Affectionately Bitchface

Sadie walked into my life and challenged me. She showed me the same fierce love I show to others, she believed in me. I believed in her. She accepted and even asked for my help as often as I asked for hers. We felt safe in being vulnerable. She could be so nasty and rude sometimes and it was funny. I would laugh, she would laugh, and then you could see the soft side of her leak from the corners of hers eyes while she talked about the love she has for her dad. She was a momma. And she didn’t want to be like her momma. She wanted to be there. To be sober. To raise her daughters. She struggled, I mean we all do. She didn’t reach out, did she? I play those last few years back and I know I was just as busy and we didn’t visit often anymore. I wanted to, it wasn’t just me. I didn’t realize how badly she was hurting. It was in January that I heard from a mutual friend that she died. Her partner told me how. I couldn’t make it to the memorial. I miss her so damn much.

I’m still mad at her.


Our tiny home sweet home

Last April, my partner and I decided to buy a school bus and convert it into a tiny home. We planned to do this over several months while living in a house, but as life is ever-changing we bought the bus in time to move out of our rented house and into the bus. 

The 25ft 1987 international school bus we purchased was previously converted by what looked like two separate people at different times. The front half looked to be taken from a 1950’s camper. The bunk was full sized and the bathroom was scary. There was also three feet of storage space in the back.

I think all that remains of that conversion is a small part of the cupboards. And even that is going to be replaced in time.

We started out by tearing almost everything out. We salvaged some of the lumber and screws, but most of it went to the dump. 

Since we had to move in so quickly, it’s been a huge process getting things done. Most of our belongings are in storage. It’s nice, but also since its out of sight, it’s not being dealt with. I am trying to downsize and simplify our lives. We want to buy land and grow a huge garden. 

So now that we have been living in the kaos for almost six months now, it actually looks like we are moving in the right direction! We also have children and that makes remodeling even more interesting! I’m very thankful for their patience. I plan to share pictures and our progress soon. It’s more to document things for our loved ones, but also ourselves. 

More to come!

My friends are moving.

I am not generally a needy person. I tend to seperate  myself from my friends at times. It’s not that I don’t need them, or that I don’t want them in my life. It’s just that I am a bit of a home body and like sticking to my routine. It’s part of who I am. I have enjoyed those times when life is busy and social, but I cling to my solace. 

Now that my friends have been moving on, or moving away, I find myself missing them a whole lot. I do have some people close to me that have not lived close to me for some time, but somehow that works for us. We come together and really enjoy the heck out of our visits. I hope the friends that are moving or have moved away are able to share in those kind of experiences with me still. 

I think I might be a little sad. But at the same time I am super excited about  the adventures they are on, or are about to be on. I feel so blessed to have known such amazing people in my lifetime. I keep memories of our talks and fun times floating around in my head and that makes me happy. 

A Patchwork Life (part one)

You know how beautiful an old patchwork quilt can be? It has a story to every tear mended and each new fabric added. That is how I see my life. It is beautiful. It has been torn, drug through the dirt, left damp a few times, seen a bit too much sun, and needed much mending. And I am not even close to done! I have experienced a lot in these short 35 years I have lived, and each bit has added a colorful memory, an interesting twist to who I am.

I was born to a single mom, I am the oldest. I have two younger sisters that I was raised with, one older stepbrother, and one younger brother who I wasn’t raised with. We had a hard life at times. There was physical, mental, and sexual abuse in the house when I was between 5-7 years old. My mother took us all and fled that horrible environment. I told a lie to the police while we stayed at a shelter to help our escape. At seven I knew that we could just not go back to that man. My mother struggled, we moved many times throughout my younger years. I don’t know how we got by. I know it wasn’t easy for my mom. She has depression. We eventually landed in Shoreline, Washington in 1992, in a trailer park next to a small lake. I played so hard as a child, often times coming home just after dark with dirt everywhere and new scratches on my arms or legs, and holes in my clothes. My imagination went wild while I was a child, I can’t really say its changed much. I had a hard time making friends when I was young with kids my own age. I either hung out with my little sister and her friends, or adults. Both seemed to be able to accept me as I was and not make fun of my way of playing.

As I approached adulthood, I sought out the company of people who lived an alternative lifestyle. Hippies. I moved across state to Spokane with my cousin a few months after my 18th birthday. We had a lot of fun, but we weren’t being very responsible. We went to Barter Faires, and stayed out late. I am thankful that we didn’t find ourselves in more trouble. I also fell very much in love with a man. I had only dated boys before that, and I was still only 18. He was 22 years old and already had two young children. We were only together together a few months, but as I left my apartment behind and stuck out my thumb, I knew I wasn’t over him.

That summer, my cousin and I hitchhiked down the west coast and east into Arizona. I was headed to my first National Rainbow Gathering of the Tribes. The trip down the coast was a blast in my opinion. I rarely felt unsafe, even climbing into stranger’s vehicles, or sleeping just off of on ramps to the highway. Mostly I traveled with a guy named Cylindrian, who I had met in Spokane. He was only 16, a run away from Canada. He was generally very soft spoken, but when needed he could play the part of a protective boyfriend. We talked for hours, not that there was much else to do, and I really enjoyed his company. We arrived in the Sitgreaves National Forest right as the sun was setting. My cousin and her boyfriend had left in a different car just before we entered Arizona and we were to find them before setting up camp. Cylinder and I didn’t even have a tent, or blanket. We fell asleep cuddled under a big velvet skirt I had made from an antique dress, on the rocky ground. It was so dark, we had no idea where we were and it was cold! In the morning, I think he and I woke at the same time to someone nearby shouting “Welcome Home! We Love You!” and the echo of hundreds of “love you’s” moved in waves around us. It brought tears to my eyes. We stayed there about a month.

