Reason 20

I met her February 24th 2013, at the RNA showgrounds for Soundwave in Brisbane, Australia. The day of my second trauma. I don't regret spending $400 USD on my ticket or wearing my "Enema of the state" Nurse outfit to the concert or not getting in the mosh pit at all that day because at the end of all of it I had met Bec.

Even though we both went to USC and had multiple classes together, there wasn't a chance in hell we would have ever spoken if it weren't for Luke introducing us at Soundwave. For that I am forever thankful.

I remember when we first met I hung out with her boyfriend, Nick, more because every weekend she had to go away to work. Too many times I had been in situations where I lost guy friends because their girlfriends didn't like them hanging out with other girls. I was worried equally as much that I would lose her friendship as well.

8 years later, that still hasn't happened.

As a uni student you really only need one or two close classmates to pull all-nighters and cram sessions with. Bec was my number one choice. If it wasn't in a random computer lab, it was in her apartment on the pullout couch. She was the balance between good grades, social life, and just enough sleep.

While I was in Australia we never got up to anything too crazy because she usually had to work. However, she is that friend who made sure she got time off for my 23rd birthday in Gold Coast. She rocked up and danced all night by my side when everyone else needed to go back to the hostel for more alcohol. There are only a few nights that I have had the privilege of dancing all night (especially since I left the U.S. just after turning 21). Bec made sure nothing stopped us. Not the creeps trying to grope us. Not my boyfriend who wanted us to come back to the hostel. Not sobering up.

Most importantly though, is the depth to which she understands mental illness. Having that friend who both experiences her own and understands others' is so vital to my sanity. Knowing that I don't need her to have answers or advice, just someone to hear me when my PTSD gets too loud.

There is never any judgment or frustration, only 'I understand' and ' me too'.

I remember when she came to Cali we were both so 'blah'. I had to work and couldn't take too many days off. She was so good about going places with my friends and finding things to do on her own. My favorite was all the times she'd show up for my lunch break and hang out with me. We did not need a plan or to do big extravagant events. We could come up with fun little things on the fly and laugh about pretty much anything.

I used to live for our care packages. I have no idea which was more exciting, making one for her or getting hers in the mail. There's always Tim Tams (even though they sell them at Target in the U.S. now) and letters 'to open when...' All her letters are scattered across my walls and pin boards. I catch myself skimming their messages often. One of the quickest ways to get a smile on my face is to glimpse at one of the pages and its content. I've got a few here with me now and I'm tempted to open them all but I know it is better to open them exactly when it says to. Especially because I just saw her less than a week ago, as of writing this.

When I saw Bec for the time in three years at the passenger pick up at Brisbane international airport, I nearly cried. I was so relieved. It was like seeing your soul mate for the first time after being away on a really long holiday. Maybe Australia only feels like home because of her. All I know is there is this release of tension when I am around her. That all of the things she knows of me, do not prevent her from letting me be someone new. I can continue to reinvent myself and on my bad days I know I am not going it alone.

Bec is the one woman in my life who truly makes me feel like I am not in this alone. While she fights a different kind of darkness we are both are both fighting together.

That is why I keep living. Because I am loved. Because I love her too much to let her live a life without me.