Chaos with Cait

I wake with questions settling on my skin like the morning frost, after a cold night’s freeze..

Change doesn’t ask permission. Change bangs at the door until you remember how to open it.

The path is crooked, but my breath still makes music on the climb. With each step, my lungs decide the tempo even when life claps on the wrong count.

I have been wandering the edges of who I used to be, enjoying a tenderness I almost remember. The silence has grown soft around me, almost kind, therefore I no longer fear the echo of my own steps. Instead, I am eager to take them. Somewhere beneath the doubt that has haunted me, something small is stirring. I feel my pulse, strong as ever. I hear whispers that sound like maybe. Maybe I am not lost, perhaps I have only been waiting to remember the way back to myself.

The moon does not judge my shadows. She creates them, then teaches them how to be gentle. My shadows follow me not as burdens, but as proof that I exist proof that I am only human. And what I fear in them, the moon calls honest.

My soul has a thousand names, but today it answers to wonder.

Somewhere inside me, a wildflower refuses to die. She keeps blooming in every season wild beautiful And mysteriously.

I don’t know the ending, but the beginning keeps unfolding beneath my feet. And I don’t care if the only applause, comes from me.

Hope is really just fear, that learned how to keep walking. So I started moving and then started dancing. Before I knew it, I was skipping and laughing.

Somewhere, my younger self is dancing barefoot in the life I built for her.

My mind breaks open, and everything, all of my thoughts rush in at once. I pray I make it to safety in time.

I am learning how to move again, how to breathe without bracing. I am learning how to open my hands again after years of holding nothing but the weight of surviving. The storm has passed, but my body sometimes still listens for thunder.

I have this craving, but my hunger is different than most. I ache for palms that hold the fragile. I hunger for laughter that spills over, and for kindness that is served without suspicion. I wonder each day when dinner will be served.

I am learning that joy doesn’t need a reason, only a little space to land. So I have accepted a new job, at emotion air traffic control.

Letting go is an alchemy, the soft undoing of what bound you the exceptional transformation of ache into awe. Letting go is a slow transmutation in the chambers of the heart, where what once weighed heavy begins to lighten, where the old sorrows lose their sharpness, and the self you thought was broken learns again to breathe in its own brilliance.

My boundaries are not walls, they are doors, that I decide who walks through. I do not leave myself easily accessible I like to know a persons motives and intentions.

I am a shadow wearing a name that no longer fits. I drift through the days like a ghost searching for her skin, touching mirrors that never answer back. Everyone says come home, but I don’t even know where that is anymore, or if I even deserve to arrive. Some nights, I wonder if being lost is the closest thing I have to belonging.

I rise, not because I want to, but because something inside me whispers: try again. The sheets on my bed still smell like sorrow, my bones still carry yesterdays problems. But I peel my body from the couch like bark from a broken tree. My mind says hide, my chest says fight, and my legs tremble with the ache of choosing life one more time. So I brace myself. I drink water like it’s salvation. I step into daylight half afraid, half hopeful, yet all becoming. I catch my breath,

Dream a little dream. Hum the tune of a song. Feel what you need to feel, that is what we are here for.

There is a cage inside me, iron bars built from expectation, from silence, from the heavy hands of those who told me how small I was allowed to be. But, my bones remember flight all to well, and my lungs remember wide horizons. Every inhale of mine is rebellion, every exhale, a plea to let me out, let me out, let me out. I am a restless river, I am a storm untamed, I am the rusted lock already breaking at the seam. I want to feel the wind carve its wildness into my skin, I wa