RIP Natalie Jane

I got the call around 3 today.
It was a headhunter.
Oh I can't wait to tell them I have a sick ass job I thought, that'll shock em.

But actually, it was me who was shocked.

They were calling to tell me that our mutual friend had passed away on Friday night, with complications from depression. She wanted to make sure I knew.

Awkward, sad, lighthearted conversation followed with plans for a memorial. And we hung up.

I went through the movements. Grabbed my coat, my phone, my key card, made polite small talk with a co worker and left the office. I burst into tears not even sure if I had really thought through what was going on. Not feeling genuine. Feeling impulsive.

I encountered every interaction I had with her to my boyfriend. Telling him about her curly hair she had shaved off recently. Her kindness towards me at work. The goodbye post-it she was forced to leave me two years ago as the company didn't tell her it was her last day until it was her last day.

I didn't feel better. I didn't feel calm. I didn't feel how I felt I was supposed to.

I called everyone I trusted to talk to about this and no one was answering, as I walked through the cemetery next to my office.

I expected I was supposed to be alone with my feelings, with the uncomfortability of not having them, not knowing them. And as I walked past the graves and I felt the cold sting my nose and blinked the sun out of my eyes and I gave myself permission to feel uncomfortable.

I thought of her. Not just what I wanted to remember but what I remembered. I remembered thinking when I first met her how she was kind of dull, her crazy curls should have been straightened and I bet I was a better writer than her.

And then one day she came out of no where with a kind of kindness, a light and a vibe that was overwhelmingly warm, comforting. My hardness cracked and I met Natalie.


We did the standard new acquaintance thing.  We liked each other's statuses and instagram photos.

We ran into each other in the bus tunnel. Once again me attempting to avoid what could be an awkward conversation and her jumping right in with a huge smile and now short, straight hair. Five minutes later me racing to catch my bus as I had almost missed it I was so into the conversation. Feeling warm inside, feeling just calm, confident, happy.

One day when I was in treatment she wrote me about this blog. And she sympathized. She made me feel less alone. We talked and traded stories.

Later, she invited me to her church and out to eat. She accepted me, as I was. She understood.

I read over our messages and I almost bailed on her because I had binged and purged the night before and felt awful. Now my heart pings with shame. But I went and I remember I didn't like church but I liked the food, I liked the company and we met again at some point.

I feel like I have talked to her since and kept up with her on social media but that's not really 'keeping up' with someone. I didn't know she was hurting. She reached out to me when I was in a time of need, and while I'm not saying I could have prevented this...I want to say something along the lines of how important I believe being authentic and transparent is.

Acceptance and authenticity are values of mine, they are why I write. It is why I will be honest to your face about whatever I'm going through. It is why I want you to message me, comment, talk to me. If it weren't for her reaching out that one day after reading my blog I might have never gotten to know her. I might not have learned my lesson to not judge a book by its cover. I might not have learned how far a nice conversation can go.

I can't really get profound or give advice because I don't understand life or how this works but I do know that it's hard. Life is hard. It is not what is put out there for all of us to see from movies, tv ads, pintrest and facebook statuses. Life is difficult. It's wonderful and not all bad but it frustrates me and motivates me to write even more because I don't believe what we really go through is talked about or out there.

So I will keep being honest with you all. I will tell you how fucking lonely I am here. How I went inside my shell yesterday and didn't talk to anyone and I was miserable. And then today I said fuck it and tried to make friends and it sort of worked. That I left my headphones at home and that sucked. That I avoided all eye contact with my boss today our of fear that he saw my typo in my email and I would be judged. That I'm wearing all Christmas stuff minus my yoga pants that I did weird squats in to stretch them out for like a minute. That I forgot to text a friend back for a full day who asked for my help. That I wear the same outfit when I get home every night. And I totally took tissues from work.

I will basically try to be as me as possible in here so hopefully you can relate, feel more comfortable with what's going on in your head and feel like you have an outlet for it.

She gave me an outlet and hope and I will not forget that. I will miss her happiness posts on Facebook and the gazillion pictures of her dogs, I will probably unwillingly look for her every time I am in Westlake's tunnel and as I pass Microsoft. But mostly I will think of her when I choose to act on the lessons she unknowingly taught me.

RIP Natalie. You are missed but not forgotten.