I Miss Me More.

My current jam right now is Kelsea Ballerini’s – Miss Me More and I think everyone should listen to it because it’s pure brilliance.

I love this song for so many reasons. Let me start with my obvious section of… Heartbreak.

When we go through heartbreak, and we all have – don’t even try and play me son, music can be one of the worst things to help the process. At least it is for me.  When I listen to music it’s to put me in a mood, but when I experienced my first true heartbreak back in high school, I learned, no matter the “mood” you’re aiming for, every single song seems to somehow be a love song. No matter how you look at it, there is love.

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That leads to dwelling on feelings, sadness, pain, and being unable to “get over it.” What I liked about this “love” song is that, while it’s definitely about my girl Kelsea going through heartbreak, she is taking a different approach to her pain. In turn, when I listen to it, I’m like, “Yeah fuck you bruh! This shit hurts, but you don’t deserve me (and all that shit).”

My follow up feeling is, “Damn girl you is fuckin’ savageeee!”

I just really like that she acknowledged that like whole concept of we had something and when it ended it hurt, like it should, but I miss who I was before I was I was with you more than I actually miss you.

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It’s an interesting concept in general when you think about it. We are all individuals. When we’re born, we are all different, but the same. We grow into ourselves, we change over time, we experience the nature vs nurture aspects of life. We have interests, opinions, beliefs. We have hobbies, things that make us happy, things that make us sad. It’s what turns us into who we are.

Then comes the fucking feelings and emotions. We fall for someone. We spend more time with them. Whether we want to admit it or not we sacrifice parts of ourselves to be with this person. You may stop spending as much time with family or skip things that were once so important to you just to be with this person. Love is sacrifice.

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Then, to quote Dan Savage, “Every relationship you are in will fail, until one doesn’t.” We just don’t know which one won’t. So when this relationship ends, it’s confusing. Before you, I may have enjoyed bowling every Monday night. Then you came along and bowling on Monday’s became less important because I could do dinner with you on Mondays. Then you’re gone and Mondays are open. Do I go back to bowling? A series of refinding who I am as a person before you rocked my world.

My absolute favorite thing about this song is that, she acknowledges she lost who she was prior, but now that she’s done with the relationship, she is reminded of who she was before him. And she’s like “yo, as much as I thought I’d miss you and who I am when I’m with you, I miss who I am without you far more.”

It turns kind of into a realization that she isn’t going to lose herself completely ever again.  That’s something I can totally relate to. When I start to see someone I can get a little lost in our world. I forget about things that are important to me. I’ll skip things I enjoy just to spend time with that person. I’ll rearrange my schedule just to be with that person. I can’t do that. I can’t continue that cycle, because then when the relationship ends, I’m stuck, trying to get back to who I was.

I never want to do that again. I don’t regret anything I’ve ever done, as they’ve all been learning experiences, but this song reminded me of the importance of self.  The whole concept of a relationship, is partnership, which contains two people – two individuals. I’ll never lose my individuality again.

If reading poetry before bed, going to CrossFit in the morning, listening to podcasts during the day makes me happy, than that’s what I’ll do. If screaming incorrect lyrics to a song I love in the car while playing air instruments makes me smile, than that’s what I’ll do. If going to dive bars and talking to strangers on random Wednesday nights makes me forget about all the negative shit that went on during the day, than guess what? That’s what I’ll do.

 

That’s me. I like me. And if I don’t like me, how can anyone else?

 

 

Sidenote: I mentioned Dan Savage earlier and I just think everyone should follow this man. He’s amazing.

 

The World is a Beautiful Place.

I’ve recently returned from a trip to Southern California to visit my cousin and let me tell you, this trip has reawoken something inside me that I’ve been missing for a long time. I’ve been in a very uncomfortable state for all of pretty much all of 2018, living in a series of constant highs and lows – unable to find my middle ground, but that a story for another post.

Mid January, my cousin was teaching me a little bit about the concept of “Mindfulness” and suggested I download the app to help me in the process. Truthfully, I haven’t been “doing the homework” on the subject, but I understand the theory and it is something I truly want to get into. Essentially, it’s something you work toward when it comes to living in the moment. It’s not easy. An issue I (and many others) have is being fully immersed in the moment. For example, I can be walking down the street delivering the mail on a beautiful fall day, just enough crispness in the air, a beautiful setting sun, the perfect song playing in my headphones, and a pumpkin spice coffee waiting for me in the truck, yet all I can think about is getting out of work on time to get to New Haven for some event and not keep my friends waiting (or some other similar scenario). The idea is that my mind is wandering, thus making it impossible for me to take in the beauty surrounding me.

This trip reminded me of how beautiful the world is.

