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. 

baggage check.

It's official. I've been living in Houston for a year. I celebrated by purging things out of the hidden places in my tiny apartment. Baggage. Literal baggage. It felt really good to get it all out of my way because it very much was in my way. I'll continue to hold on to those band shirts from high school, but all of the other things- girl, bye. Shoes and clothes that I never seemed to really like, but kept around "just in case." In case of what? Not sure there's ever an occasion that calls for ill fitting clothes and painful shoes. 

Which brought me to the other type of baggage. The shit I have stored in the corners of my heart and mind. I've cleared through quite a bit of that in the last year, too. There's no event in life where I will RSVP and think "oh, yeah! I still have that memory of this time or I can dust off that buried relationship for my +1." The good stuff can stay, like those t-shirts from high school. But, only as reminders of a special time that felt really good and made a piece of who I am today. 

Moving here is definitely on my "best decision I've ever made list." I've made some decisions to run away from things in the past, but I definitely made this one to run to something in the future. I unknowingly brought a ton of shit with me and as I realized in my closet, I really just don't have room in my life for some of the things I felt like I didn't have a choice but to hang on to. I haven't needed any of those things in the last year. I've made room for new things and left space for special things that I will find along the way. 

I've both changed and stayed the same and that's kind of a cool thing to realize as I approach 30. I've been so many different people in the last 3 decades. With each transformation, a few things remain the same. A few weeks ago, I went to see one of the bands that's on one of those shirts I've been hanging on to. With my oldest friend. We high-fived the hell out of our 15-year-old selves and talked about our almost 30-year-old selves. After that I went to New York, a place I've always wanted to go, but until I was there didn't really realize I was scared of because I thought I might be hit with the reality of a possible self I imagined so long ago. Living in that city and being a writer. That thought hit me as we were swerving recklessly through traffic in the city. I immediately realized it wasn't the place for me and I let go of the "what if" baggage I had been carrying around unknowingly for the last 10 years and just experienced the city without imagining myself living in it anymore. It was like forgiveness. 

We carry so many things around for so long, often unknowingly. I went to get a massage and during the consultation, this angel of a man asked me if he could help my body forget its traumas. "Sure! You can try! Good luck!" was my response. He sensed things all over my body I had long forgotten about like sprained ankles and as he worked through it he would have me touch that part of my body and whisper "let go" in my ear. When we were done, I asked him about his process. For example, if someone else would have been there, would he have had them touch that place and he said no "it has to come from you. You have to be part of the healing." It was powerful to say the least. Kind of magical. 

Without going through the nitty gritty details of the ups and downs (because they've been extreme) of the last year, if I had to put a word on the change that has occurred in me I guess it would be "confidence." The confidence to just show up and be who I am to all of these people who don't know me. The confidence to know what's right and what's not for me. To know what I have room for in my life (or apartment) and what I don't. To know what I do and don't want or need and be ok with saying it and moving on. It's like freedom and I haven't had to ask myself for forgiveness in a long time. I've had to put my hands of my life and heal myself. Let go of the past. 

There are things I miss undoubtedly, just like I know there's something in those bags that I didn't mean to get rid of, but the good stuff always finds its way back. The best stuff never leaves. I'm pretty confident about that. 

the sting.

I just got back from vacation. Like all vacations it was much needed. I was burnt out in basically all aspects of my life. Absolutely in a what-does-it-all-mean spiral. (Hey, Saturn.)

The beach is my happy place. As soon as my toes touch sand, my eyes see an endless expanse of water and my body is submerged in it, everything goes away. For a moment. 

My only goals were to get a killer tan, work on a stack of books and reconnect with my family I've spent the least amount of time with this last year than I have in my entire life. I did all of those things, but putting my life in a sudden halt made me slow down enough to process all of the things I've been questioning. 

When we arrived, a girl hopped on the elevator with us and my dad asked "how's the water?" And she said it's the best it's been all week. The jellyfish are gone. Awesome.

Only they weren't. Not really. It didn't stop me from getting in the water. My dad would be on "jelly watch," but somehow every day I managed to get stung. Just me. No one else. They we're babies so it was just enough to piss you off. An annoying burn that would last about an hour. 

That same week, a friend of mine got mysteriously stung by a wasp in her sleep. I've begun calling her my "spirit guide" because she seems to be the only one who can sometimes actually answer "what it all means" turns out her sting was meant to wake her up, not just literally, to some things that she needs to address in her life and she let me know that those little pinkish, purple creatures floating around me were doing the same thing. 

