Chaos with Cait

Life will get fun again, my love. You will find your footing. You will one day soon find yourself in a position you thought only possible in your wildest dreams. Stay, stay faithful.

You cannot control a mind like mine. You cannot stop a soul like mine from shining. You cannot change the way I see. You cannot buy what lives inside of me. I Stand for humanity. I crave equality. I want God’s green earth to flourish not be strangled by the hands of evil, sick, twisted geed. I believe this world could be breathtaking. Not perfect. Not painless. But breathtaking. If the human race could turn inward long enough to truly meet itself. If we asked ourselves how w

You look at me like I am a map that you do not know how to read. But I wonder what would happen if you stopped trying to read me and chose to explore me instead.

Capitalism tried to price my worth. Men tried to name me. Yet still, I answered by existing without shrinking.

Life is unfair. I remember my step dad reciting that same sentence to me when I was a child. During my tantrums because you know, things weren’t going my way. I wish I understood the magnitude of that statement at the time. But I didn’t. In my brain, he was just being unfair as well. However as I’ve aged, I’ve come to understand what he meant. Life is unfair. And maybe that's not something you ever learn to fix. Just something you learn to live with.

The storm didn’t ask permission. Neither did the flowers that found me afterwards.

I cannot grasp the gravity of this loss. I wonder daily why my bloodline must endure cancer that ends so catastrophically. This isn’t fair. Life isn’t fair. I would do anything to ensure that you could still be here. Dana, your love and your light shined so brightly. You touched so many lives. You inspired people in ways you may have never fully known. You will be missed. Today, tomorrow and always.

Tomorrow is never promised. And I, am tired of living like it is.

Buried isn’t broken just waiting for the right sun.

What have you ever done for me besides what the law expected of you? You called it love. I call it the bare minimum.

So, let them. Let them talk. Let them wonder. Let them misunderstand.

I have been working on healing, my very angry and judgmental heart.

I took my last anxiety medicine today. I have an appointment scheduled with a new psychiatrist for friday. But, when I was filling out the paperwork on the app for the virtual meeting, the last page didn’t work, or I wasn’t putting in the right information? So, I don’t know if they accepted it, or if I still have more to finish… -that was my anxiety texting. She wasn’t done. I should have let her finish. I should have encouraged her, to spill all that she was thinking. But, I

Women should be able to walk outside after dark without fear that a stranger’s presence will turn freedom into vigilance. Teenage girls should be able to walk down the street, uninterrupted. Without car horns, without catcalls, without being taught that their bodies are public property. Young girls should be able to exist innocently; to grow, to play, to trust, without being groomed, without being preyed upon. We should not have to learn to survive before we learn how to liv

Some days survival is the only victory. A quiet, uncelebrated act of holding on when the world pulls at you hard.

Anxiety does not arrive with the thunder of Thor. It slips beneath the skin, an unseen tide rising through the ribs until my lungs become strangers and my throat is pulled tight by hands no one else can see. Anxiety for me is a silent strangling, where every swallow feels borrowed. The world begins to dissolve. Colors lose their certainty. Voices stretch into echoes. The floor forgets how to hold me, and reality fractures into sharp, glittering pieces I can no longer gather.

Life is just that, breathtakingly brutal, yet so, so, so beautiful

I liked him because he was weird and mysterious, like me. But with time, I think that I started to hate him for that very same reason.

Some mornings, the sun looks at me like it remembers the day I first decided to stay. Back then, she hovered outside unsure if I would open the door. Now her light waits on my face, bright and warm brushing against the scars I carry, like a soft supporter who never stopped believing in me.

I have fallen in love with the sound of my own breathing. My pulse is something, I do not take for granted.