 

Sometimes, when we’re in the same place every day, we can forget to see it’s beauty. Now I am by no means saying that Bridgeport, CT has the greatest sites in the world, but I remember when I was 21, working on an apple farm (the best job I ever had), driving customers through the orchard in a golf cart. When I’d get to the top of the hill (it was the highest point in Easton), they’d get out and do their thing. I’d grab an apple from a tree, stand by the cart and just look around at the town. I remember thinking one day near the end of the season, “Take this in Caitlin. This is an image you’ll never want to forget.” I wish over the last 6 years that mentality stuck with me. It pops up from time to time, but it’s fleeting.

Ironically, on Saturday night during this trip, I took a few pictures that I’ll share in this post and planned to post it to my Instagram with this caption:

Look y’all, I know I’m just a little lady from the 203, and truthfully, I don’t know if there’s a God or some higher being up there that’s looking out for us, but days like today, I have to believe there’s something beyond us that had a watchful eye in place. Seeing the beautiful sites and visualizing the world as some sort of “happy accident” is just a thought I can’t stand to bear. I haven’t gotten to see too much in these 27 years, but I’ll be damned if I don’t take in every sunrise and sunset, every moment of joy and happiness, and be able to take my bliss and thoughts of content and push it into the world in a positive manner. I’m gonna see the world everybody! I’m gonna do things that scare me. I’m gonna take risks and make big moves. My life is an adventure. A journey and by no means a destination. When the big guy up there takes me back, I’m going to be happy because I’m going to have given this world the best of me and I’m going to have been able to be a part of the best of the world. That’s all I think anyone can ever ask.

Then I deleted it and was going to save the post for when the trip actually ended. The next day, Sunday, I found out about the car crash all my friends were in, which I already wrote about in another post. It’s crazy. Here I am questioning the existence of God or a Higher Power for the first time in years all because of the beauty in the world, while my friends are in this scary, life altering, accident. I truly believe that we manifest our own destiny and there are no such things as coincidence. This however is just something I can’t even think about, it’s been eating at me for weeks, maybe one day I’ll be able to express it better, but for now, I’m going to leave it at that.

 

When you’re surrounded by all this beauty, how can you not take in every moment. Life is a fucking adventure and I want to be a part of all of it. I want to see everything this world – this life has to offer. That is my priority in this life. That is the only goal I have. I want my life to be an endless adventure. I want to climb the rock over high tide, with waves crashing, even thought everyone says not to, simply because I know the view is better at the top, and how often will I get to go to Laguna Beach? I want the water to hit me as hard as it can and wipe me off my feet, simply because the moon pulls harder on the Pacific Ocean causing stronger waves and how often can I experience that?

 

I want to be able to see these things with the people I love. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’m also down for solo adventures. I can easily see me alone in Spain, not knowing the language, taking the wrong bus to the hotel, but ending up with a story. But, being with people you care about has an added quality. I want to (eventually) find a person who wants to take on the world with me, take in the sites, get lost in a town we don’t know, and have the experience of a life time – if only for that day.

 

Tell me I’ve never been happier? Prove to me that this isn’t a smile that just happened because I was in a place I’ve never been, smells I’ve never smelled, feelings I haven’t felt. I work for a living, but I by no means am living to work.  I’d rather live in a tiny apartment eating Ramen and drinking questionable water 11 months of the year to be able to have experiences – real experiences for that 1 month.

 

I never want to forget what it feels like to just sit back and look at water I’ve never seen, put my hand into water I’ve never touched. I just want to take it all in – everything.

I want to taste wine all over the world. I want to eat the finest (and grossest) delicacy each country and each state has to offer. I will do these things, I will do all of them.

 

I want to always be who I am where ever I go. I’m not going to be ashamed of who I am. I’m going to go into each new place, have every new experience as me. Caitlin – amateur cooker – experienced eater/drinker – professional driver – kind to a fault – stubborn – people pleaser – occasionally funny – gay – mail lady.

 

I want to run through every tunnel. Have my toes touch the sand of every beach. See the light at the end of each journey and smile because I know it’s only going to lead me to my next.

 

I want to live in a world where I can have spaghetti grilled cheese sandwiches and donuts that put my C cups to shame.

 

I want to fly to all ends of the world. Hustle thought airports because I’ll be late. Accidentally get on a tram and watch the door close while everyone I’m with is on the other side and I’m alone on the tram (that really happened).

 

I know I said I want a lot in this post. Trust me though, I will. And this post is the accountability factor.

 

 

This is my Southern California experience. Wait till you see the rest…

 

And now I’ll shamelessly post a few pictures of my family that I really liked lol

 

 

 

Dating Apps are the Worst.

Here comes a rant y’all! I’m also half a bottle deep in some white zinfandel, so cut mama some slack.

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So I’m a young, single, lady on the prowl trying to meet people.  I’m also a big old homo, who’s very new to the gay scene as I’ve only come out within the last year. My gaydar is what the kids might call… horrific. So here I am, relying on dating apps.