Apparently the jelly fish is supposed to remind us to live a balanced life, to allow the currents to take you toward your goals (jelly fish can't really move on their own and rely on the water to take them where they need to go for, like, food), but also since they are transparent they represent vulnerability. 

"You are being asked to allow yourself to shine from within. Allow those around you to see who you really are and reach out to them with love and affection. There is no need to feel vulnerable when you come from the heart because the heart knows that love is the power and strength from which we all grow. Trusting your heart and its guidance is key for you right now so go with the flow!"

Did you see that word in there? Vulnerability? Y'all know that stings me worse than the jelly fish.

Those temporary surface stings took my mind off an internal one I had been trying to ignore for about a month. The sting of loss. I hadn't felt it in so long I didn't know how to get rid of it. 

Last week, I really focused on it and took pride in that burn. The fact that I was feeling it, proved that I allowed myself to be vulnerable. Just like I did going out into the water even when I knew that it was going to hurt me. I would very cautiously approach, keeping a close eye out for jellies, but it never failed, as soon as I let go to just enjoy and carelessly float and let the waves carry me, the sting was there. Here's the thing, it never hurt bad enough for me to run out of the water. It was always worth the risk. 

Now that I'm back in the city and back to reality, there's a different type of gooey creature floating around in my life. I could avoid them by keeping a safe distance or taking very calculated steps in life, that's how I've spent the last few years until recently. Or I could just dive in and accept the risk that something might sting me as I go with the flow in a very vulnerable, transparent way. The sting fades, but the exhilarating feeling of floating freely and openly never really does. 

take these rings.

15 years ago, I remember buying "Return of Saturn" by No Doubt, for some reason vividly. I was 14 years old and Gwen Stefani had already solidified herself as the coolest girl ever in my book. At that time, she flaunted braces like a fashionable accessory and had bright pink hair. That album was quite a departure for No Doubt at that time and that still holds true just as it's still my favorite of the band then and now. 

It turns out, it didn't really make sense for a reason. That album was named after an astrological occurrence that is essentially a right of passage in to adulthood. It's a series of tests and challenges a person faces in the last gasps of your twenties as Saturn returns to the exact place it was in at the time you were born. (Just google it, ok?) Now, I don't know what I believe about astrology and all of the intricacies that come along with it. I do know that I love it when my horoscope is dead on and, sometimes, hold out for hope when it says some things I'm feeling a little helpless about. The Saturn Return was one of those things. It usually hits you around 27-29 (Gwen was 30 when that album came out FYI) and it is a very what-does-it-all-mean moment. Apparently, Saturn was all up in my shit from October 2012- December 2014 and she, basically, forced me to face a lot of things I hadn't dealt with. But, also, I think that comes with late 20s-staring-30-in-the-face territory. But, if I can blame Saturn, I'm gonna. 

During that time, I took control of a lot of things in my life I never felt I had control of. I was actually happier than I had been in a long time. I started questioning where I was at in my life and where I needed to go. I realized I needed a big change (I moved in September of 2014 btw). I questioned a lot of things and got a lot of answers-the good and bad ones. The end was very rocky. (I moved in September btw) I was really, really challenged and tested and I doubted and feared more than I had in a long time, possibly maybe ever. 

Once she got out of my way, a lot of things did become clearer. I started doing a lot of things I was too scared to do before. I learned a lot in that two year span and I was confident through those lessons. I was ready to learn more. 

Almost 10 years ago, another life changing album came out. The Yeah Yeah Yeahs "Show Your Bones." It hit me like a ton of bricks at a time I was already in pieces. I was 21 and had just experienced the ugliness that is first love lost. Karen O was 28. Just like "Return of Saturn," that album was kind of a time out for the band. Totally different stylistically, lyrically and so real. 

When I look at my friends lives, I can see that happening for them, too. There was most definitely a dark period the last couple of years, but everyone kind of quietly fought through it and all of the sudden are doing some really amazing things like creating really good music, going after their careers with passion, making big decisions about life and love, making babies and being really good at the whole parenting thing. It's been really inspiring to watch it all unfold. Everyone's waking up and living and doing it well.  Welcome to adulthood everyone. We made it. I still haven't decided if I should genuinely or sarcastically thank Saturn here. Maybe a little of both? 

