the last gasp.

Three years ago I had just started living my life in Houston. I bought a bunch of tickets to shows to see bands play on weeknights I wouldn’t have been able to make it to in my past life. I went alone to most of them and it was such a liberating thing to me.
I saw a guy play who used to sleep on my floor in college who now had a line waiting for him after the show to sign things for or shake hands with. [Alex Bhore/ This Will Destroy You] I went to one with my the girl who saved my life in the last one. [Mates of State] I went to see an album anniversary tour of one of my favorite albums and ended up standing next to a girl who would end up becoming my best friend here and, only recently learned, I was also standing behind a guy who would become a new one three years later. [Cursive]
They were all in the same room. The upstairs of this creaky old venue that has always been just a few blocks away from where I’ve lived in either direction.
The last one I saw there was exactly three years ago. This man with too much bravado singing unromantic love songs and swinging his hips to a packed room with no air conditioning in April in Texas. It was probably one of my all-time favorite shows and I’ll never forget it or the feeling I had walking down those old stairs and getting punched in the face by the first gasp of fresh air and the feeling that I was starting to live the life I really wanted for myself. [Father John Misty]
Three weeks ago, I was feeling the opposite. I was feeling suffocated with disappointment in everything. I had to get some fresh air. I started narrowing in on the things that were no longer serving me and digging out the things that always have. I was uninspired and tired and hopeless and numb and I had to get rid of it all.
A friend urged me to do things that really make me feel alive. To keep taking chances and feeling the rush of fear and pushing past it.
I started doing things like riding a bike in a dark room with loud music and a person screaming at me to push past it. I’d walk out into the light, soaked in sweat and pride in going beyond the limits I set for myself before walking in.
I bought tickets to any and every show that interested me. I just needed to see people who work hard to stay inspired and get in front of people night after night and give it away. Every single one of them was completely different. Most of them were unfamiliar in most ways to me. None of them were in the room I once went to to tap into this.
There was the guy from that big band who seemed happier to be playing in front of a couple hundred people instead of the thousands he was playing in front of just a few years ago. The crowd definitely came with anticipation they’d get a glimpse of the latter while I watched someone so happy to be doing what he wanted to do and now being able to see he was actually the reason his last life was so successful, not the other guys. [Rostam]
I saw a man who showed up in my life through so many different people I didn’t think I could miss him. A guy a dated once loved him. A friend saw him on the other side of the world and stood next to him. Another friend who only talks shit about music to me who also loved him. A girl who I met that one summer in LA and shares my name who has gone on to tour the wold with him. But, it was just me that night as he performed one of the tightest sets I’ve seen in a long time channeling the ghost of Leonard Cohen with his voice. [Kevin Morby]
The unexpected one was seeing probably the biggest rock star of my generation still looking like he was having the time of his life every second he stood in front of thousands of people for the millionth time. I let my guard down and had one of the best times of my life. I was standing next to that girl who complemented my necklace and asked if I liked whisky that one time and at the same time, we both let go of all of the baggage we collected in the last few years and weeks and days as the band went on to play for three more hours. [Foo Fighters]
I saw a group of 50-something ladies who were peak 90s darlings take the stage together like they were always meant to do. I was only there for this one song I can remember everything about the first time I heard it and not expecting to hear it that night. Until I did and all of the feelings of the first time came back and were replaced. Better. [The Breeders]
The next night I saw a band who were the local band in the college town of this guy I met just a day or two after walking down those stairs for the last time. They still had that energy and a lot less ego than a band who played on Ellen that afternoon probably would. It was the only time I’ve ever not seen that room packed and I was happy that I was there probably the last time that would happen for them. [Parquet Courts]
This month of getting my life back concluded with a weekend away in another Texas town I hadn’t been in in almost a decade with a group of girls I’ve been friends with for almost two now. In between the music, I was able to see myself for the first time in a long time. How much I really have changed (and so have they). Proud of the work that goes into maintaining friendships despite time and distance and the life that happens in the years since we stopped sharing the same walls.
I saw a quiet-looking girl from Australia roar and rip her way through probably the best and most unassuming set I’ve seen in a long time, if not ever. [Courtney Barnett]
And, then, when the sun went down, I saw that same guy from the sweat-soaked creaky upstairs closing out a weekend of music on a stage that was built to light him up. I ended up alone in a packed crowd watching FJM sing some of the same songs I saw three years earlier with new life weaved in-between them. This time I was surrounded by fresh air and under a moon that was full and supposed to give you the space to rid yourself of things that no longer serve you.
I don’t know if that’s what happened that night, but it’s definitely what happened last month. I stopped gasping for air and grasping at things that don’t seem to want to be in my life. I started letting go, but also really facing those things that had made my life not feel alive anymore. I really looked in the mirror. Evaluated the purpose people serve in my life and chose whether or not I want to accept that. I stayed open when I really wanted to shut off. Completely over living a lukewarm life and done being frustrated that nothing else was sparking the heat.
I felt and I feel more inspired again.
I don’t know if it was one person or the music or the racing heart or the start of a new season or just me noticing for the first time in a long time, but I’m getting to a place where I want to live my life in front of everyone just as much as I do one person.
And, maybe I did need that girl to scream, “I don’t know quite who I am, oh but man I am trying. I make mistakes until I get it right” in my face the other day.
I hear you.

