Music, Memory, and the Mess in Between

I wake up every day wondering what version of the day I’m going to get. Some days feel manageable before I even open my eyes, and others feel heavy from the moment I become aware of them. That uncertainty has become part of my routine, something I carry before my feet even hit the floor.

Lately, I’ve been questioning my purpose in a very real, personal way. I don’t always recognize the person I see in the mirror anymore, and that’s hard to admit. I see time. I see changes I didn’t ask for. I see flaws I fixate on, especially my teeth, and I find myself holding back my smile because of it. That kind of quiet insecurity chips away at you more than people realize.

What hurts the most is that I remember who I used to be. I miss that version of me....the one who felt lighter, more confident, more at ease. I miss my youth, but more than that, I miss feeling comfortable in my own skin. Deep down, I still know who I am. I know my heart, my dreams, and what I want out of life. But there’s this constant disconnect between who I am inside and what I see outside.

I spend so much of my life taking care of everyone else. Fixing problems. Showing up. Holding things together. Carrying weight that isn’t always mine to carry. And I can’t help but wonder when is it my turn? When do I get to be the one who is taken care of?

On top of everything, life hasn’t slowed down enough to give me space to breathe.

Watching my beagle Buster age has been one of the quietest heartbreaks I’ve ever felt. Losing his brother a couple months ago did something to me that I still haven’t fully processed. Now every slower step, every gray hair feels like a reminder that time keeps moving whether I’m ready or not. I find myself grieving something that hasn’t even happened yet, and that fear sits heavy in my chest more often than I’d like to admit.

Being laid off has taken its toll in ways I didn’t expect. I don’t like not having my own money. There was comfort in knowing I could handle things, that I had control, that I could take care of what needed to be taken care of. Losing that has shaken me, especially losing my insurance with surgery ahead of me. The thought of needing a procedure to remove tissue in my left breast, combined with dental work I don’t know how I’ll afford, is overwhelming. It’s not just fear, it’s uncertainty layered on top of everything else.

To most people, I probably seem fine. I act normal. I show up. I smile when I need to. But inside, I’m scared. I’m hurting. I’m trying to hold everything together while quietly feeling like I’m coming apart in places no one can see.

And then night comes, and that’s when everything hits all at once.

The memories. The people I’ve lost. The animals I’ve loved and said goodbye to. The struggles I’m in right now. The “what ifs” and the “how am I going to’s.” It’s like my mind waits until everything is quiet to become the loudest it’s been all day. There’s no distraction, no escape...just everything I’ve carried finally speaking at the same time.

I think about all the things I want to do, and sometimes the weight of it all makes me feel stuck instead of motivated. I’ve lost some of that push I used to have. I want to get my podcast going, but lack of money has put that on hold. I’ve been making my healing bracelets trying to turn something heavy into something meaningful. Honestly, I probably need to make one for myself too.

I want to keep building Independent Uprising. I want to push forward with Sims Artist Group and help my friend get out on tour because I believe in him and his talent shouldn’t go unnoticed. These things matter to me deeply, but at night they all stack up in my mind....dreams, responsibilities, hope, pressure, everything blending together until it feels like too much at once.

And still… there are moments where I feel like myself again.

Music has always been my escape. My reset button. My way of drowning out the noise when everything feels too loud. I turn it up in the shower, in the car, when I’m alone. Music understands me in a way I don’t always have words for.

At concerts, something shifts. For a while, I feel whole. I feel alive. I feel like I belong exactly where I am.

I have Troutzillafest coming up, and I get to do what I love, work with bands, be part of something bigger than myself, and bring people together through music. That means more to me than I can explain.

And a week after that, I’ll be sitting on the lawn by myself watching Yungblud. I’ll take it all in. I’ll let myself feel everything without holding back. And in those moments, I know I’ll find pieces of myself again.

I’ll write about it. I’ll hold onto it.

Because right now life feels like everything all at once .... grief and fear, uncertainty and pressure, but also hope, passion, and small moments where I remember who I am.

To those of you who feel like I am feeling, know that you are not alone. I know I’m not the only one in this world carrying all of this. The world feels heavy right now, and I know Gen X is supposed to be the strong ones, but even the strong break sometimes. We have our moments. We carry a lot. We feel it deeply.

But one thing is for sure.....we never give up.

I’m not okay all the time. I’m still struggling through it. But I’m still here. Still moving. Still trying. Still searching for the version of me I miss so much.

And maybe, for now, that’s enough.

Peace, Love and Loud Music,

Mickey

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Yv97b2oPk3w