So, apparently, Saturn is checking in on me again. Remember how I said I sometimes check in on my horoscope for hope? Well, some of those uneasy feelings have crept back in. I feel like I'm failing at absolutely everything. There's like a slow crumble of things happening around me literally right after things started lining up pretty well. Sleepless nights. Stress zits. Dark circles ("the magic's in the makeup, right?). She's only supposed to hang out with me a couple of months this time. Kind of like a check up to make sure I've really got my shit together. Right now, I don't feel like I'm passing the test and she's all like "girl, you already took it. Get it together and just answer the questions."

There's a part of me that's excited for the challenge. When that two year period ended, I felt relief and power in my life again. I do believe that challenges and set backs are always there for a test of will and all of this Saturn business is really no different. However, I should be facing them differently. I should be a little more strategic after a little more experience. Currently, I'm going back to my old ways, but I'm realizing a lot quicker that they don't work. Trying something different can be scary. But, isn't everything worth doing a little scary at first? 

I'm really coming to terms with the fact that I'll be moving into a new decade in just a few months (ok, 5). I'm making a mental list of things I haven't done and want to before I turn 30. It's coming together nicely and I'm excited to send off my 20s in a really powerful way. (It just so happens that I'll be flying to New York the day Saturn leaves me and won't be returning for another almost 30 years.)

For now, I'll get back to the test and I know I'll pass it. Gwen and Karen were really good teachers. On my better days, I feel like a bad ass ( thank God I got braces out of the way first), some days, even when I feel small, I feel like a warrior.  Whether it's really Saturn or just life, I don't know. Does it matter? Let's do this shit, ok?

the zone.

I've mentioned my comfort zone, bubble, nest, lair, etc. a lot. I get trapped in it often. I've gotten out of it a lot more recently, you probably know the story by now. 

But, what you may not know, is that a friend told me I am "the comfort zone" for dudes, too. When she said it, I did what most people do when you're told a truth about yourself you didn't realize- try to deny it, but it lasted about 5 seconds as I could not find a single reason it wasn't true. 

I'm the girl that's there in-between girls. It's happened so many times the last few years it's uncomfortable. I'm the one they text message about anything and everything. I'm down to hang out. I'll go to lunch, happy hour, late night and an assortment of events. We'll have a really good time and it'll be so easy. We're just friends. I'm a "cool" girl. It's comfortable. 

I'll wonder if it means something more even when I know it's not. I'll spiral. He'll let me. I answer. I show up. 

And, then the new girl shows up. And I slow fade into nothingness. And I'll have all the answers. 

Except this one: Why?

Why do you want me around when no one else is, but as soon as she shows up- no more? I have plenty of guy friends. Lots of them. I'm still the cool girl to them, only I can be the cool girl around their girlfriends, too. I know boundaries. Respect relationships. I understand scales tip and space is needed. I'll be friends with her- especially if she's cool. 

But, when I go from being "the comfort zone" to "no zone" I feel like you're telling me I wasn't crazy for those questions and that spiral. 

This is not a rant. I'm not mad about it. I built the comfort zones, both of them, this one I had a little bit of help with. For me, it comes from a genuine desire to reconnect or just connect in genral and I feel that's true on the other side, too. It's just the fact that our story begins with an ending for them and ends with a beginning for them. And, it's a series. 

I like that I'm someone people feel like "home" around. A safe place. Or whatever it is that draws them here. I think that quality will be something that a really great relationship builds from. I don't need over-the-top. It freaks me out. You don't have to wine and dine me. Though I like to do both. I like being the first and last person you talk to. I like just hanging out. I like adventurous nights out. I love cozy nights in. I like being available. Because I often feel unavailable due to an irregular work schedule. I won't act like I need you, but I want to need you. I like to be comfortable, too. 

The thing is, I'm not comfortable with the "comfort zone" anymore. (Either one, really.) I find myself holding back and feeling kind of trapped. I don't ask questions I want to know the answers to. I get them eventually, usually non-verbally (sometimes literally that way), but why do I sit and wait and allow for that shot to be called? I wonder what this or that means because typically those things mean more, but we allow them not to. I allow them not to. 

Is it because I'm too comfortable? Because I don't ask for the things I want or need? I'm fiercely loyal. I'm there when I need to be and want to be. I'm passionate about the the things I care about and that includes people. 

History does repeat itself. I hate when a really good book is over and hope that there's more to the story to come. I guess I just need to work more on making sure we're on the same page and if we're not- it's time to do some editing. 

We're about to get really uncomfortable, y'all. 

it's time.

I'm 29.

