Ghosts

There’s not enough words but too many words.

Writing.

I’ve been writing letters. Letters of my thoughts that come and go. Thoughts that linger. Thoughts that become a little too consuming. I used to never know what to write to people, even though I love getting letters myself. And then a friend sent me a letter a few months ago that was just like we were sitting together at a quiet little coffee shop having a conversation, and it made me realize that I didn’t have to have a point to writing. I could just write my thoughts out and send them. Maybe people will receive it and feel like they can exhale a little deeper. Maybe they will read them and think I’ve gone completely bonkers. Maybe the letter will fall in the cracks of their home and they’ll find it years from now, reread it, and chuckle to themselves about that time they received a letter, out of the blue, that made no sense but they saw someone’s soul a little bit more that day and smile.
I don’t know. But the thing is, I have also stopped caring about how people view me. How perhaps me sharing my soul might be a little too uncomfortable for some to witness. I may never know how my letters made people feel. If they ever even read it. If they rolled their eyes and immediately crumpled it into a ball. They may never acknowledge it. But I will send them nonetheless.

I have stopped knowing how to forge and maintain friendships. Losing Natasha did that. I struggled with it my whole life but now the knowledge has wholly dissipated. In most relationships I have felt like I had to either expand or contract into places and roles I never was meant to fit. And since finding and subsequently losing her, it feels more as if I don’t fit quite right into any friendships. But I’m trying. I’m trying by reaching out with no expectations. Sharing my soul, entirely rawly. I no longer have the capacity to move slowly into building relationships with people. I’m here, a leaky mess, who loves intensely, and is done with trying to speak in half truths as to not scare people away from me.

Also, I love you.

*Content Warning*

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[Image description: a journal page titled, “Content warning” and dated 02/24/2021. It reads, in cursive,
“I do not understand
the ‘hows’
When it comes to
*content warnings*

For I am just speaking
-about my-

lived experiences.’”]

I understand the “whys.” I just cannot comprehend, when speaking on my own life, when it would be deemed necessary for me to give a “content/trigger warning.”
This is just my life. The life I have lived. The life I have survived. The life I have carved out for myself.
And to me, my brain cannot fathom why I need to warn people about the things that have happened to me, were done to me. This is just a part of my story.

*Please note I am not being flippant towards the reasoning behind people putting these warnings. It’s just a thought that has been rolling around in my head this last week that I’m trying to unravel and make my brain know when would they be necessary or appropriate because I would like to not affect people adversely if I can help it.

-Katelyn

Acknowledging.

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[Image description: A photo taken through a window of the evergreen treeline at the edge of a property. There is a woodpile, covered in a black tarp, capped with a few feet of snow. You can faintly see other houses between the trees.]

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about how much people seem to struggle with acknowledging when they have messed up in the past. When they have been problematic, when they have unintentionally hurt someone. When they make mistakes in the present.
And look, none of us have all the answers or all the knowledge in the universe. Sometimes we just simply don’t know something. But it’s our job that when we DO know something to integrate it. The saying, “when you know better, do better,” is used so much because that’s the goal. There is no finish line of growth. The human existence is one that is a journey. To acknowledge that at one point you didn’t know better (and still have room for improvement) isn’t a judgement about you.
I am so open about my journey and past mistakes because I’m not ashamed of who I am because of how far I’ve come.
Were some of the mistakes I’ve made (and continue to make) deeply shameful? Absolutely. Do I work every day to try to do better? Absolutely.
If you struggle to be honest about your past mistakes, without having to “qualify” them, to explain away why at the time you chose that path, made that insensitive comment, didn’t know better, I urge you to sit with that. Is it because you haven’t taken the steps since to make it right with actions, not just empty words? Is it because you feel like you have grown enough as a person?
Sit with it.
The more openly you can just accept the ways you were, frankly, a shitty human, a shitty friend, a shitty partner, without having to qualify the WHYS, the more infinite your growth potential can be.

We never have all the answers and we never have zero potential for being harmful to the world. But we always have room to be more caring, more humbled, and more impactful.

-Katelyn

::Untitled::

This last year has cracked my soul completely open and I feel all of it spilling out. Spilling out so rapidly that I cannot possibly grasp it all to shove back in before it floats away in a million different directions on the breeze. And I’ve been here before in this race to not lose every part of me and be left to fill up the entirety of my being with newer versions of myself.

I know how gut wrenchingly painful and exhausting that is, to have to start from nothing. Not having the tiniest glimpse of who you are to go off of in the rebuilding process. No jumping off point. No direction.

Through the loss and discoveries of the last year, they have left me wondering if I can trust my own thoughts. It’s left me with this clawing sensation, one trying so desperately to break out of my chest cavity in order to not be misunderstood. To not be viewed as any sort of negative thing. But a deep knowing that I don’t HAVE to be liked by everyone to be worthy. I don’t have to know that people blindly trust me with their well-being or their best interests because I’m not sure even I can trust my own mind all of the time.

