believe it or not, but I…
used to hate the rain.
I found it hard to even type that.
Now, before you come at me with your “What the heck Rebecca? How do you hate the rain?”
Just hear me out.
Look at that word usage, “used to” meaning I thankfully don’t hate it anymore.
But my relationship with the rain has been a hate and now love one.
And the best loves are the ones you hate at first, right? (No one ever said that don’t quote me lol. In this kind of situation, it’s true. In others, get the hell out.)
Why did I use to hate the rain?
I was a kid. I think that’s a solid argument.
What do kids want to do most of the time? Play.
Of course, I wanted to play outside, not sulk inside because of the rain.
The rain ruined my happiness. Plus, the appearance. It was always gloomy and brought my mood down.
I even remember this one time, as a preteen, when my friends had this group text conversation. Two of my friends loved the rain and I was just like “Wait… what? Noooo the rain is crap! I want to go outside, it’s ruining my plans.” (I was in seventh grade, please don’t blame me)
But yes, there was an actual time when the rain was my enemy. I mean I wouldn’t say, an enemy it wasn’t the spawn of the devil… I just didn’t like it. It wasn’t my favorite.
Then a few years pass and I start going through hormones (ew puberty) and emotions. I’m no longer a child. And all the dark thoughts and emotions start coming in.
I still don’t like the rain but I don’t hate it either… does that make sense? It was like my feelings were now nearing the middle of the “hate” and “love” spectrum, maybe even inching close to love?
But the rain wasn’t my best friend. Whenever it rained and I already felt down inside it was like an extra reason as to feel crappy. Like the world needed to remind me that I felt like crap inside. It brought me more pain.
Then, recently, a guy came along. And yes, this is the recent guy I always talk about. But this post isn’t about him so I won’t say his pseudonym but my involvement with that whole thing does relate to rain.
He brought the rain for me. He was the rain to me. He brought me to tears and gave me pain.
I remember when I stopped talking to him for two weeks and it rained a majority of those two weeks (it was April showers season, but I still think it’s a sign).
Those two weeks are how I came to love rain, like really love it. When I got a love for photography my freshman year I saw rain as beautiful and pretty but the two weeks the guy broke my heart, I truly loved rain.
I started loving it because it connected with me.
Yes, I felt like crap inside but the rain wasn’t really “making fun” of it, like I used to see rain as doing to my pain before.
No, it’s like the rain was with me. It’s pain was shared with mine. The world cried and I cried and I don’t know call me weird… but it’s like the world was sharing in my pain. Whenever it rained, I felt okay. Why? Because the world was sad too.
It felt okay for me to feel sad and to cry because the world was too.
Now, the rain is like my best friend. It calms the storm in me… no matter how ironic that might be.
It makes the pain and heartbreak okay for some reason. The way it looks… and sounds… just makes life feel okay for a moment.
And I no longer relate rain to sadness. Because it’s not true anymore. Rain isn’t sadness. It’s happiness. It’s serenity. It’s calmness.
It’s the feeling that even through all the pain and the tears, everything is gonna be okay. Sometimes the tears just have to flow and you need to let it all out.