Here's a playlist from my month:
the last gasp.

half-hearted.

I've been thinking a lot about the heart. We use it to describe so many things that are so important to us. It's responsible for keeping us alive and sometimes it feels like it's killing us.
I have a nephew who was born with only half of his. With that half, he has brought more fear, hope, tears, laughter and joy into my life than anyone ever will.
After about a four year break, we're preparing for his third heart surgery in the coming months. Something that has been looming at us as soon as the first two were far enough in the past. Since then we've gotten to meet this ferocious, larger than life child that sometimes just has to catch his breath to keep going. He has surpassed all dreams and suppressed almost all of our fears.
Until we finally got to see his heart a few weeks ago.
The pictures of it just weren't what we thought. He has complications we never really saw coming. It was a blow we hadn't braced for.
Only, I did. I had to. I watched as my sister took in the news, only slightly losing a bit of her posture and some of the color from her face. She stayed engaged and curious and I just watched everyone. The surgeons face as he explained the issues. Each person on the team behind him as their eyes darted to my sister to see how she was accepting what she just heard. Only using their eyes to really understand what I was hearing and not allowing myself for one second to show it.
After the room cleared, we cleared it. Packing up my nephew maybe a little bit more carefully than we would've before. They drove off to Louisiana, I drove to my side of town.
Just like before with his diagnosis I could not allow myself to be anything but positive even though no one was looking. I remember weeping in my bed at the news of what was to come. Knowing just how much I already loved my other nephew and not knowing if I would be able to bear the weight of what could come if I lost the second one. But, only to myself, never to my sister. I comforted myself by focusing on images of my nephews playing and growing and living life just as they should and I have been given a gift of seeing it all come true. Better than I dreamed.
The scary days in-between his birth and the recovery from his first two heart surgeries seem like they never even happened. The only reminder that his heart isn't as big as it should be come when he gives himself a quick time out or you notice that his lips, fingers and toes are just a little bit blue. They all can quickly be overlooked. The scar has faded.
I had forgotten until I couldn't anymore.
Aiden's story gets told as a story of hope and a couple weeks ago, a friend let me know she had heard it and she was thinking about us. I went back and relived his story through the pictures and facts of what all had happened and I came unglued.
The flood gates opened and there was no way for me to recover. All of the fear coming back, but now knowing what his face looks like, what his smile looks like, what his heartbeat feels like, what his laugh sounds like and debilitated by the fear that there could come a day I won't be able to see, hear or feel any of that.
My eyes were swollen. My chest was tight. My jaw was locked. My heart was broken.
I let it all just come out of me. Only to myself until my sister called and she knew better.
It was a release I had locked up so tightly and buried that I didn't realize until the knot came loose that I had numbed myself to life. I couldn't feel anything because I was putting everything into not feeling that. Protecting myself from it. Preventing myself from feeling it. Clinging on to hope so tightly my knuckles were white. I couldn't do it anymore and I shouldn't.
I let it all just come out of me. Only to myself until my sister called and she knew better.
She told me while his surgeon does know the anatomy of his heart, he doesn't know the spirit of it. The heart is so much bigger than its chambers, even if it's missing some. It's function keeps us alive, but it is also the innermost part of who we are. Both are what keeps us living and makes it worth taking that next breath.
Life sits on the cliff of fear and hope. It's constantly just teetering on the edge. Our hearts skip a beat no matter if we're overwhelmed or overjoyed. It keeps us fighting for more and sometimes holds us back from falling. It keeps beating and we keep going, and so will Aiden.
I can see it now.

