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[alipservice]

I have told myself every reason why I haven’t opened a martial arts school.

But today, in a quiet moment I realized- maybe it’s because I’m afraid to do it without you. In a moment of no ego, no pride, only an honesty that anger and hurt sometimes don’t make space for. Maybe I am afraid to push forth without your guiding hand on my shoulder.

In what feels like every stage and age of my life, you were either ahead of me, beside me, or behind me showing me the way. When I turn these days, I see no one. Only ghosts. Only my own reflection … I still don’t know who I’m looking at.

I am afraid. I am still so sad and so hurt. I don’t know how to heal from this. I wish we could pause time and have tea.

[alipservice]

It’s okay to backslide.

Normal, even.

Dig your heels in- and onward.

[alipservice]

I dream of you and the community often. I don't know how to heal. I don't know how to process this. I'm not even sure what I'm processing. I left and immediately was locked into a cage with all my memories, traumas, heartache. My upbringing, my home, my sport, my escape, my love, my teachers, my friends, my life, my mentors, my students. Gone in an email. I was so used to turning to you for anything I needed- I guess I have been a little lost without that guidance and direction. And then perhaps, I have been both resting from the onslaught of "discipline" and in an odd act of rebellion I've become the opposite of you. The fear of living too long to see myself become the villain. I watched it happen. I don't want to be this version anymore. I want to be somewhere between this and that. I don't know

[alipservice]

manifest

I deserve my own house, with my husband and my dog. Space to breathe and rest and heal and to call my own. To decorate with plants and color and weird things and chic things. To play music in the mornings while I make breakfast, drink coffee, and watch the sun greet the sky. Drink tea and read books lounging on pillows in the afternoons. Sit outside at night and listen to crickets and neighbors and to whisper secrets to the moon. Martial Arts is my life again. Fitness is there too. I am financially savvy and abundant. I lead, teach, and inspire. Only the best people are in my life. I love my life. Health and vitality are my number one area of life again. Growth is my number one value. I put me first so I can take care of everything and everyone else. I am strong and beautiful. I love my reflection. I am proud of her. Things will have their ups and downs but overall I'm happy. I'm THAT woman. I'm THAT fucking woman.

[alipservice]

On Remembering Gratitude

I've come to write about something not sad. Today wasn't special by any means, but I did have two moments I took special notice of. This morning, I was in control of my brain- not the other way around- and I decided on a "bright line". I would not complain today. I would not whine or grumble. It of course made my day a lot better. I find sometimes I swing so far from the toxic positivity that I'm used to, I leave no room for the real stuff. Later into my double shift, I had a moment of gratitude. Of remembering a time when I was losing my mind being home alone, working part time. I had prayed for a full time position to give me purpose, community, and to get me the fuck out of the house. And it certainly has. It's not where I want to end up per se, but it's not a terrible stepping stone. Aside from the 4 am wake up calls. They can GET FUCKED.

[alipservice]

I try hard not to live in the past (do I? Try that hard?) but lately I do not know who I’m dealing with when I look in the mirror.

I say to myself often, “I used to…” and then fill in the blank with something largely unhelpful. After all, I’d we want to move forward, we can’t do it looking backwards? Or atleast that’s what I tell other people.

I’ve realized I avoid looking at my reflection. Where there was light in my eyes, I see now exhaustion- and not the kind that comes with too little sleep. Sad, pale skin. An extra 30 lbs adding to the roundness of my face.

Nothing is defined anymore. No sharpness, within or without. I feel like I’ve been so dulled by every one and everything. Slushing through a job that does not excite me, living in a space that isn’t mine…living in a body that doesn’t feel like mine.

So few things spark joy and passion lately. I still wonder if I’m depressed. Maybe I’ve had so much practice dodging and burying it that I don’t even recognize what it is.

Is that why I’m so tired all the time? Is this what they mean when they say healing will make you exhausted? I spent so many years being disregulated my body just can’t find the energy to be a functioning person.

I was so much more aware than I give myself credit for. I spent all my time running, chasing, kicking, achieving- so that I wasn’t like my mother, crippled my depression and god knows what else- spending day in and day out asleep on the couch.

Cut to me. Aged 32. Choosing to start my life over a week shy of a global pandemic. Let me remind you once more- mediocre job, 30 lbs over weight, mostly unhappy save for moments here and there … laying in bed each day for hours on end.

I need one little spark. One piece of hope. A degree of change to let me know I will finally, soon be unstuck.

Am I waiting for someone or something that will never come?

[alipservice]

On feeling disconnected

I guess I’ll keep clacking away here until the site no longer exists. Physical journaling doesn’t call to me at the moment. I ran here with something to say but I’ve lost it.  Spent a few days in Disney last week and it’s as if the place has wrung me dry of all joy and motivation for regular life. It doesn’t help my period is coming so I’m depleted in so many weird ways. All I want to do is sleep. I hate my reflection. I feel out of control around food. Therapy is expensive. I don’t like the moments where I speak up for myself and I am not heard or seen unless I am the target for dumping any and all accountability. Looking forward to consuming some art and an espresso martini or two tomorrow. Starting the day with nutritious food and a workout. Hoping this floaty, weighty feeling goes away and I can move forward into a better me.

