Chaos with Cait

No is a sentence. Yes, is my sanctuary.

I rose, not because I was ready, but because staying down was killing me faster.

Every heartbeat of mine, is a form of rebellion. A gentle declaration that I am not finished.

Even bruised, I believe in the kind of love that does not ask me to shrink.

I am allowed, to outgrow the versions of me that only knew survival. I am allowed, to become a brand new version of me.

Hope is not loud it doesn’t shout its way back. Hope hums beneath the grief like a song you almost forgot you knew, the one your body knows before your mouth does. Until one day, without deciding to you start singing along. And now, a new band has been formed out of you two where time is spent learning how to play what’s left, and what’s next.

Your worth does not whisper, it glows steady like a sunrise that refuses to apologize for burning gold. You are a universe made of miracles. Life was not kind, and still you chose softness anyway. Your heart is resilient, it keeps rising even after being split open. Your tenderness is holy, your strength undeniable. Your existence makes the world lean in closer. Adore yourself gently, then fiercely, the way that you were always supposed to. Because you, beloved, are sacred to

I release the year behind me with gratitude, not regret Truthfully, we survived each other. That I count as a win. I welcome what is coming with open hands and steady breath. Curiosity captures me while I dream about what’s to come next. So I no longer demand answers, I only crave change and the shift of a world I once knew. This new year is not a reset, but a continuation of a woman still standing, Still dreaming up a life worth living. This new year, you can find me revived

I said yes to a slower, almost still morning and finally met my peace for the first time

They told me to shrink, so I became wildfire instead.

I have learned that fear and growth speak in the same voice at first. And only after surviving them did I understand how they choose to follow one another, how they love to coexist with each other two separate messengers, both ready to offer me different things.

Little one, you were never given fair odds. The deck was stacked with empty bottles, missing footsteps, and a body that broke before it bloomed. But hear me, you are not the weight of what went wrong, you are the proof that life can grow in impossible soil. Yes, your mother’s absence left a hunger that still lingers. Yes, your father’s silence taught you that you should mirror him. And yes, your body has carried you to battles that you never asked to fight. But still, you kep

The night keeps secrets for me, tucks them into the folds of the stars and hums lullabies to me. The darkness gathers the frayed edges of my thoughts and smooths them with cool and patient hands. In the hush of the darkness, I can finally breathe deep, and unafraid. The night wraps itself around me like a familiar blanket, soft with understanding, yet heavy with everything I’ve dared not speak. And without question, the darkness listens for me returning each evening as promis

Faith is stepping into the fog, and trusting the ground to rise beneath you. Are you willing?

I am half dream, and half dandelion belonging wherever the wind believes. And wherever my soul should wish.

We are borrowers of sunrise and moonlight, returning them slowly one day at a time. You must try not to forget that tomorrow is never promised And the now is all that we have.

I asked the ocean how she survives the pull of the moon. And she said, “I just let myself be moved.” “Doesn’t it hurt?” I asked her. “Sometimes,” she admitted, “but pain that teaches you to expand isn’t the same as pain that closes you.” She splashed a wave onto the shore like a sigh. “I grow each time I rise. I rest each time I fall.” Then she quietly crept toward my feet on the sand and said, “You, too, are allowed to move this steadily through your own tides.”

Comparison is a thief that cannot enter when you guard your wonder. The thief may claw at the gates, but they do not open. until it leaves in silence, defeated unseen and unheard.

I don’t know where I’m going, but the wind still calls my name. And I choose to follow her freely.

My body is an hourglass each heartbeat a grain of sand. Every moment a capsule of time, a whisper of wind in a waiting glass.