mirrors.

There's been a lot of different versions of myself in the last three decades. There's been my best ones, my future ones, the not-so-good ones and the fuck, I hate myself ones. I've had to own them all. Eventally.
I've seen some new versions of myself through people in my life. I can’t say they’ve been the most flattering. I’ve tried looking at myself at a different angle or with different lighting or while sucking in, but I can’t unsee it and I guess I’m going to have to own her, too.
I seem to have forgotten that the people who have been around the longest saw the best version and know she’s still in there. Somewhere. And, that’s why they stick around. Waiting?
I’ve recently seen that maybe that patience is wearing thin and for good reason. How many times can we have the same conversations? How many times can they continue to be supportive as they see me repeat the same mistakes over and over and over? How much longer do they have to wait for their girl to come back? I don’t have the answers. Yet. But, I see it.
I also failed to realize that people who are getting to know me now don’t know that version. She hasn’t been around. I assume they still see the same things, but I’ve actually neglected to show them. I wonder if they think I’m full of shit when I talk about the things that I say matter to me, but they’ve never really seen the proof. I see that now, too.
I can look at myself in the same mirror I’ve taken around with me for the last 15 years and be ok enough with it to confidently step out thinking I know what I saw, but then I catch glimpses of myself in other ones and lie to myself that that one just isn’t right.
I was so sure that I’m a very self-aware person, but I saw myself for the first time in a long time a week ago and I can’t look away. And, I shouldn’t.
I’ve blamed so many other people or things for the way things have turned out, it’s been so startling to see that it was me that made it all happen. It’s me that lets it happen. It’s me sending the mixed singnals or not telling the whole truth or trying to make sure everyone as comfortable as I try to squeeze into whatever space they’ve left room for me. I’ve gotten so comfortable with being uncomfortable I didn’t even feel it anymore. I do now.
I’ve noticed all of the transformations and versions of the people closest to me for a long time now. They’ve had their best and worst, too. I probably wasn’t the most flattering mirror for them.
I swell up with pride that I’ve been given the opportunity to see them all. Now I catch glimpses of wrinkles settling in or grey hairs shining through. In the right light and at the right angle I see all of the things that put them there and all of the hopes I have for what’s to come for them as the signs of years lived continue to reveal themselves.
The other day as I was standing in front of my mirror preparing myself to face the world, someone made me laugh and smile and I caught a glimpse of it. What actual joy looks like on me now. Not the smile you stretch across your face when you’re told to. And, for the first time I saw the wrinkles that shoot out of my eyes when I really mean it and I was so proud of them. So happy to meet them. So grateful for the things that have happened to put them there. All the versions hidden in the corners of my eyes.
I see it now. I get it. I want to be more of her.

help i'm alive.

I don’t like scary movies. The thrill never finds me. I’m sitting there with popcorn in my lap fighting an anxiety attack and dreading the nightmares that will appear as soon as my eyes are closed for long enough as I’m holding my breath and clinching my body so I don’t jump when someone or something appears out of nowhere. So, I don’t watch them.

In my real life, I can conjure up plenty of scary stories of my own without even closing my eyes. Paranoid as I’m walking to my car at night (probably not entirely a bad thing). Being as still as I can in bed as I hear a sound on the other end of the house. Basically keep a running list of worst-case scenarios going at all times, sometimes breathing through a potential anxiety attack  and clinching my body to not be detected if something or someone appears out of nowhere. 