That number feels like so many things. At first, old. Not like it's all downhill from here old. Just like...damn, I've got a solid chunk of life behind me old. The milestones that are so easily measurable are mostly behind me. There is a ticking that I start to hear when I think of the few benchmarks left on the path and an anxiousness that does often wash over me as I wonder when I'll pass them, too. Those aren't as easy to measure. There isn't a specific age a person gets married or has children or reaches the top of their career (even though it kind of feels like it sometimes). 

Those same things also make me feel young. There's so much life left to live. So many more things to see and do and be. I feel a sense of urgency from this. Not necessarily that time is running out, but that I've got to get out and see and do and become. 

That's kind of the scary part of late 20s-early 30s. We just finished all of these things that we were supposed to do and we often finished them on the timeline we were supposed to and then what? The guide rails come off. The knot comes loose. You just find your way? By yourself? Ok. 

I've been living my life a little differently recently. Opening myself up to new people and things and thoughts and influences. I'm learning a lot. It's good. Great really. Scary sometimes. Uncomfortable often. 

Recently when I've started feeling that anxiousness from the ticking and my restless leg gets going, I've felt a different space of time closing. The window could be closing on the time that I have when I can really make decisions for myself with little to no impact on others. I can go and do and be whoever and whatever I want without turning someone else upside down with my movements and decisions. I don't know for sure, but it could be.  

I've been watching Anthony Bourdain travel the world the last few days. He beautifully and honestly (sometimes heartbreakingly) captures every place he visits through the people the place and, of course, the food. It's left me hungry. For the world. For these experiences. For a bigger life. There's so much left to see. Why am I not trying to see it? When will I stop living vicariously through others from the comfort of my own little nest? When do the excuses run out? This, too, makes me feel old and young at the same time. So much life left to live and yet I'm choosing to not live it? 

There's real people influencing this, too. First, my one-year-old nephew. He's got half a heart, but he doesn't know that. He lives joyously. It kind of scares me. He's experiences bigger challenges and more pain than I ever have and is the wiser of us both. Even though he can't communicate like I'm able to, he seems to have figured out that the worst is mostly behind him and he's going to live for today. And happily. We were told before we even met him that his timeline is uncertain. It feels like a curse, but maybe in many ways it's more of a blessing. No one is promised a certain amount of time, but it's how we live in the time we do have, which is now, that is the most important. 

Another is a customer who comes in my store weekly. She comes in with a beaming smile and a laugh that makes my day. She's bound by a wheelchair and muscles that just don't seem to let her live freely and yet she does. She makes jokes and we pick out her favorites for herself and gifts for other people. We make sure not to choose fragrances that are too similar for her father and her boyfriend because that's weird. We have fun. The first time this happened, I wasn't feeling so good about the life I was leading. I was constantly counting the things that my life was missing and feeling kind of hopeless about it all. I was just doing my job that day. After she left, I had to choke back tears. Not because I felt sorry for her, but for myself. And, I was angry. Here she was full of life and she's been given a fraction of the ability to live it that I have. Shame on me. 

The other one is someone who is challenging me intellectually and often emotionally and has kind of woken me up to how asleep I've been. I haven't been paying attention to things that matter . I haven't been learning new things outside of myself. We have a lot of the same interests and thoughts about many things. It just feels like I put a check next to them and moved on and he's continued digging deep and finding new levels of understanding. His check marks are made of pencil. I listen to him talk about things with genuine interest as sparks start to go off in my brain. It's like seeing the sunlight through your eyelids in the morning. I want to care about bigger things. And learn new things. Change my mind and open it up, too. Why did I stop? I used to be a seeker of knowledge, of new truths, beliefs and ideas. I don't know what it all means. I don't know if I ever will. But, I could try a little harder to figure it out. 

I've got time. I don't know how much. I've been given 29 years. Approximately 11,000 days, yall. I've wasted a good many of them. I had time yesterday and I've got it today. So, while I may not be getting any younger, I'm still young in so many other ways. And, you know, it's time that I become many things, but let's just start with growing a little older and start doing some real shit. 

I'm 29, after all. 

don't worry.

"There's blood in my mouth 'cause I've been biting my tongue all week."

There was a period of time when I felt I was entitled to share my thoughts and opinions on everyone and everything. It wasn't always nice. It was always coming from a good place. It could've been executed a little bit better. 

It was so easy for me to just say it because it couldn't really hurt me. I realized after I put it out there, it may have stung a little (or a lot). The truth doesn't always have to hurt, but it doesn't make it easier to hear it or ask for it for that matter. Asking for it? That can be scary. 

