if I smell like smoke it's only 'cuz I've been through hell

I'm still messed up, I just make different decisions now.

I'm extra emotional today, got a touch of the hormones. (PMS, that is) As it is Sunday, I watched church this morning. Today was a combined service led by some individuals from Celebrate Recovery. There were a few who spoke and commented how they struggled with codependency and anxiety. Now that's interesting. I know those are concerns, as I have those problems, but I never thought about  CR working for those particular concerns. I struggled to identify with those speakers, but when the last gentleman got up and talked about his first DUI, then his second a year later. His anger, his struggles... That I identified with. That made me cry. That got me in the feels. hmm, I wonder why... Oh, I forgot to mention, I have to watch my church services on YouTube as I still attend the church I grew up in, even though I now live hours away. That's one good thing that came out of COVID, I suppose. They became more consistent with the live streams, and I returned to attending church most Sundays. But I don't want to talk much more about religion, I sorta covered that in a previous post. The point of this one is that one of the young ladies mentioned working at my old high school, which led to me looking up the school website, and it made me nostalgic as all hell. I am so frickin' homesick. Even with all the bullshit I went through in that town and that county, I want to go home. Though my pragmatic brain kicks on in the background and I remind myself that when we're homesick and looking back we tend to gloss over the bullshit and see those memories through rose-colored glasses. 

courtesy;lainey.wilson/

stage beauty

you know me or you think you do you, you just don't seem to see

I've been waiting all this time to be something I can't define

so let's cause a scene, clap our hands and stomp our feet or something

yeah, something, I've just got to get myself over me

and I hate what I've become

courtesy; the.format

yeah, I'm not such a sweet thing

I want to take the pre-conceived

out from underneath your feet

we could shake it off

instead we'll plant some seeds

we'll watch them as they grow,

and with each new beat

from your heart the roots grow deeper

the branches will they reach for what?

nobody really knows

but underneath it all

there's this heart all alone

what about when it's gone?
and it really won't be so long
sometimes it feels like a heart is no place to be singing from at all

there's a world we've never seen
there's still hope between the dreams
the weight of it all
could blow away with a breeze

today's playlist

I.... don't even know what to write. Today was such an expulsion of emotions and I trauma dumped on my friend and I feel bad about it because I don't want her to have to carry that weight too. Sooo I decided to pull this up. I missed a couple days anyway and need to write. When I write I feel better, even if I don't write anything worth reading. 

I'm in song lyric communication mode today. I'm trying to be intentional with my song selection as a result.

3:22am: I fell asleep shortly after writing this. Upon awaking I felt like the slate had been wiped clean and my mood had reset back to baseline. It's always nice to get the emotions under control, however I sometimes question my baseline existence because I've also taught myself to suppress a lot of things so like... yeah it's baseline I feel 'normal' but is my 'normal' my best? I want to live my best life. I'm tired of settling. I don't have time to keep settling. 

I just… idk. I don’t like the life I had anymore, it’s like I woke up. And I think, why the hell am I putting in all this work every day to get up and heal if all I’m healing for is to go to a job I hate and live as a person who owns only beiges and greys. There’s no point in getting better if it means I have to go back to a life I don’t wanna lead anymore yknow? So I want to make my life be one that I want to live instead of settling.

I know I’m supposed to be here for a reason the universe has been telling me this for years, but I can’t figure out what the fuck it is. I thought ABA was it so I jumped in and gave it my everything and it burnt me out and stole my identity, then I almost died driving home from that job… so idk it seems to me that’s not what IT is either...  Maybe it’s my book. If I keep saying it enough it'll happen, that's how that works right?

I'm going to write a book. I'm going to publish a book.

 I'm going to write a book. I'm going to publish a book.

Funny, now that I've got the idea in my head the brainstorming doesn't stop. How I want to format the book, other things I'll want to write beyond my memoirs... Short stories, kids books, young adults... We all know what happens when I set my cap on something... yep, that's right. I hyper focus on it for 5 minutes then move on to the next thing because finishing things has never been my strong suit.

But this is something I've wanted to do since as long as I can remember. And I know that there will only be a few things in this life I ever truly finish, and I want this to be one of them. Hah. I'm making this huge deal out of a book that I haven't even started that even once it's published the only people who will buy it will be my family. I don't want Harry Potter fame, but it would be nice to know that my stories made an impact on someone. Weird to whine about it in a blog I plan to incorporate into the book. Weirdo.

