Music Journal - 01 Introduction / Wide Awake
This post marks the beginning of an ongoing Music Journal series I’ll be doing.
A little over two years ago, I started going to therapy and spent more than a year and a half trying to communicate my feelings, thoughts, and experiences verbally. Despite the work, I struggled to put a lot of what I was carrying into words that felt accurate.
On impulse, I eventually turned to an AI tool called Suno to bring lyrics I had written about my late sister to life as an actual song. Hearing those words exist outside of my head, with structure, tone, and weight, made something click.
It gave shape to feelings I could not quite name and made it easier to bring them into the room with my therapist in a way I had not been able to before.
This series focuses on the lyrics I have written, the thoughts and emotions behind them, and how listening to these songs has helped me acknowledge and accept those feelings instead of trying to push past them.
The songs themselves cover a wide range of subjects, from navigating neurodivergence to processing, accepting, and living alongside grief.
So, let's get into the first song and begin exploring together.
Wide Awake
[Verse 1]
Mind’s a storm I can’t contain
Every thought a moving train
Scanning faces, reading tone
Building maps I can’t postpone
Every room’s a battlefield
Every glance a hidden shield
I rehearse before I speak
Perfect mask, but seams still leak
[Pre-Chorus]
Never slow, I’m always turning
Every nerve is always burning
Hold my breath to feel control
But the noise still floods my soul
[Chorus]
I’m wide awake with my eyes closed
Running the loops that nobody knows
Calm on the surface, a quake underneath
Carrying waves I can’t ever release
[Verse 2]
Rules I made that twist too tight
Every flaw’s a signal light
Every sound cuts razor-thin
Every thought just pulls me in
I predict the next three moves
Plan the words I’ll never use
Even rest is running laps
Even joy has hidden traps
[Pre-Chorus]
Never slow, I’m always turning
Every nerve is always burning
Hold my breath to feel control
But the noise still floods my soul
[Chorus]
I’m wide awake with my eyes closed
Running the loops that nobody knows
Calm on the surface, a quake underneath
Carrying waves I can’t ever release
[Bridge]
Every second, scanning, shifting
Signals crossing, layers lifting
You call it focus, I call it fight
It’s keeping guard through every night
[Final Chorus]
I’m wide awake with my eyes closed
Running the loops that nobody knows
Calm on the surface, a quake underneath
Carrying waves I can’t ever release
I’m wide awake with my eyes closed
Running the loops that nobody knows
Built like a wire that’s ready to fray
Still holding on, still locked in the sway
About This Song
Wide Awake comes from a place I have lived in for a long time.
Growing up in an abusive household meant learning early how to stay alert. My mother’s behavior, my parents’ divorce, and being split between two homes with stepfamilies and constantly changing dynamics taught me that safety was never guaranteed. My sisters and I learned to read the room quickly, to adjust, to anticipate, and to stay ready for things to shift without warning. Eventually, that kind of vigilance stopped feeling like something I was doing and started feeling like who I was.
Autism and ADHD added another layer to that. My brain already processes more input than it needs to, and trauma turned that sensitivity into something sharp. I started scanning voices for tone, faces for small changes, replaying conversations after they happened, and rehearsing what I would say long before I ever opened my mouth. From the outside, it can look like focus or awareness. From the inside, it feels like never being able to fully relax. Even quiet moments can feel tense, like something bad might be waiting just out of view.
This song sits right at the overlap of those experiences. Trauma keeps me braced. Neurodivergence keeps my thoughts loud and fast. Together, they create a feeling of always being on, even when nothing is actively wrong.
Writing Wide Awake was not about fixing that or putting a neat explanation around it. It was about being honest with myself about where these patterns came from and how they still live in my body and mind today.
Listening Back and Learning to Slow Down
Listening to Wide Awake has given me a way to notice myself without immediately judging or fighting what I am feeling.
When I hear the lyrics back, I can recognize the moments where my thoughts start tightening and speeding up. The scanning, the rehearsing, the bracing all become easier to spot when they are reflected back at me through the song. It gives me just enough space to say, “Oh, this is happening again,” instead of getting pulled all the way under by it.
Over time, that awareness has helped me understand something important. I do not need to survive like that anymore. Those habits existed for a reason. They helped me get through things that were genuinely unsafe. But they are not rules I have to keep following now, even when my nervous system tries to convince me otherwise.
The progress has been slow, and it has not been linear. There are days where I feel calmer and more grounded, and there are days where I slip right back into old patterns without realizing it at first. Listening to this song does not stop that from happening. What it does do is help me catch it sooner and be a little kinder to myself when it happens.
Wide Awake is not a cure or a breakthrough moment. It is a checkpoint. A way to pause, take stock, and remind myself that being constantly on edge is something I learned, not something I am required to carry forever.
Closing Thoughts
This song still feels accurate to where I am right now.
Some days I catch these patterns early. Other days I don't notice what is happening until I am already deep in it. Both happen, and neither feels surprising anymore. Writing and listening to Wide Awake hasn't fixed that, but it has helped me slow down, notice what's happening, and be a little more honest with myself when it does.
Panic Nation has also played a big part in that. Having a place where I can say the impulsive thing, talk things out, or just exist without constantly watching myself helps me let off some pressure without it being a volatile reaction.
Anyway, thanks for getting this far. 💚 Bubba