I've shut up since then. 

So, yeah, I've been opening up. Working on that vulnerability. Navigating some uncharted waters. Got a little bit of a blind fold thing going on. I'm getting a little scared, y'all. 

There are questions and thoughts churning in my brain that I both want and don't want to know the answers to. I can turn it off, be in the moment, live a little. But, when the silence comes, they come back. 

I guess I'm not as open or vulnerable as I thought I was. I've gotten a little too good at the "oh, it's cool" vibe even when maybe it's really not. Maybe I'm freaking out a little? It is cool, but it would be a lot cooler if it was a little clearer. I'm realizing that can make it complicated for anyone who may want to help out with the navigation process. 

We should be careful for what we ask for, but maybe we should ask for it anyway?

Maybe I want to split myself wide open and let it all pour out. There's so many things I want to say and feel and experience and live. So many. Maybe I just need someone to start the incision just a little? There may be a little scar tissue I need help getting through, but I promise I'll do the rest. I want to. 

That spot where that faded scar came from was a powerful time. Is there anything scarier or crazier or more exhilarating than falling in love for the first time? I think it's the moment we really start living. We experience all of these magical things everyone talks, writes, sings so much about, but you're let in on the secret that it really is indescribable. You don't know how you lived without it. You never want to live without it again. There's a reason we never forget it, but what I'm wondering is, do we ever allow ourselves to fall that hard again? Why when that rush starts to creep in, do we immediately look down when we didnt before? "This is going to hurt" we tell ourselves. We strategize before we even start slipping on what we can do to break the fall, land softer. We already know it's going to hurt so maybe we can make it hurt less. Or maybe even we just stop ourselves entirely and cling to that cliff, pull ourselves out of it, shake it off, and run. That's the truth. And, that kind of hurts. 

Right now, I've got this blind fold on. It's loose. I'll take it off. Easily. I can feel the edge. It's not as scary as it used to be. It's going to hurt, but I'll worry about that later. I don't want to look down yet. You don't have to push me or catch me, but it'd be a whole lot cooler if you did.

living well.

There are moments that stop you and you are flooded with an instant replay of what has happened that lead you to right where you are right now. 

I'm a very nostalgic person in general. I like listening to music that takes me back to a very specific moment or time and reliving it. I love laughing until it hurts as stories are retold. But, those moments that you slam into- those are the best. 

I've had a few of them lately. 

I just got back from a trip for work where they honor the top performers in my company. It's pretty amazing that I've been invited on that trip two years in a row. There's a ceremony where you get up in front of everyone and they announce why you're awesome. I don't know what reasons they justified for my presence there. All I know is my heart stopped when I heard the loudest cheer when my name was called and then everything stopped as the movie of the last year of my life played. And, I smiled as time came back to the present.

Last year, I was shy and overwhelmed to be surrounded by all of these people who have inspired me and I felt humbled. Too humbled. Like I didn't belong. This year, they knew me in a genuine way and I was part of the fold. 

It was a tough year. That's no secret. I've struggled in ways I hadn't in a long time. My confidence was shaken. I lost my way as I pushed myself forward on a really uncertain path. 

I've met a lot of people on the way to today, but there was only one who stayed constantly behind me as she nudged me forward and occasionally guided me when I couldn't see anything in front of me. 

I gave her a hug and thanked her for the last year. For her push and support. She apparently watched the same movie I did as I walked across that stage and a tear started to form in her eye as she expressed pride in my transformation. "And, by the way," she said. "You look amazing. You look better than I've ever seen you. More confident. Happy." 

And, she's right. It's amazing what happiness can do. No diet or skincare regimen can do what happiness can do for a person. It brings lightness and glowing light. The calm spot inside of a storm that's still brewing. 

I don't exactly welcome depression or struggle, but I've had enough bouts with it to know it is kind of necessary. A sign that something's just not right and it's time to figure it out. There's always time to wallow in it, but at some point you've got to come out from your hiding spot and fight your way to home base. There's that vulnerability again as you're totally exposed. You have to spend some time in the dark to truly be able to see the light. 

By no means is everything in my life exactly how I want it to be. I don't know that I ever want that for myself. I want to constantly evolve. I want to always want better. That was the promise I made to myself this year. That I was just going to focus on being better. Every day. In whatever way I could. Some days have been better than others, but they've all gotten me here. 

That same night I was asked what I thought got me there and I just said without pause "I never gave up." I think she was looking for a more tactical response, but that's the right answer. 

