pain? Who am I aside from who culture and people around me say I should be? Who am I? Who am I becoming?

Well, I guess I have some free time to think about that question.