Mrs. Trunchbull, Go Home You’re Drunk 

If you saw my Instagram caption last night I told all of you that I’ve been a bit silent lately because I’ve been going to see a therapist. She’s been helping me sort a few things out. She’s a riot that lady. She laughs at my inappropriate jokes about just about everything that’s mildly serious that comes up. One minute I’m laughing so hard I’m crying and the next the tears are actual tears and I’m all up in my feelings about everything. If that doesn’t say I belong in a therapists office, I don’t know what does.
We’ve been peeling back the layers I struggle to address on my own. It’s been nice to have help. Kind of a relief really but it’s been so fucking hard.

I was on my kitchen floor, sobbing so hard my chest ached. Like needles in my lungs every time I tried to catch my breath between heaves. The room was spinning, the floor was cold, and all I could feel was hopelessness.

I tried to steady myself before the churning room made me sick so I collapsed onto my side, touched my cheek to the floor, and closed my eyes.

“How did I get here, again?” Tears collected again in the corners of my eyes and pooled on the floor below my face. The thoughts were swirling in my head, “I tried so hard. I did everything I could. How did I get here?”

That was the dream I had the other night, a flash back from a night in 2014 I remember all too well.

I sat up in bed, hot tears rolling down my face. All I could think was, “How did I get here again?” This time it wasn’t a failed relationship with a partner who bullied me but it was my own devilish voice backing me into the same corner I spent all these years trying to crawl out of. I know now more than I did then (Amen for that, I was a train wreck ladies and gentlemen). Back then I ran, I moved home and left the whole life I was building in Pittsburgh behind me career and all because I couldn’t bare to sit in the pain of failure. If I couldn’t see it, then I could close the chapter and move forward like it never even happened. And guess what? That’s what I did. My four year relationship didn’t take but 3 weeks to get over. Seriously. I was buzzing around like a bird with new wings. What I wasn’t doing was addressing the fear and pain, not of losing him, but losing me for so long. The real me. The emotionally messy one. I will not make that mistake again. That’s when I decided to find help.

I have found strength in admitting I’m more tired than I’d like to admit. I’ve found some of the pride I moved so fast to plow over while trying to “build a life” out here. ** Here’s a secret… if you’re trying to build a life. Stop trying and just start living a good one. One that you’re proud of claiming and one you’re proud of yourself for allowing the grace in creating. 
I have unwrapped the work I buried for so long. The pretty little neatly wrapped box I have put the honest parts of me in. The wrapping paper reads “Get your shit together.” or “If you just keep running, you will trick yourself into thinking you’re getting somewhere.” My perfectionism, my control, my judgement, my harsh tone of my own voice. She reminds me of Mrs. Trunchbull from Matilda stomping around making a racket and being a huge bitch about everything that feels like anything inside my head. My head hasn’t had feelings in awhile, and my heart stopped begging a few months back too. I just packed it deep inside my brain in a shiny bowed box acting like I’m fine. The stinging behind my eyes gets swallowed and stomped down because “crying isn’t productive, and entrepreneurs, doers, bosses, CEOs don’t cry they just get shit done.”
I don’t know what it is, all this, but I know it’s not fine….yet. I’m just taking one day at a time winging it with the best intentions. Getting up every day gathering up the best of me, throwing it at a wall and seeing what sticks. I still have a long way to go but damn is that going to stop me from trying and if you’re reading and relating to any of it. It shouldn’t stop you either. There is enough damn wall for all of us. We are powerful beings and we are worth it. Say it. Right now. We are worth it.

I literally made a print out for myself that is taped on my bathroom mirror and my fridge.

“You are allowed to be a masterpiece and a work in progress, simultaneously.” Thank you Sophia Bush. “Mental toughness is believing, without a doubt, that whatever happens, you got this.” – Tim Grover and “You can’t beat the person who never gives up.” – Babe Ruth.

Make yourself a damn print out too. Post that shit everywhere because damn it, I’m so effing tired of this pity party. Are you? Can we own it? Fear and all? I’m sure as hell going to try and who doesn’t love a good, solid community of people not willing to throw in the towel! Wooo! …Okay… coming down a bit now. But for real:

I’m scared all these dreams doing whirlwinds in my brain will never get started or done. I’m scared I’ll never amount to anything I truly want to be. I’m scared of being alone. I’m also scared of losing myself if I let other people in. With all this fear hanging out around me, the more I sit with it, I don’t know what the answers are but sitting here, staring back at fear. It’s not going to win. Giving up is just not what I do. I hope it’s not what you do either. We are in this together now and forever.

Love you all. Xo

Cait

 

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