bekah brunstetter
Bekah Brunstetter I care deeply. About a lot of things. Like really, really deep. Ow
playwright in brooklyn, NY

Our baby lives in the Future

May 18th, 2019 by Bekah Brunstetter

Years ago I was hired to write a feature adaptation of The Secret, which means I’ve gotten to know and work with Rhonda Byrne, the kind and remarkable woman who wrote the book and lives the philosophy fully each day, which means a few days ago, I reached out to her with the question, how do I maintain positivity through all of this? And she counseled me for an hour, told me that I am an infinite being that she knows will be a Mom someday, and basically left me with this: Bekah, you already HAVE a baby. You need to live in this calm and peace, of already having it. And so I’m choosing to live in this feeling. Or at least, I’m going to try. And so this weekend, we are in Palm Springs for some self care (read: drinking and eating ourselves to death) but we already have a baby, it just lives in the Future, AND ITS FEMURS ARE GIANT, ITS FEMURS STRETCH FAR INTO ALL OF THE YEARS OF ITS GIANT LIFE. 💙

Posted in Uncategorized | No Comments »

Crying while Talking

May 16th, 2019 by Bekah Brunstetter

I AM FINE, I am moving, as they say, THROUGH the pain, never under or under, but — I’ve been doing a fair amount of Crying lately, a lot of it while Talking, and I HAVE SOME NOTES FOR MYSELF. When I try and talk while crying, my voice gets really high like a cartoon bell, like it’s being sucked back into my throat while I try and push the words out. The sadder the words make me, the higher my voice gets, and the further it disappears up my throat and out my ears, a raspy gummy bear begging not to be eaten. I want to cry while talking like they do on the TV.  Strong, composed, steady, a solid and controlled voice, with tears coming rhythmically one, two, three. I want to speak in full sentences while crying, I want to say profound things while crying, I want to win the SAG award for Crying While Talking, I want to keep talking through all of these tears.

Posted in a lot, the future, the making of babies, the worst, whining, women, words, YAY | No Comments »

When the lord sends a car through your Garage door

May 15th, 2019 by Bekah Brunstetter

Use it as an opportunity to get a sexy NEW garage door and then also make lemonade because He would not give you anything you couldn’t handle or at least FIX WITH THE INSURANCE 🖤

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Color Therapy (?)

May 13th, 2019 by Bekah Brunstetter

My shirt is yellow, THEREFORE,  I will have a good day and a positive outlook and my dreams will come true and the worst case scenarios will only play out in my mind and fertile unicorns will shit rainbows of optimism and fresh babies on my head (?)/ GOOD THING I AM NOT WEARING BLACK (?)

Posted in a lot, optimism, sucking, the future, the making of babies, the worst, what i am NOT wearing, what I'm wearing, whining | No Comments »

THIS IS MY BABY(?)

May 11th, 2019 by Bekah Brunstetter

Cracker is definitely a comfort during all of this fuckery.  We’re leaning on him more and more, by which I mean, trying to teach him how to Hug, by which I mean, picking him up and trying to wrap his arms around us and shouting at him ARMS OUT, CRACKER, ARMS OUT! Until he leaps from our arms and hides for hours someplace we can’t find him, then he forgets that it happened, slowly re-emerges, hungry and trusting, AND IT HAPPENS ALL OVER AGAIN. HE WILL LEARN TO HUG. HE WILL.

Posted in a lot, ha, how interesting, love, trying too hard, wanting, YAY | No Comments »

Path to Healing

May 9th, 2019 by Bekah Brunstetter

I can’t meditate for more than 3 minutes without getting distracted, and the few times I’ve done acupuncture I’ve just laid there watching the clock and wondering things like ‘Am I healing? Is it happening? What’re we doing right now?’  and last night after my D&C I had an entire bag of Haribo gummies and ice cream for dinner.  I am no Earth Mother or Mother of the Earth, I am not Zen or Chill, but RIGHT NOW I WILL USE THE WORDS ‘PATH TO HEALING,’ and boldly declare that going wide with our fertility struggles has comforted me beyond my greatest expectations. Last night, Haribo gummy cherries hanging out of my mouth, I read hundreds of messages received from friends and strangers, bold and honest messages about fertility struggles and successes. AND IT HAS GIVEN ME LIFE. Thank you to all who share and continue to share. Here was mine:

Last weekend, we had our second miscarriage. I know I’m supposed to tuck this away, share with just close family and friends, compartmentalize and get back to work, which I’ve done before. But this time, I’m sharing here to challenge any and all notions that getting pregnant is CHARMING AND ADORABLE AND JOYFUL AND WHIMSICAL, and only these. For us, and for so many other women and couples, it has been a nightmare. It’s long and stressful and expensive and painful and terrifying. I’ve met parts of myself I never knew, gross bits of rage and frustration and jealousy and sadness. My hope and faith have withered. But I’ve also been so moved by the women who have opened up to me about the absurdity and sometimes hilarity of their own losses and journeys. And I want to do anything I can to help remove any of guilt and shame that comes with this horrible yet INCREDIBLY REGULAR thing / 20 PERCENT OF PREGNANCIES END IN MISCARRIAGE / GRIEVING PEOPLE ARE ALL AROUND YOU / HI, I AM ONE OF THEM. I also share this here because I’m longing for any personal stories, things like I had five miscarriages and now my toddler keeps grabbing my phone out of my hand! And / or my uterus is made of construction paper and now it’s full of twins! Or even, I am going through this fucking bullshit too, would you like to get together and throw bottles of wine against a wall? Feel free to DM me. I’m grateful for anything anyone feels like sharing, but mostly grateful for Morrison, who is the most completely amazing partner that has ever lived.

Posted in a dream is a wish your heart makes, a lot, babies, sucking, the future, the making of babies, the whole world, the worst, wanting, what my friends are doing, women, words, worrying | No Comments »

next to Him

May 8th, 2019 by Bekah Brunstetter

We are going through some real fucking bullshit right now, like depths of sad marriage testing bullshit, bullshit that I will most likely expound upon later, bullshit that you can probably guess,  but for now I will just say: I LOVE THIS PERSON MORE THAN EVER, so much so that all I want to do is sit next to him and watch him play video games. I want to listen to him breathe while he sleeps and watch him eat food. Basically, he is the only Answer. AND I’M NOT EVEN TALKING ABOUT CRACKER.

Posted in a lot, boys, love, MAWWAGE. | No Comments »

REWRITE

May 6th, 2019 by Bekah Brunstetter

SUGGESTED AMENDMENT TO THIS ANTHEM OF EMPOWERMENT THAT KEEPS CIRCLING MY HEAD:

WHAT DOESN’T KILL YOU MAKES YOU FEEL DEAD.

It’s like technically, you’re alive, but basically, you’re dead. Are you stronger? Maybe. But are you alive enough to act on or appreciate the strength? NOT REALLY / NOT YET. MAYBE TAKE A FEW DAYS TO BE DEAD.

Posted in a lot, the worst, worrying | No Comments »

WOMEN ON WOMEN

May 3rd, 2019 by Bekah Brunstetter

 

Watched this incredibly inspiring Netflix doc last night, on women across the country running super grassroots campaigns in the 2018 Democratic Primary; was beyond moved by the simultaneous vulnerability and strength of each of the women; THIS BALANCE IS WHAT MAKES WOMEN SO AMAZING, WE NEED MORE WOMEN IN POLITICS BUT OH WAIT IS THAT ALEXANDRIA OCASIO CORTEZ’S BOYFRIEND?! 

OMG WHO IS HER BF HOW DID THEY MEET WHAT IS THAT DRESS WHO IS POLITICS

Posted in a lot, DRESSES!!!!!!!!!!!!, generally, ha, hmmmmm, politics, women, YAY | No Comments »

how to know you married the right person

May 1st, 2019 by Bekah Brunstetter

Yesterday, a Shade guy and his two sons came by to take measurements for some outdoor shades, and as he pulled (barreled?) into our driveway, his brakes failed, and he rammed my car into the garage, taking out one of Morrison’s sideview mirror en route. I was in our bedroom, above the garage,  and the sound can only be described as ENTIRE WORLD GOING THROUGH TRASH COMPACTOR. Morrison runs outside, sees my car like so:

And I hear him through the window, the first thing he says: Are you guys okay? Because he knows what we both know: Cars can be fixed. Garage doors can be fixed. People cannot always be fixed. People > Cars. Morrison > Most people.

Posted in a lot, love, MAWWAGE., oh nooo, the whole world, things, things that I Have | No Comments »

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