In my college bedroom, I had a song lyric written on my window: 

"Despair could ravage you if you turn your head around 

to look down the path that's lead you here, cause what can you change?

You're a vessel now floating down the waterways.

You can take your rudder and aim your ship,

just don't bother with the things left in your wake.

And you walk across the stage, take a bow, hear the applause,

and as the curtain falls, just know you did it all

the best that you knew how and you can hear them cheering now.

So let a smile out and show your teeth cause you know you lived it well."

That. That was 10 years ago. And, it's today. I'm doing it the best that I know how. I'm doing better. I'm doing well. 

finding my way back.

Last month I kind of ran away for a minute. I'd been in Houston for the longest stretch of time since I moved here and needed to catch my breath. I was tired of being "new." Of having to introduce myself on an almost daily basis. Of no one really knowing me. So I fled to New Orleans to surround myself with my oldest friends in an old city.
I had just started the process of being open I was telling you about. I had just gotten burned. I was internally fighting the shut down. Literal burn out. Time out.
As my plane took off from Houston, I took advantage of my window seat and my breath was kind of taken away as I looked down on this huge city I now call home. It's mine. I live here. As it got smaller and I got closer to the stars, I felt bigger. I felt better.
I arrived in the early hours of the morning and was greeted by one of those friends. One that had at one point gotten closer to me than almost anyone. None of it was physical, but I do believe that anywhere it went, it's always been with me. And, it felt like home, too.
So, I was reminded of who I am to people who matter most, when I needed it most. But, I was also able to see who I am now.
So, I came back ready. Ready to be home. Ready to live here.
That night I went to see Father John Misty alone. I like doing that now. I just let go. It was like church. The air conditioner was out and every one was pouring sweat as we sang and had our moment. As I walked down the creaky stairs and got my first hit of fresh air, a smile stretched across my face as I applauded myself for this life I'm finally building.
Since then, I can't even begin to retell all of the amazing things that have begun showing up in my life. How much I've laughed or smiled or gotten weak in the knees or felt or hoped or lived. Those are the things that happen in a moment. Those things are comfort. They're home. A string of affirmations. Subtle taps on the shoulder to say, "There you go, you're doing just fine, sister" as I shove myself out into my life.
When you ask for things, it's amazing when they start to show up. You just have to lift your head up and live to see them as they approach. Sometimes you have to get up in the clouds to see just how big your life is. I'll bet you find it in the last place you look.

oh, she's open.

Vulnerability has been something I've been trying to figure out for a long time now. I've been told I'm too independent as if it's a bad thing (it's not). I did shut myself down though, for a while, which wasn't always a good thing. I'd start to open up a little and, most of the time, get a little burned. Back to lock down I'd go. 

But, here's the thing, that burn I was so damn scared of, has this ability to start a fire and it can ignite so many bigger things. 

I've taken some risks this year in pretty much every aspect of my life and, the best part is, it hasn't been scary. There have been burns and scrapes and bruises (there's always bruises), but they go away and I'm still here and always better for them even the ones that have left scars. Lessons learned and I keep the fire burning and move on. 

The thing is, when you're open, you're living. Letting all the good, the bad and the ugly in. But, the powerful part that I wasn't grasping is that I get to choose what stays and what goes. I choose to let all of it make me better. 

I want all of the things. I want a full life. I want to light fires. But the thing about fires is that it has to have air to breathe. It's a living thing. And it has to be done out in the open. 

I'm finding that the safest place to be is the one where you just put it all out there. Throw it all in and just let it happen. It takes courage and fearlessness and humbleness and the the first step to all of those things is, wait for it, vulnerability. 

My boss has been telling me for the last year if you're not uncomfortable something is wrong. The last time I saw her, I told her I've been very uncomfortable and she gave me a hug and told me how proud she was. That's just it. They don't call it growing pains for no reason. 

So, I'll stay out here. I'll keep opening windows and leave the door unlocked. Rubbing sticks together to keep the fire going. After all, when there's nothing left to burn, you have to set yourself on fire, right?

better.