NOTE: I know it's weird I put a Jack Johnson song under a picture of the band Deer Tick, but the path my neurospicy brain took to put that thought together made it make sense in my brain so tough tittywampus.

courtesy; joan.jett/jack.johnson

hey, that's relational frame theory

well, I've walked these streets
a virtual stage, it seemed to me
makeup on their faces
actors took their places next to me
well, I've walked these streets
in a carnival, of sights to see
all the cheap thrill seekers vendors and the dealers
they crowded around me

Fuck being a middle age woman jesus christ every time I cough or sneeze too hard my brain instantly thinks, "Please don't pee" and I spend the next however long flexing my pelvic floor chanting the "please don't pee" mantra and praying it stops soon. To add to it, I'm not exactly quick on my feet so jumping up to run to the bathroom is unfortunately not an option. 

I don't know that I have much to say today with actual words, but I've been making an epic playlist all day. It covers the bases of the ebb and flow of my emotions and energy over the day. As of 5pm it's already 2 hours long so... As for as the playlist goes, I would like to point out that none of it was brought up on shuffle, I've thought through and picked each one of these songs intentionally. A lot of them are associated with strong memories. hey, that's relational frame theory!  To practice writing I'm going to go through the playlist and talk about some of the songs. Let's not get carried away now.

Let's see if I can remember...

playlist.

# 1 Murder In my Mind: Kordell
        This one is fun to drive to. Reminds me of getting on the interstate heading to This City or That City. I'd usually put it on to amp myself up for the crazy traffic and the start of my day. Thinking back on all those mornings in the car. Drinking my smoothie, rocking out, chugging a protein drinking and trying to enjoy the morning drive before a long day. As I write this there's another song that I like to drive to and even though the idea of driving is kind of scary I can still feel the bumps on the steering wheel and my hands. The thunk it would make when I drummed against it while waiting for a light to change. The ridges that had worn to the shape of my fingertips... The slight lag when my foot would push the pedal then the VROOMWEEEE when the gear caught. Opening the sunroof on a sunny day and just rocking the FUCK out. Damn. Writing always gets the truth. I didn't realize how much I missed driving. 

(NOTE: If this is how much I wrote for the first song imagine how long this will be hahaha. If I finish it, that is. My attention span is pretty short)

#2 The View from Here; Octavia Spencer

        This song is fun to sing along to and gets me frickin' PUMPED. The song is from a Christmas movie called Spirited. I'm not going to explain it, because this. I wish I was this talented. Also, it's not a Christmas song. 

#3 Drop (feat Blac Youngster

        That bass tho.

#4  Doing Fine; Snow Tha Product

        I got a backpack, shades, and a heart that's made of gold

        and the title of my life: "The Best Story Ever Told" and

        I think that I'm doing alright

#8 Leaving on a Jet Plane; Peter, Paul, & Mary

        I frickin' love singing this song. It also makes me feel all warm and fuzzy, especially when I remember that part from Armageddon where Ben Affleck sings it to Liv Tyler. That's a good movie I haven't watched that in awhile. I saw that in a movie theater that doesn't exist anymore. I also used to have the playlist and remember sitting in my Buick with the windows at my favorite park, smoking a joint and listening to this song. 

#14 Hard to Handle; Black Crows

hey, little thing, let me light your candle

'cause, mama, I'm so hard to handle now, yes sir, I'm

So many nights on the dance floor rocking the fuck out to this song. Arms up, drink in hand, pointing at my friends as we drunkenly shout along with the lyrics. Closing my eyes and experiencing the music... I always do that. I've been to so many concerts where I hardly look up. When I'm experiencing live music I close my eyes so I can fully immerse myself in it. Live music experiences are extremely personal to me and closing my eyes gives me a sense of privacy to revel in the moment and feel the vibrations from the music.

#15 

AUTHORS NOTE: yeah, my ADHD train did not let me finish this I wandered off and never came back. The playlist is attached, click the link. Or don't. It's whatevs.

To be continued....? 

courtesy; natalie.merchant

hold me 'til I'm not lonely anymore

It's a Sunday! Know what that means? Church day! I look forward to this day, because of the routine I (used to) have on this day. I truly spent it as a day for quiet, reflection, and peace. The ideal routine; wake up and watch the sun rise. Watch Bible stories and/or listen to audio stories while I wait for church to start. Watch church, take notes, reflect on the verse. Put on a video or Bible story that goes along with the church lesson while I get ready for the day. Ideally, my grocery list and everything will already have been made and ready to go. Sundays used to be my errands day and I found it so fulfilling to go to the different stores to get the best deals and always using my recyclable bags. Then I got this job and started school and lost myself. 

i was a lost boy when you found me

I've spent the last almost 2 years trying to fit into this mold and image I created in my head of who I thought I wanted to be and what a responsible adult looked like and I was going to show everyone that I was not the drugged out slutty drunk fuck up everyone knew before. I will say however, that the response to the wreck and some of the people I've interacted with tells me that maybe I wasn't as bad as I thought I was? Or perhaps through all the bullshit there are still people out there who saw through all that. Or accepted it as part of who I am. Or maybe I'm just that good at masking. 

