Double Life

I don’t have to hold onto some static version of myself.

Dearest Doodle Soupsters,

Here is the album art I made for my next single, “double life” and the lyrics too —

I don't know what to say sometimes

Feels like I'm living a double life

The me that knows how to live

Looks like she's doing great

Always another side

Always another way

To say goodbye

Goodbye to who I was

Goodbye to who I've been

I'm so tired of being her

So tired of being me

Oh what is it that I'm even trying to say

Maybe the other me would have the words

The past is still so heavy

I feel weightless for a time

And then I realize it still hurts

The little girl in me still fighting

To get her voice heard

Nothing to say, nothing to say, nothing to say

I claim

Nothing to say, nothing to say, nothing to say

I claim

Still hiding what they did

Still hiding inside the walls they built

Cause who will I be I'm free?

There is hope in uncertainty

Yet an opening is still full of possibilities

And I'm shaking

I'm quaking

Cause there's a part of me so traumatized

All she feels is

Immo, immo, immobility

Freeze, freeze, freeze

Hide, hide, hide

Flip side of fear, excitement

Flip side of hope is the terror

It'll all fall away

Crumble into pieces around me

Here I am, clinging to the cage again

Trying to break back in

Cause I feel all this pressure to do

Something amazing with my freedom

And I want to, I want to, I will

Hmm double life

Still trying to make it right in my mind

Hmm double life

Which one is the real me?

Hmm double double life

I’ve shifted into a new phase of my healing. Last night, I had trouble sleeping, wrestling with thoughts zoom zoom zooming through my mental highways, flooring it, crashing into one another, flashbacks, images, projections of my past onto my present … and as exhausted as I felt waking up today, I realized — this is how I felt all the time. A funny way to say I’ve been feeling better, I know … to phrase it as I haven’t felt this awful in a while. And it’s still nowhere near as awful as I felt.

I’m enjoying working. Routine. Feeling more comfortable to travel around the city, be out and about, more social. The other day, I read this snippet somewhere about how when things change, when you change, and even if you’re actually happy about the change, it also means loss. And that’s not bad. Loss is nature. Loss is in movement, in the passage of time. Loss is in letting life be what it is.

I don’t have to hold onto some static version of myself. I can trust myself to grow and change, and be in flux too, knowing that as philosophically complicated as the notion of a self can be, I don’t have to be attached to any one fixed notion of myself or the world around me or other people just to avoid dealing with those pesky complications.

I kind of like the idea that there’s some constant core at the heart of things but everything around that is somewhat fluid. It’s terrifying but also thrilling to see myself and you and everything around me through that lens. Makes me feel a bit untethered yet also so engaged, present, right here. Knowing that on some level, everything is fleeting so be here now. And let it be fleeting.

Of course, I’m not always so zen about change. And my music is often where I pour out my angst and work through the muckiest parts of feeling. Change can bring more than a bit of whiplash. Who am I anyway? Is there a real me? This feels uncomfortable, right? To feel like I’m moving forward, to have that feel good, side by side with the parts of me that are still kind of wrapping my brain around the past 20 years, let alone what’s happening right now. To have hope, side by side with the memories that still rattle around in this noggin of mine, plus all the anxiety about what may or may not come next.

And in having more resources emotionally and physically now to tackle projects and get things done, I’m realizing there’s a part of me too that had to go a bit dormant, put to the side, back when I had to direct my focus toward simply getting through a whole lot of pain. I could call her ambition, maybe drive, my stubbornness to do as much as I can with my free will. Honestly, I’ve felt so much grief and despair over the past few years, wrestling with all those memories, finally ready to thaw all that froze over … to feel this energy, it’s everything. Hope is terrifying, but it’s everything, isn’t it? I’m so scared, but I’m plunging in, head first, full throttle, whatever cliché I don’t know, but it’s amazing. It really does feel like jumping into a pool, early summer, the water’s a bit frigid, but instead of running out shivering in pursuit of a towel (anything warm!), it wakes you right up. Yes, it feels just right, goosebumps and all.

I have plenty of insecurities about sharing my voice, could linger on them, but I’m choosing to dive in. I’m choosing to invite you — come to my show! (Info below, same day as “double life” comes out!) I’m choosing to celebrate even though that trauma thought is staring me down like what are you doing? don’t you want to avoid the threat of disappointment? So be it, I say! Imma live. Because I can. Because isn’t that why I survived and got through all that? Not to play it safe and hide myself. No, to live! To do what I want to do and I love performing, so much! I love writing songs and sharing them. I love singing and playing instruments.

So yeah, I’ll keep channeling my angst, my fear, my confusion, my doubt, my hope, my mixed and messy emotions into music (art and writing too!) because this is what I love to do. I’m awake. My soul is awake. I’m here to share that love for making music and artworks and stories! Join me.

Entering uncertainty (might as well! can’t truly avoid it anyway!),

Nicole Sylvia Javorsky