On Christmas, my sister asked me when I was going to start writing again. I mean, at some point? I have been, haven't I? It's been like a year she said. Since Wiley died she said. Damn I thought.
The next day, I was getting my big ass super strong coffee that I can't seem to make it successfully through the day without and I looked over and saw a sticker that just said "WILEY" real big and bold and I thought to myself, OK, I get it!
So here I am. Hi.
I started be reading some of my last posts. It was refreshing to revisit and see where I was a year ago. I'm not there anymore. In so many ways. But, to stumble upon a time capsule of a really positive, powerful moment when I've been feeling really negative and powerless was a reminder that it's in me and I can get it back.
2014, you've been a rough one.
Every aspect of my life got turned upside down and I just had to power through it and think about it later. I guess later is here and now.
I packed up all my things and sold my little nest and moved down to Houston with hopes of a fresh start personally and spring board professionally. I do think it can still be both of those things, but it's absolutely been neither so far. It's been a challenge to say the least. I'm not scared of those, but I can't say I was totally ready. I just took a leap. Sometimes I think running was involved though I'm not sure from what. I got a birthday card from my Aunt and she said what I did was so brave and courageous and that I've done it with such grace. I never thought about my move or myself as any of those things while it was happening and I began to cry because maybe it kind of was.
I'm not going to recap 2014 month-by-month. A LOT happened. Know that. Some of the biggest events of my life have happened. What I will tell you is that I totally lost myself. Again.
I built another big, huge comfort bubble and I was so cozy in it. But, then it popped and not like a big pop more like a slow leak and I still haven't figured out if I did it or someone else just stuck a little pin in it and walked away casually. My family got turned  upside down. My work life got turned upside down. My house was my last little bit of sanctuary until a "for sale" sign got shoved in the grass and I began sorting and packing my things. I was upside down.
The family stuff is right side up again although there may continue to be a little lean. But, for me, I honestly couldn't tell you, at times it's totally just felt like a spin.
I don't know where this chapter will take me. I do know that amazing things come out of discomfort. I was too comfortable. I want more for myself, but I wasn't going to get it in that bubble. I know I made the right decision and I've had lots of signs that confirm it. I'm always searching for the what does it all means and am hopeful for what life could be when I have time to make it so. I'm making plans for myself and I'm going to do my best to stick to them.
So, on this, the last day of 2014 which will forever go down as THE year, what I'm saying is, I've been struggling, challenged, uncomfortable and maybe even hiding, but I'm also fighting and maybe on my better days I'm a little courageous and muster up a bit of grace. 2015 is going to be all about "better." It's allllll gonna get better, y'all.

old man.

You know, there are few people in this world, in this life, that really believe in you, and, I mean really believe in you. The ones that know more about what you're capable of made of more than you know yourself. 

Today I found out what it feels like when they're not there anymore. It's like it all gets a little darker all of the sudden and you realize the torch has been passed on to you to light it up yourself. 

I was just talking about writing. I've had this feeling that it'll come when it's good and ready and I'm not going to force it it rush it. Part of that was because the last conversation I had with Mr. Hilburn he told me he knew it would take me some time. I feared disappointing him and I felt the lump in my throat as I approached him at that football game. To really face him and it. And, just like always, he didn't scold me for the choices I made, but knew that it was all a part of the story. To know he still believed even after all of his pushing and molding and not being able to fully see it materialize. I'm sorry he never did. I don't know that he never will though. 

See, Mr. Hilburn was a writer and a story teller. He never ever stopped writing. I would believe you if you told me he was writing a column at least in his mind as he drew his last breath. He knew the core of things, and most importantly, people. He never seemed to change as he never wrote anything on a computer, always by hand and went to the same restaurant at the same time in the same town. You'd see him driving around Ruston in his red convertible twirling and chewing on the top of his felt tip pen. But, he changed you. If you let him. He never hid the truth and you never wanted to hide it from him. 

So, now the torch has been passed and it's time to pick up the felt tip pen. Who knew it would take this long? He did. 

maybe.

I had a conversation last night about growing up (more or less), not doing what you thought you would be (and being ok with it) and bubbles/safety nets (and what life is like without them). 

It's always great to be on the same page with someone about these things. You don't feel so alone in it or wrong or like a liar. 

I was asked (like I have been many times), why I don't really write much anymore and what makes me want to write and I gave the most honest answer I probably ever have, but one of his insights I don't want to be true. 

He said, "It sounds like being happy isn't good for your writing." 

So, I'm going to make it not true. 

Most days lately I find myself better than I have ever been. I don't know how to be ok with myself because I've spent more of my life not being ok with myself. Sure there are many things I continue to struggle with, but most of those could be fixed when I make the decision to do so. There are a few things I wish would find their way in to my life, but I've gotten better at trusting they will come, and when they do, they'll be better than they ever have been, too. 