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Now to understand me, you gotta know, I’m very happy being single. I actually love it. I love not having to explain to anyone where I am, what I’m doing, and essentially being able to do what I want when I want. I masturbate a lot and I am so damn good at it that I’m not sure anyone can even compare. Just stating facts. I hold my hand game high.

However, I’m also a human fucking being. I’ve never been in a truly serious relationship, which I get is kind of weird for a 27 year old, but I just really like to do what I want without repercussions. Don’t get me wrong, their are a TON of things I like about dating. I like having someone to text, someone to talk to about shit that’s somewhat obligated to listen, I like cuddling. GOD DO I FUCKING LOVE CUDDLING. Human contact in general. I love that shit. (I’m such a fucking girl).

 

 

That being said, I’m getting kind of old. I don’t want to be single or short term dating people forever, although I’d rather do that than be in an unhappy unfulfilling marriage for the rest of my life.

You also have to understand that when it comes to dating, I’m kind of old school and frankly, a little conservative. I also fall hard, fast, and veryyyy easily. I’m not necessarily the heart on my sleeve kind of gal either, I’m actually very guarded (I’M WORKING ON IT OKAY). When I start to see someone I usually commit to only talking to only that person because I also just don’t have the time or energy to do more than that. I’d rather waste 1 month attempting to give someone my all and it not work, than to date 3 people for three months with added confusion and pressures for myself.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m also all for a good ol’ fashion one night stand, but even in that, I’d prefer it to be someone I know. I don’t necessarily have to want to date you to want to have sex with you.  In fact, I am 100% for the friends with benefits movement!

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So back to the dating apps. I can tell you with 100% confidence I have literally never met a single person in my life that I’ve had a crush on or wanted more than friendship with right off the bat. I mean obviously I’ve been sexually attracted to people when I just met them, but that’s different.  Right off the bat literally no one has given me butterflies – at least not in my heart, nah mean? I think because even though I don’t show it and I’m incredibly guarded, I’m an extremely emotionally driven person.

I fall for peoples quirks, their confidence, their sense of humor and how it’s tailored into mine.  I fall for peoples passions, their dreams, their work ethic, their drive. I fall for how people see the world, how they see themselves in the world, how they see others in the world. These are all things you don’t get from a first date with a stranger, a dating app, someone you only just met.

I like to start as friends. I know this sounds like it’s a “choice” which I know it isn’t because there are feelings and emotions which are out of our control. That’s just always how I’ve been. Wired that way I guess.

The dating apps can’t give me any of that. If anything I get a minor glimpse into someones personality from the 2 sentence description they give, if they give one at all. A majority of the time I feel like I’m just flipping through a magazine. Comparing perfumes, when a perfume that might not smell as good as another, but it’ll last longer gets overlooked because I can’t smell the fucking perfume. I hate it.

Then comes my next hatred toward it, if not my biggest hatred.  The expectations. I’d say a majority of people are there for 1 of 2 reasons. 1 being a hookup/one night stand/whatever you want to call it or 2 dating, usually relatively serious.  I can’t really pitch to people “I don’t want to hook up on the first date, but if we only make it to 3 and that’s when I want to do it, so be it” or “I’m not opposed to long term dating, but I don’t want it to be expected just because I’m on this app.” No one really swipes right to someone saying, “Looking for friends!”

But that’s what I am doing. Not to sound like a loser, but I really want to be your friend. I don’t want to sleep with you and flirt and buy you shit if I don’t know you (unless we’re just tryna get handsy for a night).

I’ve gone on my fair share of dates from these apps. The way people come into to them is a little different, but mostly end the same. I’ve had one girl who I talk to on the app, that is so funny and witty and alllllll I want to do is meet up with her because she seems like a person I could eventually fall for, and if not that, she’s cool as fuck and I wouldn’t hate a friend, but she always dodges the meet up question. I’ve had one girl send me legit 5 page papers for 3 days making me feel like I was applying for my dream job and then giving me her number to meet up. I’ve had one girl have a lot in common with, talk on the app normal for a week we exchange numbers after a week and then it’s all flirty (which is fine I like playfulness, but like it was 0-60 real quick). I’ve had girls give me their numbers to meet up and never actually follow through. I’ve asked people to meet up and the conversation end completely. I’ve had people tell me their life stories in the first two messages, I’ve had people where talking to them felt like pulling teeth. I’ve had so. many. tongue. emojis. and to that I figure, roll with it. I work on my sexting skills. Get riled up, flick the bean, and call it a convo.

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Point being that when I meet up with them, a majority of the time, the date could go well, but I’m just not 100% into dating the lady. I have a 3 date rule, where I’ll see anyone at least 3 times and then decide to continue or cut it because I don’t think you can get to know a person well enough in less than that, but anything more than that is getting too serious to not be sure and I’m not down with fucking with peoples emotions. Unless of course they’re a total dick or have questionable morals on the first date than it ends after the 1.