Paralyzed by the potential of something happening. Anything. And, how I will handle it.

A few days ago my defenses were dulled by a few too many drinks and I found myself cornered. Drilled by an endless onslaught of questions with no direct line connecting them and having to explain myself all while dark, brooding tones hummed in the background. I sank lower and lower into the couch that was my only hiding spot to not be seen and to try to not be heard.

I’m still not sure what was trying to be uncovered, but I’ve also never felt more seen when the interrogator relented momentarily by saying “So, you’re afraid of what you want the most.”

Fuck.

The air got sucked right out of me.

I spend so much time fearing the future and holding my breath in the present that I’m not actually making any movements, much less sudden ones. Paralyzed by an ever-growing list of imaginary “what-ifs” that actually would never even come close to killing me. 

I’ve stopped even imagining what the future would look like because I’m so scared of what won’t be there. I’ve started to make those things that I used to push so hard for secrets that I bury and fear anyone finding.

I stopped asking the questions I was scared of the answers to.I stopped putting myself in situations I wasn’t sure of the escape route. I’d gotten pretty good at making myself undetectable. 

And then, someone started digging.

I slipped up. I did all of those things. I’ve been found out. But, I’m still alive and maybe more so?

There’s really nowhere left to hide, and for the first time in a long time, I don't really see the point in it anyway. The thrills weren’t finding me.

There’s nothing scarier than doing nothing.I buried myself alive to prevent something else from killing me while allowing this overwhelming fear of failure or rejection or transparency or just being uncomfortable actually kill me.

What a plot twist.

There could be a cloud of dust following me as I walk my haggard ass out of this graveyard and step over the graves of all of the other bullshit I buried there. I’ll still be a little jumpy. I’ll definitely look over my shoulder a few too many times. Hold my breath as I wait for something to materialize. But, I’m not afraid anymore.

cupid shuffle.

I've had a headache and haven't been able to move my neck freely in three days. In those days, I've been disappointed. A lot. I've been replaying conversations in my throbbing head and questioning the expectation I set and if it was clear enough. It was. But, sometimes someone else's "good" isn't my good enough. That's disappointing. 

I've woken up each morning and had an in-depth pep talk with myself before having to shuffle my feet along the floor in order to not trip over my discarded clothes and shoes that I've stripped off as quickly as possible to get in my bed, my sanctuary, and faced each day with my head held as high as my neck will allow it to be. 

I'm not wallowing. I don't think so anyway. I'm just exhausted. By everything. I want all of the things, but it is so damn hard to have them all at once. 

I fought my gut with that guy I was telling you about. I said what I needed to say and then backed down because my heart told me to. I put it out there, for the first time, what I needed and expected and I knew that all of the things weren't being checked off, but I just kept backing down and telling myself "but, they could be." Sometimes they won't be and that's disappointing. 

A word that has been sticking out in my clouded head is "priority." It's such a critical thing. It takes time to earn the top spot and maybe you don't ever get there, but let's just get to the top of the list. It's like are you being squeezed in to a person's schedule or are things getting penciled around you. That's a big difference. 

Ultimately, I don't know how to trust myself. I'm not listening to myself. There have been so many times where I slam the brakes in order to avoid slamming in to something damaging, but then I just kept going. Swerve a little to the right. Pull over. Slow down. And, then just keep going. "Where are we going?" I'd ask myself as I continued. "Nowhere" was the answer. And, sometimes fast. 

My car literally broke down. Unable to accelerate to the speed I needed her to go. Fighting back every time I pushed. The battery died. The computer quit on me- literally no longer able to tell the engine how to keep going. How apropos? 

I've gotten my car back. My neck is moving a little more. My head is clearing. I'll keep going. But, I'll pay attention to the signs and understand when they're blurry, my brain hurts, my neck refuses to let me look in any direction but forward and I'm unable to accelerate in the direction I'm forcing myself to go it's just time to stop. I can get over disappointment. It's ok to wallow it in for a second. Shuffle your feet to make sure you don't fall, but damn put your life back together, sister. Ok? Ok. 

clear eyes

A few weeks ago I noticed my vision was a little off. I thought something was wrong with my iPhone screen. Maybe I wasn't wearing my glasses enough. Not getting enough sleep? Allergies? It was none of those things. It became potential for big, scary things and I was urged to actually seek legitimate help in figuring out what was going on. 