Cylindar found fairie camp and I only saw him one other time, covered in glitter and paint.

After a few more months of traveling I came back home. I felt disconnected from my life and started to make rash decisions. I got pregnant that fall and moved in with my mom and sister. I got a job and started planning how I wanted to raise the child that grew inside me. It was a lonely experience being pregnant for the first time. I felt more love for her than I had ever felt for anyone, ever. But I was afraid and sad also. I didn’t know what I was doing, and I didn’t have anyone by my side throughout it all. I cried myself to sleep most nights. I felt a lot of pain with the changes my body was going through, but I had hope. My mother and my sister were there for me and I treated them badly. When I was home I was either sleeping or yelling at them to leave me alone.  We survived though and they were at the birth of my first child. 

The first six months of her life I struggled. I was new to being a parent; of having someone depend solely on me. I breastfed, used cloth diapers, and sought out to connect with other young moms. In that first year I think I felt the most loved and yet most alone up til that point in my life. I lost most of my social life because hanging out wasn’t as much fun as it once was and I just thought about my baby girl the whole time. 

Around the time she turned one, I was taking us both to a nation rainbow gathering in Montana. That was quite an adventure.

I will update and finish this at another time, just want to get it out there! 

The Family Faire-

It’s winter, but I am already thinking about faire season. Ive seen postings on Facebook for the spring opener and it feels like April is just around the corner. I have been attending Barter Faires since 1998. They are nothing like they once were, but they still feel like home to me.When I started going I was 18 years old and we would pile as many people into the car as we could and head north from Spokane. My cousins and I would get so excited as we pulled into line and as soon as we handed over our cash and heard “Welcome Home!”, I knew I was going to have a good time. I didn’t party hard like so many people I know did, and still do. I just sat a lot, in the sun, looking around at all the beautiful people. Music permeated the air along with the smell of food, and a blur of color all around. My favorite times at faire were early in the mornings when most of the people were still sleeping in their tents. That’s when I could talk with the elders, and meet with some amazing people who worked in booths at the faire. Every time we would leave, it felt as though the weekend somehow was shorter than it was supposed to be, that I was being robbed of time. I know now that it was because  I felt like I was at home in the woods, with all the misfits and merry-makers. It was as we drove through town to our house on the South Hill that I came to realize that I didn’t want to be there, I didn’t want to go to work Monday morning, or pay rent. I wanted to travel and be free, to make music and art, to write and smile. That was a beautiful summer. That was before I had children.

Once I had children, my faire experience changed. I got to know people who lived within the faire circle better. I remember one faire, early on we had started making a few friends. It was my new husband, my seven month old son, my two year old daughter, my five year old stepson, and my seven year old stepdaughter and I at Potter Chuck’s place. I was cleaning my baby’s eyes and asked a woman if she had some warm water I could use. I hadn’t had experience with conjunctivitis before then. The woman pointed me in the direction of a silver bus and told me the lady who lived there would be able to better help me. That day I was introduced not only to the herb eyebright, but also to a family who lived on the road and opened mine and my husband’s eyes to a subculture that would become our lives for the next few years. After that faire we decided to start our own food booth. We started going to the faires early, stayed late, and made friends that I will keep in my heart forever. Our children have benefited from knowing the people at the faire, and even though not every person attending the faire is family oriented, they provide an example of how one could live, for my children.

I no longer have a booth. But I think I will again one day. I still go to the faires, though there arent as many as there once were, and I of course take my children. And I still feel at home at the faire.

A Good Place to Begin

My name is Rebekah Love. Today is Saturday and I only have my youngest home. She is 16 1/2 months old and just fell asleep for a nap. She is my youngest of many. She is the only child my partner and I have together. She is my little Sweet Pea. I dont know if she quite realizes how blessed she is being the youngest of this family. Sweet Pea has many older siblings to watch over her, to spoil her, to teach her everything she needs to know in life. I wonder what she will do with all that support and love.

My hope for the day is to finish this blog and not delete it all again! I am having a hard time getting started. And then, once I am done I plan to finish cleaning my dining room. I started it yesterday and I got almost everything put away of thrown away. I am trying to simplify my home. I do this every so often, life gets busy and I run out of energy to finish what I have started. Yesterday i got rid of 6 large bags of clothes and toys! and I only brought home one bag with clothes for Sweet Pea from her aunty. This is about the point when I get stuck not knowing what to say next.

I used to write all the time. And I have a gift for it at times, at least for putting words together in such a way that others can understand them and even appreciate what I have to say. This is also a little scary for me to put myself out for others to see, but its what I want to do with my life. I want to write. I want others to read what I am writing. I figure if I just get this out there, next time will be a little easier. I had a plan, which I forgot. I had a few topics of interest, which I didn’t write down and so now I am struggling. But at least I am putting some words down, right? And I am no more vulnerable now, than if I had stuck to a plan. At least that is my thinking. I will improve, with time and confidence.

I feel pretty blessed in this life. I have so many supportive people that let me know that I can do whatever I put my mind to. And I want to write this blog not only for myself and people I don’t know, but also for all those who support and love me. I feel that it is one way I can give back, to them, to myself. I deserve this. I love us all! I am going to go and think some more about what I want to write here, while I clean the dining room. I am hoping to get a little feedback, be gentle.

Thanks for reading,

Rebekah Love