I just have this problem where, why is it expected to be a date. I’ve rarely talked to someone in a class and then hung out with them outside of class under the context that it’s a presumed date. I mean I’m also scarily oblivious so maybe they did think it was a date, but at least I’ve seen this person, talked to this person, laughed with this person. I’ve literally never done any of that with these bumble bitches.

Then comes the issue of when we meet and I’ll be honest, I’m a pretty good freakin date. I’m always willing to pay, if I don’t offer first. I always try to split if they insist. And finally, here is where my arrogance comes in, I’m good at making people feel good. I laugh a lot, I smile a lot, I talk a lot. I ask questions, I’m invested, I listen. I can see why anyone would think it went well. (As long as I don’t have to call them out for being a dick). Yet, sometimes, there isn’t even that spark in the sense that I know we won’t work. We don’t have similar goals, we don’t have similar life plans, we don’t have similar ideas of what’s fun.

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Prime example. One of my most recent dating app dates was with a lawyer who had the same name as me, spelled the same and everything. The narcissist in me had to meet her because I thought it’d be hot to date someone with the same name as me. I’m not going to deny getting off to the thought of me. I think I’m a catch. (I sound like such an ass right now, blame the wine). Anyway, we talked on the apps and she was so fucking smart. Such a turn on. Averagely attractive, not in a negative way, but in the kind of way that she didn’t really try to hard with her appearance and still was good looking, but most important to me, she was kind. With everything she told me, she was kind.

So we meet up for coffee, I get there first, grab a table, tell her where I am. She gets there, I’m a gentlemen and bought her her soy green tea latte, I had a black coffee. We hung out for like maybe 90 minutes. I can tell within the first 20 minutes that I don’t think we’ll work out, but we can definitely go out again. I say this because I am literally driving the conversation to an unbaringly rough point. Every silence, I filled. Every question I asked, gets a short answer, so I fill it in with my own answer and a story on top of it. I chalk it up to her having nerves.

As this “date” continues I know for a 100% fact this girl and I will never work. Our goals are different, our ideas of fun are different, our pasts are just too different. Then at about 10 o’clock she says something like, “Well I think we should head out it’s getting late.” In that moment I know we won’t line up romantically.

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Maybe that’s selfish of me. My best dates that I’ve been on are the ones where I literally lost track of time. It’s happened on first dates, second dates, all sorts of dates. My best times spent with someone are when I don’t want to go to sleep because I don’t want to stop listening to the sound of their voice. When I don’t care if I go into work exhausted the next day, running on 2 hours of sleep because I was laughing way too hard with the person I was with the night before. That’s not even to contradict myself in the sense of friends first, but that’s what I mean. Up until recently, when all my friends decided to grow up, we’d do exactly that, obviously with no romance involved, but that’s what I’m looking for in a person. I want to be your friend before I want anything from you. That can play into why I’m guarded or why most of my best friends are from childhood. It takes so much for me to give myself and my life story to someone. There are only 2 people I’ve dated that are still in my life, so if I told every person I dated my life, that makes my stomach turn. It’s no longer personal, its no longer me giving someone a piece of me. My friends know my shit because they are in my life for the long haul.

That’s why I want someone to be my friend first. Maybe that’s another insecurity I carry. If someone knows who I am, what I’ve done, good and bad, all of me, and still wants to date me, than I’m ready for that person.

I drifted.

Aside from a lot of other things she said on that date, I just knew. But at the same time, I did like some of the shit she was saying. I wasn’t opposed to hanging out again, but it had to be known that it wasn’t a date.

So when she texted me the next day, I was told by literally everyone, I had to ignore it. Anything else would be leading her on. Teasing her. Playing with her emotions. And that’s where my problem lies. She could’ve been a friend. Not one I’d hang out with very often, but maybe if I wanted to do a book club or go to a paint class, I’d hit her up. (I’m very well rounded). Just not if I wanted to do karaoke till 2 am, PR my deadlift, play pool with strangers, dance like an idiot to Journey, do the “Dougie” in the middle of a busy street, make a music video, go on adventures.

That’s what she wanted though – a person to date. Friendship isn’t something that was thought of. That’s why I hate the apps. I have soooooo much more to offer people than being their girlfriend or sex. I’m kind, I stand up for people, I’m funny, I want to bring out the best in people. If you only want that when it comes with a label, than frankly, it’s your loss.

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In closing, the apps serve their purpose, and I get that. I just kind of wish as an adult, we had the interactions with people that we did in our younger years. Or before technology, when it wasn’t weird to talk to someone at the grocery store and try to meet up in the future. I just hate, hate, did I say hate? – the expectation that we have to date, have sex, or be nothing.

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Car Rides and Late Nights

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One thing I’ll never understand are people who don’t like to drive. I know we all have our fears, our likes and dislikes, our fetishes.  There are morning and night people, sweet or savory people, winter (vomits) or summer people.