Somehow it's gotten uncomfortable to be comfortable and content. Someone told me years ago that being comfortable was giving up and it pissed me off so badly. There are parts of that that were true and there are parts of me that still challenge that notion and make me want to prove it's not true, too. 

I absolutely could challenge myself to get out of my bubble more. Put myself out there more. Take a few more risks. Ask more of the questions I want the answers to. But, maybe I'm just not ready for it to burst yet? I haven't been in this new ok-being-me-I-have-control-over-everything bubble very long, I kinda wouldn't mind soaking it up a little longer and actually getting used to it. 

The point is, I am living the life I want to today. How I want to. And, there are things I want more or just some of, but I know I can get them. 

I want to be more adventurous, powerful, exciting, inspiring, vulnerable, loving and courageous. I want this year to challenge me in new and different ways. I want to fill the missing gaps. I want to complete the circles. Have all the burners going at once. I want all of it. I want all the things. 

Maybe I want someone to burst the bubble for me? Maybe I need to get better at asking for the things I want? 

But, maybe, I just need to be ok with being happy a little while longer first?

And, you know what? Maybe some people are scared of being single? Maybe some people are scared of living and/or being alone? Maybe some people are scared of doing some things they always said they never would? Maybe they're scared of figuring out what's really wrong? You know? 

Maybe I'm not. 

anthems for a 27-year-old girl.

This has been a year of anniversaries. 

I am nostalgic for everything. I look for signs in everything. I overthink everything. 

But, those are all kind of good things right now. 

Boss's Day was a few days ago and when I got to work, I remembered that day a year earlier. I was offered a new job and tossed and turned for days over the decision I made. It was the toughest and most rewarding transition I have ever made. To think back to what I walked into and what I have built in a year is truly astounding. I learned more about myself in more ways and faster than I can ever remember and was able to put to rest a lot of doubts I had about myself. Is this the career I thought I would have? Absolutely never. Do I love my job? Sure do. I don't think most people really understand what I do or the work that goes in to it, and I only bother to explain it to the people who care to hear about it and that's just fine. What a difference a year makes. 

On Friday, I will be seeing David Sedaris. Literally a year later as well. On a more personal level, that trip that I really didn't have time for reminded me who I really am. From the company I kept. To the conversation over drinks. To just the "to hell with it all" attitude I had to have to get in the car and leave all of the pretty big responsibilities I had behind to do something for myself. I had a meeting to be at the next morning with my big, big boss and I drove two hours, hung over and showed up and had an amazing meeting. Another lesson I needed to re-learn. I can do both. And, I'm better for it.  

The year over all has been littered with 10 year anniversaries, most of the milestones have been connected to music (also mostly Ben Gibbard music) and the memories attached to those songs are so visceral and important to me, it has been amazing to connect to a 17 year old Jess as a 27 year old one. 

That girl, 10 years ago, was fearless. And, I had no idea at the time. She fell in love for the first time and let go for the first time without a single fear of falling. With multi-colored hair, a passion for writing and an obsession with music, everything was possible to her. She started believing in herself and her dreams. 

 She made a lot of new friends who in the last year have gotten married to the same people they would soon fall in love with, others had their first babies and a few really started making their dreams come true. 

That Jess let go of a lot of her insecurities. Wore dresses or skirts every day. Got in a car accident and was surprised to see who the first people were who showed up at the hospital. They would be some of the most important people in her life. Three of them are no longer here, one of which will soon have an anniversary of the day I said goodbye to her, others served an amazing purpose and faded out on their own path eventually. 

The 17-year-old Jess made a lot of big decisions and lived with no regrets (way before Tim Riggins reminded her to live that way) and, whether she would admit it or not, she was also really proud of herself. 

The 27-year-old Jess revisited those Ben Gibbard songs in her car and in person (you're welcome 17-year-old Jess). Lost 40 pounds, just like the old one. Allowed herself to have crushes. Got over a lot of her fears and insecurities. Took care of herself and made decisions for herself. Stopped feeling bad that things that are happening for everyone else haven't happened for her yet, because when they do they'll be worth the wait. She made some new friends and better ones with old ones. Let Tim Riggins remind her to have no regrets, Coach Taylor teach her how to be a leader and Tami how to never give up on people. She checked off a lot of things that never seemed to get checked off. Made plans for the future she doesn't want to flake out on. Tore herself a part and put herself back together. Took comfort in signs that made her feel like she was doing exactly what she needed to be doing. 

The 27-year-old Jess started believing in herself again, and whether she'll admit it or not, is actually really proud of herself.