I'm going to spend the next year finding myself. I have pictures of young me everywhere to remind me of the brilliant resilient confident awesome ALy I am. She got lost somewhere along the way and I want her back.

Boy. Life sure didn't turn out the way I expected.

Quick question... Has it always been the woman's responsibility to put work into the marriage? If so, why is this the standard? I don't think I like that very much. I shall have to write a strongly worded letter to... someone. 

courtesy; disney/the.midnight

jude 1:2

I don't understand how worshipping Jesus instead of God is not idolatry... Granted, he is (symbolically) the 'sun of god' (see what I did there?) so sure, I guess I could see that. I don't plan to fully flesh this out, but it was on my mind due to some reading and once I blurted it out I thought oh what the hay. But my religious views are not something I discuss in depth with anyone. I have a strict set of personal beliefs that I describe as a conglomeration of the full pantheon of religions combined with a splash of philosophy, history, and magic. (Although the argument could be made that wicca and other forms of witchcraft are considered religions, which is true, for the purposes of dramatic flair I included it as a separate entity.) Anywho. When asked, I will say I am Christian. But when I say Christian, I do not think it means what you think it means. I am a Christian deist (Methodist) and follow the religious and philosophic principles of transcendentalism. There is so much more to it than that and so many other parts encompassed, but there isn't a name for it other than ALy-ness and I'm not going to explain to you what that means. I don't know that I could even if I wanted to. Which is how it should be. Forcing your beliefs or trying to make someone believe the same things as you because you have the audacity to assume that your evangelism can improve their lives. What do you know about their lives? Our lives? Nothing. So stop using religion as an excuse to brain wash people or do terrible things. Ahem. Well then. 

I've included some links so you can educate yourself if you are so inclined, but otherwise let's move on.

we're the ones on the run, we're the ones with the diamond dolls

 well, they’ve got a bonfire… and a chubby little butterball tied to a stake…

As my birthday approaches and my body struggles to heal, I've made some interesting discoveries about myself. I get it now, when people talk about how certain things get easier as you get older. To be honest though, I don't know how much of it is coming to terms with aging Hi, my name is aLy and I have Peter Pan Syndrome, accepting mortality because my dad died and I'm now half an orphan, or the fact that I almost met my own mortality 3 months ago.

Typing that out, the 3 months help put things into perspective. Sometimes during this healing journey I lose hope, and think that I should be back to work now and or experiencing less pain or walking better or feeling better... but it's only been 3 months. 97 days, 2328 hours, 139,680 minutes since I experienced the most life changing moment of my existence. And you know what, it's okay that I'm not okay. I'm not really. I mask every day because I don't know what else to do. I exist. I want to get back to normal, but the pain never fucking stops. The realization that this is not "fixed" as fast as my brain wanted to believe has begun to dawn. When I left the hospital I thought 'damn I'm doing great I'll be up walking around by Christmas to decorate the tree. I'll probably even be able to do Thanksgiving'. And here I am, still in a wheelchair and only able to hobble short distances. It's fine. It's fine.

The thought that I may have to use a cane for the rest of my life started as a halfway serious comment but now I'm thinking it may be a reality. I try to use my leg, but there's a large section that I straight up can't feel, and it extends through part of my foot into my big toe. And she swells. And the knee just gives out for like, no reason at all. My brain is pushing the niggling reality of the situation through and as it turns out, it's not as exciting a perspective as I originally thought.

My daydreams have started to incorporate my disability new reality and I see myself limping with a cane. My arm seems to be fine though. My clinical self can't decide if this is a good or bad thing. On the one hand, it could be a positive as it possibly demonstrates my acceptance of the situation and now incorporate it into my self image.

OR

It could indicate I'm losing hope in the healing process and don't think I'll overcome the obstacles I'm currently encountering.

Man. Life gets so interesting once you add a clinical perspective to your repertoire.

The body is an amazing work of art. My body turned the angry red brown gashes of surgery and broken bones into smooth pink paths of health in 97 days, 2328 hours, 139,680 minutes. A month ago I had to have help to get in the car. I couldn't use the big girl potty and spent over a month emptying my bowels into a shit bucket less than 10 feet from my bed.

Wow. This was long.

it's not who you are that holds you back...

it's who you think you're not

courtesy; the.chipmunk.adventure