But to HATE car rides and driving is mind boggling to me.  I’ve grown somewhat of a personal attachment to driving. I remember my 16th birthday, sleeping by the fireplace in my childhood home, alarm going off at 6:15 AM on a Sunday, so that my mom and sister could take me to the DMV to get my permit.

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Driving has always felt like safety to me. I understand that there are bad drivers and many dangerous aspects to it.  Hell, right after getting my permit I recall one of my mom’s friends telling me how when she was my age and got her license, it felt like someone was handing her a loaded gun. However, I always felt strong and confident behind the wheel. I am in control. I am in charge. I am the person who decides where I am going.

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I’ve made some of my biggest life choices, had some of the most deep, meaningful conversations, ended up in some of the most peculiar places, and had some of my greatest thoughts and ideas come to me just because I decided to go for a ride.

I’ve had my biggest laughs, most outlandish performances, and greatest cups of coffee with friends simply because I said, “wanna go for a ride?”

Over the years, I’ve had many different cars, they all have a special place and significant memories for each stage of my life within my heart. When each one of these lovely lemons decided to take a lap around that big racetrack in the sky, it truly felt like I was losing a friend. (Now you can truly understand how much I value time spent in a car).

My first car was “given” to me by my Nanie. A true gem.  The year was 2007 and it was a 1991 Buick… We shared this car and then one happy day, the weekend of Junior Prom, an elderly man ran a stop sign, dented the wheel, thus totaling my little antique. I’d had my license for about 2 months at that point. It was a devastating blow.

With the money from the insurance on that car, a family “friend” sold me, by very definition, a lemon. I guess what can I expect for $1,000 car. This car was in fact the worst car I ever had the pleasure of driving, yet it gave me the most pre alcohol memories, while simultaneously providing me with the most near death experiences. Life man. That fucking car died at every stop sign/red light. It died in the middle of the 27A connector (mama kept her cool). It died just before going into the tunnel on the Merritt Parkway S. That car gave me patience. Just stop. Breathe. DEEP BREATH. Breathe again. Count to 15. Turn the key. And with that, keep on truckin.

After selling that hunk a junk to some moron, I bought my baby. My 2002 Hyundai Senata Hatchback. My angel. I didn’t know how much I loved that little nugget or how much bliss it would bring me. That car drove my friends and me to Nashville and back. That car experienced So. Much. Vomit. That car brought me road trips, my first ticket, casino rides, heart breaks, ice cream excursions, getting lost, and eventually tears. I won’t deny crying when she had to go. I drove that car to SCSU 4+ times a week. I made emotional mixtapes to destroy myself. I came out to myself (and then took it back) for the first time (and second and third) in that car. I became me after all the long nights, deep thoughts, and tears shed in that beautiful, piece of shit, car.

When the transmission went on my sweet little angel, I was at a crossroads.  Continue the path of physically damaged cars to coincide with my emotionally and mentally damaged self, or make a big move.

Mama made a big move.

For years I fantasized about my dream car. A four door, blue, Jeep Wrangler. After much research, many conversations, a HUGE debacle at Milford Jeep, I finally got it. My dream car.

Logically speaking, it made sense. I was 24, single, more than ready to mingle, and had no plans for a family for easily 6-10 years. I work hard, save, and rarely do things for me. This was for me. My dream car. While it took a few months to accept her as my own and move past the heartbreak of my Hyundai – I did. (RIP Hyundai – always in my heart).

I’ve already made so many memories with this sweet gift from the high heavens. I’ve had many talks, with people and also myself. I invested in me. *I’m truly hoping to avoid vomit in this one*

My long derailed point is that often we rush things. We don’t sit, think, contemplate. We aren’t willing to get lost in the process of finding ourselves.

Whenever I’m feeling contemplative, drained, or sad, my go to is to grab my keys, a coffee or soda, and blast the appropriate playlist, while only taking left turns just to figure shit out. Don’t rush the process.

Often time people will text me, “Where are you?” or “What are you doing?” I’ll respond with driving around. At first people don’t get it, they think that maybe it’s weird. But it’s my yoga, so to speak. It’s great to do things like this. Clear your mind. Think. Make choices. Write it down.

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The thing is though, while I often use this as a way to help me, it’s also a way to help my friends. People that are important in my life. It’s amazing to find people who can take in the views or even the silence with you. You can’t do that with just anyone.

There are times I’d go for a ride with friends, get back to their house, and instead of go in, we just sit in the car and talk for hours.  Confined spaces can be soothing when surrounded by the right people.

To be able to drive continuously or find a place to park, late at night, when the world seems dead, lower the music, have no distractions, but each other – that’s how you get to know someone. Hear their thoughts, dreams, passions, opinions. What’s stressing them out in the past, present, or future. Just to listen.