[alipservice]

A migraine has spoiled what I was looking forward to as a good day. It’s been fine really, but as high of a pain tolerance that I have, functioning (in the fitness space) with a migraine is a nightmare.

I have a run that needs to get done later before my second shift so I’m hoping laying down for an hour will quell the beast in my forehead.

It’s been a weird week and a half. The energy both without and within has been off, and off in a way that I can’t quite name- which perhaps makes it that much more frustrating to navigate. I’m tired.

Heading to see The Mouse tomorrow for the second time ever. Hoping some of the magic rubs off. I could use some pixie dust right now.

[alipservice]

I am jealous of those who think more deeply, who write better, who draw better, who look better, who live better, who love better than I.

-Sylvia Plath

[alipservice]

“You deserve this energy. This is the energy you put out into the world. Don't let other peoples pain trick you into joining the pain.

You keep your eye on the prize.

The prize is you. “

[alipservice]

On Wanting that Feeling

of being desired.

[alipservice]

On...

A few years ago, the worst thing I feared was being lonely. Being left alone. Being left- period. Now I realize I miss being alone. I also realize I carry a lot more.  I don’t put my feelings and experience anywhere. I don’t write, I don’t have a therapist, I don’t do martial arts at the moment- which was so much more to me than a career. Those movements were often how I processed my emotions.

[alipservice]

On Edge

I used to know who she was. I used to also love who she was, despite some behavior that may have been at odds with that. I used to watch her run wild and free, and I could spot that glittering golden girl from miles away.  Lately, I have no idea who she is. I don’t know how to define her. I don’t know where her edges are. Where she used to be all sharp lines and zig-zags, she’s cloudy and without definition.  She’s a cloud of wispy tendrils - you wouldn’t be able to grab her if you tried.

[alipservice]

Certain points of seasons evoke Nostalgia.

The onset of Summer always does it.

“What do you want?” I ask Nostalgia, sadness enveloping the question. She only looks back at me with eyes mischievous and melancholy all at once. I don’t ever know how to interpret this.

My memories often feel like a destination I can get to again. Nostalgia clings to this and I am the constant bearer of bad news.

“Those are not destinations. Those are ghosts.”

Her brow inevitably furrows and then I feel it. When she recalls the sensation of the passage of time that plagues humans.

And then the sadness comes and clings to my edges. It often feels like I can brush it off, like a particularly stubborn piece of lint. And yet it persists. And she, insists.

Surely there must be a way to get there.

[alipservice]

ᴛɪᴘꜱ ꜰᴏʀ ᴡʀɪᴛᴇʀꜱ [ꜰʀᴏᴍ ᴀ ᴡʀɪᴛᴇʀ]

don't let your skill in writing deter you. publishers look for the storyline, not always excellent writing. many of the greatest books came from mediocre writers—and also excellent and terrible ones.

keep writing even when it sucks. you don't know how to write this battle scene yet? skip ahead. write [battle scene here] and continue. in the end, you'll still have a book—and you can fill in the blanks later.

find your motivation. whether it's constantly updating That One Friend or posting your progress, motivation is key.

write everything down. everything. you had the perfect plot appear to you in a dream? scribble down everything you can remember as so as you can. I like to keep cue cards on my nightstand just in case.

play with words. titles, sentences, whatever. a lot of it will probably change either way, so this is the perfect opportunity to try out a new turn of phrase—or move along on one you're not quite sure clicks yet.

explain why, don't tell me. if something is the most beautiful thing a character's ever laid eyes on, describe it—don't just say "it's beautiful".

ask for critique. you will always be partial to your writing. getting others to read it will almost always provide feedback to help you write even better.

stick to the book—until they snap. write a character who is disciplined, courteous, and kind. make every interaction to reinforce the reader's view as such. but when they're left alone, when their closest friend betrays them, when the world falls to their feet...make them finally break.

magic. has. limits. there is no "infinite well" for everyone to draw from, nor "infinite spells" that have been discovered. magic has a price. magic has a limit. it takes a toll on the user—otherwise why can't they simply snap their fingers and make everything go their way?

read, read, read. reading is the source of inspiration.

first drafts suck. and that's putting it gently. ignoring all the typos, unfinished sentences, and blatant breaking of each and every grammar rules, there's still a lot of terrible. the point of drafts is to progress and make it better: it's the sketch beneath an oil painting. it's okay to say it's not great—but that won't mean the ideas and inspiration are not there. first drafts suck, and that's how you get better.

write every day. get into the habit—one sentence more, or one hundred pages, both will train you to improve.

more is the key to improvement. more writing, more reading, more feedback, and you can only get better. writing is a skill, not a talent, and it's something that grows with you.

follow the rules but also scrap them completely. as barbossa wisely says in PotC, "the code is more what you'd call 'guidelines' than actual rules". none of this is by the book, as ironic as that may be.

write for yourself. I cannot stress this enough. if what you do is not something you enjoy, it will only get harder. push yourself, but know your limits. know when you need to take a break, and when you need to try again. write for yourself, and you will put out your best work.

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[alipservice]

Beware the Ides of March [x]