According to a study conducted by the BBC, there were no babies born by the name of Rebecca, in England, in the year 2018 – how crazy is that? Not a single one – or at least, not enough to be recorded thanks to confidentiality. With that fact out of the way, hello. I am a Rebecca – well, Becca.

 

My life is full of ironies:

 

I love the violin and piano, but I can’t play either.

Reciting poetry and telling stories is one of my favourite things, but I have stage fright.

I love hard, fully and completely, but I am a widow.

 

You see, no Rebecca babies were born in 2018 – but this Rebecca was reborn, somewhat, that year. I got married to a wonderfully imperfect man called Daniel. He had incomplete tattoos, empty piercing holes and a face that looked as though he should have been a member of the Peaky Blinders – to me, all his imperfections were exactly what lead me to love him – that and his curious, conflicting mind. Unfortunately, cancer took his life later in 2018.

 

I have since struggled with my identity and frequently questioned who I am. I often felt as though I had to personify grief online and share it as much as I could; grief is, after all, a massive part of my identity, or so I thought. Grief is something I cherish, in a strange way. It ignites my curiosity, feeds my creativity and tempts my bravery. But, is grief really an ‘identity’?

 

So, that question remains: “who am I?”

 

Well, instead of living my life wondering about the answer to this question, I have decided to live with the intent of finding the answer to this question instead. There is so much to learn, so much to see and so much to do in this world and, although it seems like none of us have enough time, it is what we do with this time that is important.

 

I am a writer with a broken heart. But, not in the sense you might think. My heart is broken, but cracks allow for more space. I am living with intent now, more than I ever have and with this new found space I will fill it with what I love; writing, reading, traveling, painting, finding meaning, listening to the damned violin and maybe even learning to play it one day.

 

My identity is creative, curious and ever-changing. I hope you find comfort in my words.

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