So, this is a blog, huh? I’ve been considering starting a blog for as long as I’ve known what a blog was. Yet, there was always something holding me back. I could create a million lame excuses not to do it, and to be totally honest, I’m not sure what’s different this time around. The biggest reason I always had for not beginning was that I felt selfish. I figured no one in the whole world was interested in hearing about my life. Why bother? Slowly, I’ve been coming to the realization that sometimes, you have to do things regardless of how they may be perceived by others. If people end up loving my blog, that would be great, but it shouldn’t be a prerequisite to having a blog to begin with. If my motivation isn’t self-centered, then it also isn’t sustainable. Thus, here I am, writing my first ever blog post after a few hours of building this site with the understanding that maybe no one will ever even read it. I have to say, it feels pretty good. It’s like an unwritten goal I’ve had for years, finally coming to fruition. I’m doing this for myself, first and foremost.
The events leading to the naming of this blog originated in Colorado. Once upon a time, I lived in my car with a man I’d met on Tinder (yes, really.) He introduced me to many things, and one of them was the concept of Rainbow Gatherings. Essentially, Rainbow Gatherings are temporary communes. Hippies gather in National Forests to exercise their right to Freedom of Assembly. They cook giant meals to share in Main Circle. They dig latrines and build camps. For 1 to 3 weeks, life is simplified. Then, it’s all torn down, packed up, and if they did it correctly, you won’t even be able to tell anyone was there. Some people travel from gathering to gathering, while others attend only the ones in their home state. It just so happened that my first Rainbow Gathering was located in Colorado. The man I met on Tinder’s legal name was Zach, but he was fond of people calling him Lucky. Most people we met called themselves by other such names. A few honorable mentions: Lunchbox, Hotdog, Fox, Sunny, and Sparrow. As time went on, Lucky began pestering me about my own name. I couldn’t think of anything that fit. It felt unnatural to call myself anything other than my given name. Finally, I settled with the first letter of my name as a moniker. I became B.
At first, it felt like I was just calling myself B to fit in. It didn’t mean anything to me. It was just something meant to appease those who wanted me to have some cool name. In fact, if it weren’t for Lucky introducing me as B, most times I would’ve just continued using my own name. As the months passed, I began wondering what it meant to be. It’s possible the use of psychedelics had made me feel existential, but I kept coming back to the idea of just being. For most of my life, I’ve been obsessed with control. Anxiety has plagued me, because I can’t just let things be how they are. The life of traveling is not a forgiving one for someone like me. There were many times I was completely out of control of the situations I’d found myself in. I had to learn how to accept reality as it was and simply be. So, my name took on a deeper meaning. No more was I only a letter, I was a concept, something to ponder. When I told people my name was B, I loved the versatility. They could hear B, be, or bee, and I would become whatever their brains decided. The name was alive as much as I was, and I fell in love with it.
That life didn’t last forever. In fact, it really only spanned over the course of a year. When I returned to my tiny hometown, I resumed my previous identity. I shed a bit of the skin of B. It happened gradually enough that I did not immediately notice what was occurring. Soon, my life was once again one of anxiety and being a control freak. I find myself once again on the journey to acceptance. I want to learn to tap into that energy I felt in those forests without necessarily reverting back to that lifestyle. I’ve dipped my toe into yoga, meditation, tarot, witchcraft, etc. I’m in search of answers. I’m desperate to know who I am and where I’m going. Above all, I’m becoming B.
Charlotte
October 31, 2022 — 3:45 am
I just listened to your episode on “This Is Actually Happening”. Though I never-ever do this I feel the need to reach out. I want to tell you I feel for you and that you are very brave for telling your story and I hope the best for you. At the same time I think you need to recognize how truly, massively selfish you are. I recognize this because through your whole podcast you focused on you and your drama not once commenting on or showing remorse for what you did to the people in the other car. You did to them what you did to your mother and yourself and from how it sounded you don’t even consider that unless it’s on terms of how their death would have put you in a worse situation. I think you need to get off your selfish spiral and ask not what the world can do for you but what you can do for the world. Good luck and God bless
beryan282
October 31, 2022 — 12:49 pm
Thanks for reaching out and for your kind words. As for the rest of your message, all I can really say is this: It is certainly easy for me to forget how much my actions affected the couple in the other car. They remain, to this day, nameless and faceless. I don’t know what their lives were like before or after the wreck. All that I know is when I got to the hospital and a police officer entered the room I was in, I asked him immediately how the people in the other car were. His response was, “They walked away with minor scrapes and bruises.” While I have no idea who the people are, I think of them daily, especially when I am driving on two lane highways that remind me of the one I wrecked the car on. I sometimes imagine the oncoming lane coming into my own. I think about how the couple had not seen it coming. They had no time to prepare or react. Just as suddenly as mine and my mother’s life changed, so did theirs. You’re right in that I focused on me and my mother during the podcast. Because I know both of those people and I have an idea of how the wreck affected them. The people in the other car are big question marks. I will also say, that the episode you heard was close to an hour long. The original conversation I had with Whit was 4 hours. There was a lot that didn’t make the cut. I did talk a bit more in depth about the couple as well as a few other things. I hope you can remember when you listen to future episodes that you’re not always getting a complete picture. The way words are edited can change the entire dynamic of the story. Still, I thank you for reaching out because your comment really did make me think about how I perceive the other victims of my actions.
Linda
August 10, 2023 — 6:35 pm
I am flabbergasted by this mean, thoughtless comment. Bea – please recognize the ignorance in this comment. To the commenter: You made a lot of unfair assumptions and you also seem to be totally ignorant about how childhood trauma impacts a young persons psyche. I think Bea has accepted more than her fair share of responsibility. Can’t imagine how her mother’s defense and acceptance of her son molesting her daughter, of befriending him ., of continually placing her daughter in unsafe places, of knowing her daughter was raped etc and then acting like she’s doing her best and can’t understand – the effects of all this on Bea? And then Bea has to put up with your accusations? So good luck and God bless those coming into contact with you.
Linda
August 10, 2023 — 6:44 pm
I know that as you grow older you will come to understand how young you were when all this happened and you will realize that you were not the perpetrator. You called and called for help and your mother did not listen. She didn’t do her job. You were and are so young – the adults in your life totally let you down. If possible, set some boundaries with your mother – she’s a huge part of the problem. It took me a LONG time to understand my own trauma and realize that I wasn’t the one with the problem. I write in hopes that your journey will be shorter and you can leave the unwarranted guilt behind.