Turns out, it's fine. Or, it will be. It's another thing I've done to myself brought on by stress. 

What's interesting about that diagnosis, is that I haven't really felt stress lately. Not at levels I've experienced in the past. I had been managing things much better and have had a significantly healthier work/life balance than I've probably ever achieved. There were and are still things on that list that is almost always there of things I know I should start doing or taking better care of, but I was getting to them. 

But, also, I met someone. I met someone who was really challenging and kind and caring and who was making me start to feel things I hadn't felt in a long time. It was open and honest and refreshing. It was scary, too. While I have been opening myself up, this was the true test of my willingness to be vulnerable and, while he was patient, he was also assuring that he would be respectful of the process for me as I began to peel back layers and let him in. 

Until it was his turn to be vulnerable. And he shut down. You don't get to do that. 

This morning I woke up and I did my eye test I've come accustomed to doing where I check the vision in each eye (my left one is the problem) and see if there's been improvement. This morning it was the clearest it's been in those weeks. Actually everything kind of was. I was mad because I feared that my instincts would kick in and say "told you so! Told you we didn't want to put that guard down, but you made us and look what happened." And, OK, they did. But, I haven't started making a list of reinforcement supplies to make that wall stronger and more difficult, I kind of just want to keep it down for a minute. Let some air breeze through and finish clearing out what remains. I'm not mad that any of it happened. I'm not going to beat myself up over it, but I am glad that I'm seeing more clearly now. 

I'm seeing that with each new experience I have, I learn something new about myself. I'm learning what my non-negotiables are (and also aren't). I'm realizing what I deserve (and what I don't). Figuring out what needs to be communicated (and what shouldn't have to be). You can't really learn these things without letting your guard down and maybe even when your vision is crystal clear. It will be. Eventually.

her.

A while ago someone asked me why moving to Houston was so good for me. I was taking a swig of beer and without hesitation I said "because I don't know anyone here." It was probably the most honest answer I've ever given and absolutely true. Sure, I've loved discovering new places, meeting new people, being able to drive down the street on a Tuesday and see one of my favorite bands play, taking my exit off the freeway and seeing a huge city skyline smiling back at me, all of those things, too. But, mostly the answer I gave him. 

It's not that I don't know amazing people or miss them always, it's just that sometimes it's really difficult to evolve or allow yourself to be a little different or who you feel you really are when you're surrounded by people who have always "known" you. I didn't realize that's why I was struggling in Shreveport until I had the opportunity to just show up to people who don't know anything about me except for what I've shown them. And, it hasn't been a reinvented or edited version of myself, I've kept it real and it has been so freeing. 

It's a powerful place to be and I was the only one who was really holding myself back from being here. I've put so much pressure on myself to be so many things but myself that at times I've myself. In rediscovering who I really am, I've found that that's all I ever really needed to be. 

I turned 30 a few months ago and I was so ready to turn that corner. It felt like I earned a badge of honor to have made it through my 20s. I spent the eve of my new decade surrounded by some of the most important people from that time. I may have been a little scared to wake up the next day and be hit with a ton of "what am I doing with my life?" thoughts, but I didn't. I woke up next to one of those friends and walked downstairs to another. Nothing had changed and I didn't need it to. 

As I said good byes and headed back to my city, one of those friends said "I love how you bring people together." It's probably the best and biggest compliment I've been given in a long time. A few weeks earlier I said goodbye to a friend I made in my early 20s and as I reminisced with other old friends I realized I may never have known them if it weren't for him. Because he brought people together. 

In this last year of my 20s, in a new city, feeling my new found freedom to just be me and being brought back to life by not knowing anyone, if I learned anything through the losses and distance- it's that people are the most important. And my people have been there a long time and probably have always liked the real, unedited version the best anyway. So, I'll keep on being her wherever I go.