#teamallison

This morning I woke up up 7 wrapped desperately around my serpentine pregnancy pillow, pillowing my useless liver as my phone moaned to the heartbreak and triumph of a Jenni Rivera song set to some forgotten alarm on my phone. Yaaaa sees m'olvidoooooo tu nombre y tu appelliiiidoooooo! she wails. I've forgotten everything of you. I've forgotten your first and even your last name. Not all of us are strong or lucky like Jenni. I regularly push things away from the front of my mine. Once I failed to call to mind the name of a particularly heart-breaking ex of mine and my surprise and glee were so great I decided a celebration was in order. We drank so much tequila I'll forget the offender's name, if only due to the once in a lifetime hangover to celebrate having done the opposite. I miss forgetting things like this a little. My sickness keeps me from epic moments, good and bad. I have to reach harder to reach the messy, creative, throw your hair to the wind, creative person you thought you were before.

This morning i woke up 26. I'm not sure how i feel about it and I know that is both stupid and screams of my first world issues with my pricey therapist who I see every other week and almost definitely has a PCC membership. The sad this is I do have this therapist. She is a wonderful woman who makes me feel normal for around 120 minute a week. She's trying to convince me to accept a lot and forgive a lot more. To let go and find joy without control or planning. As I mentioned; its every other week and my jealousy of her suspected PCC shift might inevitably ruin our relationship. (Seriously- have you ever seen how KNOWLEDGEABLE their people are? Their produce man talked to me about the merits of dry roasted kale versus hemp for a full ten minutes. Thats know-how right there.) But in any case, I'm 26 now and on my way to old and much closer to dying than I ought to be and I wish I had more days. I feel like I'm not quite bright enough to keep up with whats going on in my world. I waste many of my days doing nothing at all; something that felt luxurious and romantic when I knew I had a whole damn lot of them but now it feels tinny and wasteful. It is hard for me that this is the only 100% honest piece of writing I do. Not that I'm prolific. But of the many words that spill from me: from my mouth, my fingers, my music: this insight is always honest. Honesty is inconvenient and often humbling.

I love my family for everything they do. My parents dedicate more that another job's worth of time to my care, always with a patience that is so infinite its uncalled for the number of times their aid goes without mention or without thanks. My siblings for always worrying, always with the best intentions at the bottom, and always willing to to forgive me when I lose my temper with their impossible tendency to do whatever is currently driving me crazy. My Aunt and Grandparents for visiting to hear the same stores of my same boring life but laugh and comment and applaud my little wins at any case. While my organs may be laced through and through with disease, I was blessed enough to be surrounded on the outsides, by a group of some of the most loving, generous, brave, kind people I have been lucky enough to have in my life. I love you. For those of you not listed here, you know who you are. You've been my hands, right and left; and pushed me up out of me seat, sometimes even if I didn't want it. Thank you for you calls, your cards, your visits, or even just your words or embraces at just the right moment. Together guys we will beat this. Thank you to #teamallison