alive.

TONYA

Too many times without my sister and my brother
Dad or mother by my side but they're in spirit
I always hear it, I know they feel it
My mom will always have these dreams that used to keep her up at night
I smoke to keep them all away and make use of the time

I don't know. This shit is weird. The girl who inspired me to write my first blog inspired me to write again. Honestly I never thought I'd see 25. My brother always told me I'd die before I was 19 and I believed him for so many years and kinda just let the years roll over me, and now I'm like, grown. 

Boy my fuckin' writing voice has changed, huh? I think the last time I wrote something like this was..... high school? I mainly just used it to try to get people to notice me by publishing my suicidal poetry and stuff. I don't know. I've certainly grown a lot, that's for damn sure. Maybe I'll post a picture, maybe not. My main creative output these days is making fake rap albums and tracklistings for my alter-ego, which honestly I probably need to unpack in therapy someday. 

Anyways. I'm 25 and my mom is dead. There's this show, Bojack Horseman, and it's about an alcoholic horse with unspecified mental health issues, but which I've diagnosed as major depressive disorder, anxiety, paranoia, and probably bipolar, but I'm most likely wanting to see that to have something to grasp onto. Every year, there's a new season and I shotgun it because I fucking love the dark humor and how real it is. I identify more with this alcoholic cartoon horse than I do with most people in my life. Last year, there was an episode where Bojack's inner thoughts were audible to the audience, and I broke down crying. It was me. 

I cried like a little baby. I ran into my ex's room and jumped in her bed and sobbed into her arms for 45 minutes. 

Anyways, fuck, this is getting away from me. This year, the big episode that hit home for me was the episode where Bojack delivers his mother's eulogy. A key phrase he repeats several times is "My mother is dead and everything is worse now". 

My mom overdosed. At least we think. My dad didn't want an autopsy. She died in my childhood room. Sometimes the voices in my head tell me it's on purpose. She did that because of me. She picked me. Other times I tell myself it was an accident and she just mixed up her medicine. I don't know. She was addicted to pills for decades, shouldn't she know better to mix percs and benzos? I don't know.

FUCK. Again. Anyways. Bojack kept repeating that phrase during the episode and talking about how resentful of his mother he was. I am resentful that she died. I'm resentful she didn't take care of me most of my childhood. I'm resentful of all the experiences I lost out on with her because of my anger.

But?

I'm thriving. I've grown so much in the almost year since she's been gone. I'm alive.

I never really took risks as a kid. I was too afraid. That's changing. I spent my 25th birthday on the roof of my dad's garage. I figured I'd start with a safe risk. I drove to my dad's that afternoon and after 15 minutes of trying to fit my still plus-sized ass through the window, I got up. I listened to music and took a good selfie and vibed. My dad came home, and found me and kinda just shook his head. I went up after dinner and talked to my mom because for whatever reason, being like 24 feet above ground level makes you feel a million times closer to heaven. My dad snuck up the stairs and listened for a while and then made himself known. He climbed out and we sat there talking about her and how she visited me in a dream the morning of her funeral. We talked about the stars and my nephew and about school. I think the coolest thing about that was that for the first time in my life, I didn't have to ask my dad to put down the phone or step away from his laptop or briefcase. He was totally present and there for me and I didn't have to ask. 

I'm alive. I'm going to continue to be alive. This is the Christ Year.