Goodbye, and thanks for all the Fish Sticks and Custard.

Matt Smith is leaving Doctor Who.

Old news, right?

I know that being a Doctor Who fan comes with the unique challenge of accepting change, despite the fact that Whovians are ironically terrible at accepting change. The only thing worse than losing a Companion is losing the Doctor. Your favorite Doctor. Your fucking role model and soul mate, and the despite the fact he doesn't exist and you have a real life husband, is the ONLY PERSON YOU WILL EVER REALLY HONESTLY TRULY LOVE.

I joke about Eleven being my soul mate A LOT. Like, on an unhealthy level of muchness. But, it's true... being my soul mate, I mean. If you don't believe me, here is evidence in writing. http://primaimperatrix.blogspot.com/2011/10/river-song-must-be-capricorn.html. So, why, as the hours tick away, eeking closer to the moments when I will discover the new identity of the Doctor, do I love him so much? Why am I putting myself through an emotional black hole? Well, thanks to therapy, I can explain to you why.

I was a weird kid.

Like, really fucking weird.

Not in the way that all kids are weird, but in the way that you take bets on whether or not I was going to be a functioning adult, or end up in an institution hearing voices-- SPOILER ALERT: Neither so far. I realize now, people never knew what to do with me, what to make of me. My family, my teachers, my friends-- every one just decided rather than to try and sort it out, they would just get out of my way and let me do my thing. That's great, but fuck, that was lonely. I was just this precocious, curious kid who made people feel uncomfortable, so eventually they decided to sort it out by repressing me. 

Stop asking questions, Bekki. Stop talking, Bekki. Sit still, Bekki. Stop doodling, Bekki. Stop playing, Bekki. Don't run off, Bekki. Focus, Bekki. Grow up, Bekki. Be serious, Bekki. Don't be naive, Bekki. Stop being radical, Bekki. Accept your limitations, Bekki. Stop dreaming, Bekki. Calm down, Bekki, and just relax.

 I guess it was a lot easier to make the weirdness stop than to spend energy on trying to understand it. 

All I have ever wanted is to try everything-- taste exotic foods, jump out of planes, get lost in a place I don't speak the language and make a friend in the process, immerse myself in a foreign culture, sleep under the stars in the middle of nowhere, see something rare and magnificent that few to no others ever have or will... and that is just page one. That is my ONE wish-- try everything, see everything, experience everything, feel everything. 

Basically, I have wanted to run away my entire life. Why stay? I don't fit in here. I make everyone uncomfortable. I waste my and others time and energy trying to explain myself. I'll just leave. I'll find some place I belong, or maybe I don't belong any one place, so I will just keep moving. I have always been on my own anyway, so doesn't matter if I do this myself too. But, I don't have the means to do any of that, do I? So I'm just kind of here, being a professional weird person.

I can't be too melodramatic-- there were people that I found along the way-- Wyatt, Dankoski, Doc, Greg, Jess, Linda, my Braintrust. They encouraged me to embrace my talents, convincing me that I was dynamic and clever and important and loved without strings attached. They praised me so much, and could never figure out why I was so pessimistic and hard on myself. But, I was so broken by then, I could hardly believe anyone could genuinely believe in me.

Being a nerd kind of fixed that. I think Science Fiction saved my life on several occasions, because having some place that was not here to go was awesome and a huge relief. Books, comics, movies, shows, fanfiction, all of it-- it took me to a place where weird was a prerequisite and a commodity. Being clever and brave and curious could save lives. Having an innate feeling of importance and duty was not strange in Science Fiction-- that's what made you the protagonist. I lost myself, a lot, and I got to the point where I did not care if I came back. Living in my own head was a million times better than living in the real world, so I lived in my head and I vacationed in the real world, like for paychecks and bills and required, expected adultness.

So, when a girl like me finds a show like Doctor Who, you feel incredibly cheated that everything you ever wanted and thought important is fiction, and it's just not fucking fair. At first I wanted to be a companion, but then I realized they get lost or left behind. Then, I realized what I really wanted was to be the Doctor. A cosmic nine year old with a box that could take you anywhere in the universe? A person who felt so outcast that he ran away... Yeah, I could relate to that. A person who was feared, loved, or respected everywhere but his own home, but the loneliest being in the universe. No one ever stays. People just float in and out of his life, and he keeps traveling on his journey. Just a boy, and his box.

That's what my life started to feel like. Just a girl, and her imagination. In the end, it was always just me and my head universe, getting through the day, alone.

I was designed to love a character like the Doctor, but there is just something about Eleven. The hazel eyes, the floppy hair, the facial expressions, the frantic nervous gestures, the unrestrained curiosity and enthusiasm, the loyalty and protectiveness he has for his traveling family, his self sacrificing bravery, his steadfastness, his darkness, his cleverness, his sarcasm. He's the manifestation of everything I want to be and the life I want to have, even if it is fiction. I have always believed that your true love would be the person that you are equal with, a real partner, so who else was I going to fall madly in love with? My husband? Right.

Boil us down, fiction or real, we're essentially the same person. Look at how loved and accepted the Doctor is-- look at how much loss people feel that he will be gone. My entire life I was made to feel unaccepted as I was, and here is someone just like me, loved by millions. That is so affirming and validating.

When I say that the Christmas Special is going to be the worst day ever, I am deathly serious. Think of the person you love most in the world-- how much do they mean for you? How much have they done for you? Now imagine watching them dying. Now, times that by infinity. That is how I am going to feel watching Eleven regenerate.

Let the teasing commence... I expect nothing less.

I dearly miss you already, Eleven, but River taught me that  if you truly love someone, you say goodbye like they're coming back.

See you around, Eleven.