Hello and welcome! I’m cat. I’m a mother and a reader and a writer. Thank you for being here, really. not living in brooklyn, ny.



Thursday, January 11, 2018

I feel tightly wound, as if I might burst if I stub my toe or the toast burns. 

These are symptoms of a larger problem: not knowing the future.

I feel like I'm drowning. Anyone else out here trying to swim with me? 

I feel ashamed that I'm unraveling. I had several phone calls today where I lost my shit and cried.

My chest constantly feels tight. 

I feel scared. I feel unsure. I feel like screaming. And sleeping. 

I feel happy and calm and boppin' listening to Brother Ali's "pray for me." What would we do without music? 

I feel like I constantly need to take a deep breath. 

I feel like I need to make some changes. 

I feel helpless. 

I feel hopeful (that's the music coursing through my body.) 

I feel like I have to unload This, thus this. This is my deep breath.

I feel like my 30's shouldn't be like this (read: still not together.)

I know should is a pointless word. I am where I am. There is no should. 

I know tomorrow will come. 

I know I have people who love me

(I feel grateful down to my toes for those people.)

I know we will be ok. 

I know there are worse things than living with questions about what's next and where's next? (none of us actually knows what's next, anyway) 

But still, I feel like I need to cry while I tap my foot. The irony has a sense of humor: it's actually in this space of surrender and beauty where

I feel most alive. 

Instagram is the worst (or: I'm often at my worst when on Instagram)

Instagram is the worst (or: I'm often at my worst when on Instagram)

The bathroom reader

The bathroom reader