I just figured out what the heck I’m here for

– reclamation

Sometimes when you’re too close to something, it’s hard to see the bigger picture.

Last night in the car, I wanted to yeet my husband out the window into I-80 traffic.

Oh my gosh, calm down. I’m being hyperbolic.

Danny kept nagging me and nagging me (it felt) about how Monkey Girl has become splintered. Less monkey than people expect.

Stop musing about random stuff.

Focus.

Tell a cohesive story.

As with most of our conversations, the initial thing that felt off to him wasn’t the thing that needed fixing (or the problem).

My problem was that I’ve gotten so close to the writing, to the pieces, to my emotions, I forgot the bigger picture of why I started this in the first place.

His problem was that he knows the bigger picture. The pieces, the emotions I’ve been writing didn’t seem to fit into that larger picture in his head.

I put the toddler to bed. He fed the cats. We stared at each other over the sounds of the rain noise machine down the hall and the cat water fountain that’s just loud enough to be mildly annoying.

Ten years ago, I would have cried and gone to bed (we’ll unpack that some other day). Last night, I took a deep breath and we dove back in to a conversation that I didn’t want to have, because I didn’t want to admit something needed fixing.

We zoomed out.

He poked. And poked.

And I got frustrated.

I deflected.

Told him he was wrong.

He kept (kindly) poking.

I finally spit out:

I’m reclaiming my story.

And that’s it. That’s the core nugget we’re working with here.

I help authors tell the stories they’re struggling to tell, and now I’m giving myself the same permission.

I’m reclaiming parts of myself I denied for years.

I’m reclaiming my time and my happiness.

I’m reclaiming my romcom that was deemed “not good enough” to be published.

I’m reclaiming my instincts, my passions, and my voice.

I’m reclaiming parts of my life that felt taken from me, stolen from me, and ruined forever.

I’m reclaiming and changing what my life looks like.

I’m reclaiming my freedom.

I’m reclaiming my title as Monkey Girl, because while it feels like I left that part of me behind, in reality, I am that part of myself now even more than I ever was while in the chokehold of academia.

So here’s what we’re doing.

I’m updating my bio. My about page.

I’m shifting the promise here, just a bit.

I’m reclaiming my story.

I’m doing it publicly, and I’m doing it with you.

Each piece I publish may seem random. They’re not.

A love letter to a font isn’t really about Garamond, it’s about how I think, and how the story I set out to tell often isn’t the one that I end up needing to tell. It’s about reclaiming the part of me that likes to muse and wander and discover and see where something leads.

The branding photoshoot that was supposed to be all business? That’s where I reclaimed my perception of beauty, a fragment of my confidence.

This isn’t a linear story because it’s unfolding in real time. It might be messy sometimes. I’m probably going to cry.

I’m definitely going to make typos because this $h!t is really life, people. I’m not an AI bot spouting word salad at you.

I’m probably going to say some things I shouldn’t. And I probably have some stories to tell that I’m not going to like telling, and things you might not like reading.

But all of this is part of me reclaiming… me.

Maybe along the way, you’ll reclaim bits of yourself too.

-Allison

Photography by the brilliant c.m.elle studios.

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