The world is ALWAYS moving. Our brains are subconsciously moving at 100 at all times. Our hearts constantly racing. To keep the car moving so our minds can stop or to stop the car and speak our minds, that’s when we get to slow down. Talk. Learn. Listen. Discover.

To me, this is my place, my world. Not everyone can do this. For me this has brought me closer to friends, family, and self. It brings in such an emotional intimacy that I can’t truly explain. There is nothing I find more unbearable than giving a ride to someone who just doesn’t talk, or sits there awkwardly, or you’re forced to discuss whatever One Direction song that’s being over played on the radio.

Confined spaces, that’s where it all comes together.

Namaste… behind the wheel.

The Call.

I’m just going to start this off by letting anyone who reads this know – this isn’t going to be funny. It’s going to be very serious, probably a little “rambly”, and coming from a strong emotional state so bear with me.

There are few calls we expect in our lives that we know we’re going to eventually get. Those calls that no one wants to ever receive. The loss of a parent, an emergency hospital trip for a child, a random health issue for a spouse.

Today, I received a call.  A call that no one wants to get. A call that happens, but I never expected would happen to me.

You see, this weekend was the weekend for a friend of mines bachelorette party. I’m not in the wedding, but my two absolute best friends on the planet – matching tattoos – never find another like them, friends are in it. Along with other long term, close friends, including the bride. I was invited to the bachelorette weekend, but had to decline because I had already planned a family trip to California this week.

My friends and I made jokes about how they were stuck in the cold, it was going to snow on the East Coast, I should be forced to be there, but noooo I chose sunny, 70 degree, snowless, California.

It seemed normal, aside from my confusion with the time change. I would watch their snap stories, check their instagrams, see all the fun they were having. Truthfully feeling a little jealous of the memories they were making without me.

I saw on many of their stories how the snow caused their party limo to be stuck on the side of a road because the road was shut down.  Knowing my friends though, they made the best of that situation too. I told my family and other friends who weren’t there about the limo. We were cracking jokes about their situation.

I’d noticed no one snapped in a while.  My texts weren’t being responded to. Again, I thought nothing of it.  I mean, my texts weren’t anything spectacular. Maybe they were living in the moment instead of snapping, there was a significant time change, and they were all likely hungover I assumed.

Then it happened.  The Call.

I want to preface that everything could be much much worse. I’ve actually seen it be much worse, but I’ll get to that.

The Call.

It was about 4:30 in sunny California.  My emotions were all over the place as they’ve been lately. I was driving with my family to meet my cousins to go take out a Duffy Boat. It was going to be a great night. Then I get a call from one of my two best friends. I almost send it to voicemail because I’m in a car and thought that it’d be weird to answer. But, this friend and I never really talk on the phone so I say F it and answer.

She gets right to the chase.

Emily: “Cait, before I say anything I want you to know everyone is fine.  “Sally” doesn’t feel comfortable talking about it so don’t mention it, “Jen” doesn’t want anyone to know yet, and “Alice” doesn’t want anyone to know what she did”

Me: “ok…”

Emily: “Last night, our party limo was stuck on a road and the driver decided to do a 3 point turn to get out of it.  There was a car coming, he was going really fast, especially in the snow, and he plowed into the limo, he t-boned us. Everyone is alive Cait, but it’s really bad.”

This is a call I never thought I’d get. This isn’t a call I should get. My friends are all great people, they contribute to society, they have well paying jobs, they work hard and party very infrequently.

Me: “Jesus Christ, how is everyone, what happened?!”

Emily: “Well I kind of blacked out, most of us have concussions. “Sally” saw the whole thing, she wasn’t drinking. She’s really scarred, she banged her head so hard on the windshield. “Jen” was screaming the whole time at the guy that hit us. She kept screaming “you killed her!” because “Alice” couldn’t find a pulse on “Mary.” She started doing CPR until the ambulance arrived. “Mary” broke her back in like 3 places. “Karen” was really messed up. She lost a bunch of teeth. Her face was covered in blood. I had to take off my clothes to apply pressure to the wound. There was just so much blood. Everyone is banged up, those two are still in the hospital, but the rest of us are going to be ok. It was scary though Cait, horrific.”

That’s the call I got. Here I am. Pining over minuscule things in my day to day life. Thinking about the girl on Bumble who won’t message me back when all I want to do is meet her. Taking in beautiful California. Not wanting to go back to work this week. Questioning why this post didn’t get that many likes on Facebook.  All the while, unbeknownst to me, I could’ve lost every friend that means the world to me, friends I could not live without, friends that are more than friends to me, all in one clean sweep.

I could’ve been in that limo. I should’ve been in that limo. Timing was the problem. I could’ve been sitting where Mary and Karen were sitting. I could’ve been where Jen was, causing her to be closer to Mary and Karen, causing her to get hurt as well.

