I don’t know how electrolytes became a sign of affection, but here we are.

I was so jazzed about January’s post, I wanted to write something really articulate and thought-out.

But I’m exhausted of reaching for perfection. I just want to write. In the spirit of my new mantra, “close is enough is great,” I present to you: in the in-between.

Autonomy

What does stability look like anyway?

Saying I want stability and I want my life to change feels like asking for two opposing things at once.

The grand question of my life for the last 5 months has been, should I get a regular job?? The answer continues to unequivocally be naahhhh. I’ve made it this far without one, let me just try another week…

And then another..

And another…

Until months go by, and my life begins to feel different – joyful, peaceful, more lived-in.

The systems and processes that once ordered my days have washed away. Productivity hacks like lists and different colored pens only come in handy once in a while. These days I’m waiting on the phone to ring, running to the studio, and contemplating the music industry when I’m not moving through it in amazement. The names of Grammy-nominated, plaque-accumulating people grace my lips with ease, and I wonder when I woke up in the music business. 

Is this the music business? It looks different than I expected.

Everyone I know is still hustling in some form or fashion. Even with all our accomplishments. Is it just Memphis? Wheat says we can start a renaissance. I’m down to make that happen. During conversations like those, the future feels certain – success, money, accolades. And when the phone goes dead, the silence is loud. In it I can hear my thoughts, should I go get a regular job?

Naahhhhh.

Autonomy is addictive.

Lately I’ve been romanticizing working in a local ice cream parlor though. Something cute, and simple. A true PTJ. When I’m door dashing, I sometimes envy and always respect the people working their jobs with their uniforms and their schedules and their bi-weekly checks. The thing I miss the most is having my taxes paid. TAXES. Should be the first thing we bring up when we talk about entrepreneurship. Um, hello? Tally up those business expenses AS you racking them up. Thank me later.

I’m tired even thinking about taxes. And what about studio time? It sounds fun and glamorous. What feels like play is actually work. It’s actually taxing. You want to be in the music industry and maintain a sleep schedule? Good luck. Five a.m. becomes a normal end to a day full of laughter and music making.

The other day I woke up to a business call with crust still in my eyes. I rinsed my face with water while we got all the calls connected and rushed to the kitchen with my laptop to grab coffee and take notes. Everything was smooth though, and it amused me later as I tumbled through my afternoon into a DoorDash shift. This is the life.

If I’m being totally honest, I enjoy these days of tumbling. Life’s easier when I’m not fighting myself on the decisions I’m making. When friction arises, one can’t help but question, and reminisce. Regret only comes into play when I start to dislike the current circumstances. Oh if I had taken that opportunity, if I hadn’t given up that other opportunity. But when I reach those moments of smooth coasting, and everything is kosher, I feel like I’m right where I’m supposed to be.

I guess that’s the interesting part about living a life based on your feelings. Feelings change. So does life. But when you asked for change, and you get it, and you don’t like it, mhm that’s okay too. We’re allowed to feel what we feel.

One of the biggest lessons I’ve garnered from this changing life of mine, in the in-between, is managing myself through change. The words “self regulating” echo through my mind far too many times in a day. But they work. I’m no longer panicking in self-isolation, I’m responding to more texts, and I feel more connected to the outer world. That’s something else I didn’t consider would happen – living an autonomous life can be isolating by circumstance, and isolation has funny effects on humans. Being social is a part of my health routine, now. Thank God.

Visibility

Another weird thing about being in the music industry is being visible. How other people see me is often not how I see myself. It’s hard to line those visions up, when I’m having one experience and someone else is having another. It’s funny when it becomes an argument – like my mom trying to convince me of how popping I really am, and me just looking like ??? I’m just here doing what I do.

I honestly don’t know how people perceive that and I don’t think it’s my responsibility to manage people’s perception of me. I think it’s my job to show up honestly and with integrity. I don’t always feel cute. But I always am cute, I think that’s what I have to remember. Self-doubt is a muhf****r. 

I am still sword-fighting self-doubt on a regular basis. My experiment with autonomy is a daily win. Every day I have that feels good is a win that rebuilds my self-trust. There is a silent erosion that happens every time you don’t listen to your heart. I can’t forget this lesson from the alchemist – over time, the less you listen to your heart, the quieter its voice becomes, until you can’t hear it at all. And then, it takes time to learn how to hear it again. Patience is an important part of the process.

When I lost my job at the studio last year, I couldn’t hear my heart at all. I was burnt. There are some dark days behind me, days where I wondered what happy people are like. In the in-between, I found joy in the seemingly small things – a phone call from a friend, a trip to Starbucks, paying my bills on time, making music without pressure. 

To my amazement, big things happened too – I opened for Tommy Wright III on Boiler Room, to the tune of 5+ million subscribers on YouTube, and 2+ million followers on Instagram. The grammy-award winning Boo Mitchell himself adjusted my mic for that set. I’m still trying to wrap my head around that.

Then I was invited to Crosstown Arts Writing Camp, a rite of passage for the successful artists of my city. I found community in like-minded creatives, talented BLACK people (I can’t tell you how exciting it is to see black people happy and thriving in our elements). 

I struggled with the sudden boost in visibility to be totally honest. Going from deep isolation to being witnessed in my embodiment by my city was a LOT for my nervous system. As someone who has seriously struggled with anxiety, and chosen not to medicate with alcohol or drugs or even prescriptions, I really applaud myself for going raw 😭 I’m talking hot tea, journaling, prayer, bible scriptures, leaning on friends and family – that’s how I’m regulating through the madness.

I gotta say, even though I haven’t solved the PTJ loop yet, or figured out how to get electrolytes, it feels good to be in the in-between.

And remember folks – close enough is GREAT.

– ZD 💗💋

check out my mood song for this post,