My friends all saw something, experienced something, that I’ll never know.  All I have is this call.

This call is enough for me to put my life in perspective. To stop worrying about the social media, to take life less seriously, to truly experience things.

When my cousin was in college, ironically the one I came to visit in California, he went out with some friends on a snowy night in New Haven. He was supposed to go back to the dorms in the first car, but chose to go in the second. The first car got into a horrific accident. Some of his friends died, some have lifelong injuries. He made a call – to my mom. My mom had to go to Yale Hospital at 4 am to help my cousin because his friends were dead and dying, he could’ve been dead or dying, but he ended up going in the second car.

I don’t know how to feel.  I just know I needed to type this out.

I know I feel fragile. I know I feel helpless. I’m the mother to my friends. I’m the one they call when they need a ride, when their car broke down, (before Uber) when they had too much to drink. I’m the one they look to when they need someone to be strong. I’m the one who will lend money out whenever times are tough. I’m their protector. I feel like I wasn’t there to protect them.

I feel small.

Physical vs Mental Health: The Weight They Both Carry

Ahhhh! It’s January! So you all know what that means – New Year’s Resolutions – or more specifically, everyone in the world essentially, joining gyms and meal prepping.  Don’t get me wrong, I 100% root for these people! I really fuckin’ do! I hate when people are all, “Let’s see how many of you make it to February” or some shit like that.  Like my dude, these people got goals, why you crapping on that? This shit ain’t easy!

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Speaking from experience, on the whole weight fluctuation – to my highest point in 2013 (greaaat times…) to finally hitting maintenance somewhere in 2015, this shit really sucks! And yeah, I’m gonna hold a grudge against people that never had to be fat! Trust, I respect that you never used food as a source of comfort, but for some us, that just wasn’t the case.

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For someone of an oversized stature it takes immense courage and bravery to make a life change.  I remember the days, fearing to enter the gym because I was afraid someone would post an unflattering photo (FUCK TECHNOLOGY), talk behind my back, or call me “just another New Year’s Resolutioner.”  Same would go for ordering food. Going out with friends and ordering a salad, getting sent looks from across the table as if I’m Judas himself.

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I’d done it all.  Weight Watchers, low carb, starving myself (which led to binge eating), even attempting a vegan diet (Fuck. My. Life.).  But guess what yo? These were all just temporary solutions to a much larger problem. My brain was hella’ fucked up.

Which leads me to my next point, the ever so fun topic that everyone treats with the utmost respect (eye roll)… mental health…

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These two coincide enormously.

Once I got myself to a more realistic mental state, I worked on the why’s of how I got so big, how’s, and the what the fuck am I gonna do about its? My mental health is what made my physical health attainable.

I realized, Caitlin, you ain’t dropping 20 pounds this month. It’s unhealthy, unattainable, and unrealistic. It’s a set up for failure. Accepting that was tough.  I wanted the quick fix, which just wasn’t going to happen.

I’m not going to lie, I’m hella proud of how far I’ve come.  I lost over 100 pounds, maintained a healthy weight for over 3 years, and have more physical and mental health goals than fitting into a certain size pair of jeans.

I want to be stronger, mentally and physically. I just want to constantly improve on me.

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Dear World…

That being said, let’s get fuckin’ dark.

From about mid November to mid January, I was in a bad spot. Mentally. A lot had been going on in my life. Things I wasn’t used to. Things I tried to brave on my own. Things I didn’t want to talk about with anyone. Things. I tried to put on a brave front and to be fair other than one person in my life, no one would’ve known what I was truly going through.

My mental health was slacking. I’d finally “come out” to the world (even though everyone who mattered to me had already known), I was looking into moving out of my parents house, and work was brutally killing me due to the holiday season.  I had many more added stresses, which at the moment, I’d prefer to not get into.

Long story short, I wasn’t eating.  Every time I ate I had a pang of nausea. I would either physically vomit  what I had just eaten or barely eat because the nausea was unbearable.  Yet, no one knew.  I mean, people would comment on how little I ate, but it wasn’t too noticeable, especially since eating with company created a huge distraction to my problems.

I put on my happy fuckin’ smile, listened to peoples problems, helped where I could, and essentially, was me. Strong. Always strong. Forced to be strong. However, other than my one person I confided in. No one would’ve know what was happening with me.

Soooo I lost weight, a lot of weight. I’m talking in Christmas to my birthday alone I dropped easily 15-20 pounds.  It was noticeable. Thankfully, due to my average build it looked like I was just losing weight and not suffering from an eating disorder – but it still wasn’t healthy.  My mental health was seriously effecting my physical health.

And here is the sick part.

Everyone was complimenting me.  “Wow Caitlin, you’ve lost so much weight.” “I want to be on your diet plan.” “You look amazing.” Then everyone would get “mad” at me for having a negative reaction to their compliments.

Trust me, living a majority of my life as a big girl, I get it. Fat=Bad; Skinny=Good.  You’re telling me I’m skinny, why am I reacting negatively? Because I know it wasn’t healthy. But how do you tell someone that? Why is it shameful to have a mental health issue? And then I’d feel like shit for having my problems. I was literally consuming about 500 calories per day because my mental health was causing physical fucking pain.

I don’t blame anyone for these “compliments.” They’re doing what society has taught them for years. I just wish that it was different.

I wish that mental health was talked about more.

I wish I didn’t have to go through what I was going through essentially alone.

I wish I wasn’t always forced to be strong.

I wish I wasn’t so guarded.

I wish I wasn’t complimented for being “healthy” when I was so unhealthy.

I wish therapy and self help wasn’t so frowned upon.

I wish I didn’t mask my pain with a smile and a beer.

I wish society didn’t base someones worth on their jean size.

I wish we could all look in the mirror and be like “Damn Mami, you lookin’ fly!”

I hope for a day when all my wishes are a reality.

 

 

Why?

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Hey everybody (or nobody), the names Caitlin and I’m here to discuss, vent, and overthink a variety of topics.  Let’s start with the basics.  Why now? Why am I starting to get into blogging now?

First of all, I’m hoping this is going to become a blog where people share or interact with my content, but realistically, I’m aware that this may just end up becoming a public journal consisting of the nonconventional thoughts of a possible sociopath. I’m taking a small chance here, while understanding that some people may just read what I write, scrutinize or mock my thoughts, kind of like a Live Journal. Anyone remember Live Journal? Live Journal was fuckin’ lit! But we digress…

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Blogging is something I’ve always enjoyed.  And I’m definitely not talking about my Tumblr days where I’d waste time reblogging pictures, gifs, or funny videos. I mean “real” blogging where people share thoughts or ideas, giving others the opportunity to interact with or cyberbully them. Also, I figure, why not take a chance? I can be a 27 year old, gay, mail lady taking a chance on writing a successful blog, or I could be a 30 year old, gay, mail lady who spent 3 more years locking in my thoughts, feelings, and emotions causing mental turmoil and irrepricable damage to my psyche.

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I remember watching a video once where someone on Taylor Swift’s “team” was discussing how talented she was. The interviewer asked something like, “What do you say to people who say she can’t sing?” And the interviewee responded with, “Her talent goes beyond singing. Who can just sit down and write a song because the feel like writing a song?”

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Now, I’m not saying I’m Taylor Swift, but I’d happily accept her paycheck.  However, I really believe we all have something to say. Thoughts come in and out of our minds constantly.  Our brains are always moving, yet, most of the time we don’t sit back and reflect on what’s happening inside our heads or we hide our opinions behind what we’re “supposed to think.”

Personally, I have thoughts, quotes, phrases, “what’s that from?”‘s running through my head more rapidly than than a heart monitor attached to a shot gun wound victims chest. Working alone for most of the day will do that to you. And then I’ll think about it, overthink it, forget about it, then think of it again. An endless cycle.  It’s not always bad though. It gives me time to reflect on my thoughts or statements on whatever audiobook, podcast, or song I’m listening to at the moment.  I love to text my cousin or call my friends to hear their take or have a discussion on what I’d just heard or thought of. Take feedback, learn, grow.  That’s how we become better people.

I’m taking back my voice and seeing what others have to say (or not say).  Maybe I’ll get something great out of this or maybe no one will even see it. Who fucking knows…

“But blogging is becoming a thing of the past Caitlin, why not try vlogging or something in that metric?” (no one has said this, but I assume it is a possible question).

My answer is simple. My man, Richie Crocco didn’t talk about my vlogging skills for years to come at good ‘ol Kolbe fucking Cathedral.  He talked and used my writing to show the youngins how shit was supposed to be done.  My college essay was a work of freakin’ art.

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Also, expressing your feelings and thoughts is a truly healthy form of clearing your mental state.  Not everyone has the ability to write a poem, paint a picture, or sing a song, but we all have the ability to form sentences and try to construct them into paragraphs only to bear your soul to strangers. Words are just so expressive and to limit them is absurd. We should use as many words as possible. Learn them, study them, and fucking use them!

Writing is also a form of venting. A release. It assists in the positive progress of mental health! I personally have had my run ins with mental health and didn’t always seek out the healthiest of ways to go about it. I’m working on it… Life’s a journey bruh, not a destination.  Every single thing in your life takes effort, consciously and subconsciously, so I’m just gonna take it for the ride.

And in the mean time, just gonna try to be the best possible version of me I can be.

 

So sit back, pull out the reading glasses, tip back your evening brandy, and enjoy.

 

Final Note: Mama wouldn’t hate if this turned into a side hustle, attempting to retire by 55 nah mean? You can hit me up on Venmo, or nahhhh.