It seems to play tricks on me often. It’s constantly asking me to question every thought, every action, every word that slips past my lips, that there are an infinite reasons I did or said or thought something. That’s there’s an infinite ways any one of those will be perceived. And being constantly driven by morals makes me also question if my set of morals are too big or too small for this world. Wondering if I’m comprehending all the possibilities or depths of it all or if my world stops at a very surface level and it’s the reason why I’m constantly feeling lost in a sea of things too great for my own understanding.

I’m trying, so hard, all of the time. And learning to also be okay with some people not seeing that.

Community Care isn't abusive.

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This year there has been a mass rising against the damage of the colonial and the capitalistic landscape we know as daily life in the United States of America. At this point most are aware of the horrors of billionaires and Jeff Bezos dangerous presence to us all. Yes? We can agree here that his greed knows no bounds? Yes? I get it, I loathe him and what he has created.

So how did we turn the onus from him to low income individuals who are trapped in shopping through Amazon as a means to survive? I’ve been increasingly concerned over the rash of single, white women who are now screaming at those who rely on the discounts given by Amazon just to make it through day to day. Are those discounts available because of the exploitation of humans? Absolutely. Are there any other really viable options for those who are struggling? No.

Switching over products you need monthly to different a company isn’t a simple fix and in the long term, just transfers the problem with the guise of saving the world. People may not have the spoons to give to the process of switching over to a different retailer but also, financially it does comes at a huge cost. For most, it is not about the 2 day shipping, it’s about the money savings. Caring for a family is expensive and most are just scraping by, especially in the age of the pandemic. So to scream at others who are caring for families or just trying to scrape by by themselves, telling them they are selfish and just fine with the exploitation of workers and that they are just making excuses is an exceptionally abusive move in this late stage capitalistic hellscape we are currently riding through.

Putting the stress on poor people to fix the horrors of late-stage capitalism is PEAK privilege.

Shaming individuals for doing what they can to scrape by is PEAK classism.

Until corporations are properly held accountable by the powers that actually control the system, yelling at individuals isn’t going to change the destruction. Individuals, who I might add, that are most likely doing all they can to care for the environment and their fellow humans to the best of their abilities already.

Maybe the answer should be again, re-evaluating the efficacy of some well placed guillotines.

The Infinite-ness of the Universe(s)

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Do you ever just sit and think of how absurd existence even is? Like out of all the pieces that need to fall into place, all the connections and explosions that need to happen to just even exist. All the magical stuff that happens at any given moment, yet day to day life has us feeling like everything is so mundane. Meanwhile balls of fire are flying through space like Mario and Bowser out there having their final battle, space junk is somehow headed back into the earth’s atmosphere, only to be incinerated upon reentry, that atmosphere that also protects us from being swiftly baked ourselves from radiation by a sun that also nourishes us deeply. How we aren’t flung off into the galaxy while this ball of rock spins a thousand miles per hour, yet we somehow stay still. Like, it’s absurd right? And I get it, that subconsciously that can be extremely unnerving to someone. That they search for answers and reasoning to why we are here and what the meaning of any of it is, trying to find who’s in control here.

But I find not knowing and the absurdity of it all perfectly delightful and that in itself, that there may be no greater reason, no rhyme or reason to any of it at all other than to connect and wonder, that’s pure magic.

And for tonight, that’s enough for me.

Resetting.

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The world is so much and while it is often already so much for some of us, most everyone seems to be feeling it. It’s been a struggle emotionally. I go from being okay to sudden and “inexplicably” deep deep sadness. I’ve withdrawn mostly from the world because my capacity is reaching zero and as much as I want to be able to check in on my friends, I just, can’t.

I’m taking today to just be and to notice things that make me have some moments of peace in an otherwise chaotic world.

• The way Joey cried when (spoiler alert) Patrick proposed to David on Schitt’s Creek last night while we watched it.

• How I now have the freedom to stay cozy and warm inside my own home during a snowy day while watching it fall through a window.

• Friends that send me memes or just a text or message to say hi.

• The way Gremlin snuggles up under blankets and inside my sweater with me when the temperature drops.

• How natural a paintbrush feels in my hands now.

• When people support me creating art and reach out to tell me how it makes them feel.

• Seeing my kids feel safe in who they are.

• Replaying Twilight Princess because it’s the best and you can’t tell me otherwise.

• That when Joey’s four wheeler died at work the other day, he made a snow angel while he waited for help to arrive.

I urge you to make a list of things that bring you even the littlest hint of joy right now. While I still feel hopelessly exhausted, it’s a nice reminder.

I love you all.

Being alone

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I’ve always found the world rather loud. Even in its quiet moments, there’s always a hum, or low groan. I’ve spent much of my life alone, first as a latch key kid who have few friends, then as a young mother in an unknown state who’s partner was gone for long stretches at a time at work. This “aloneness” was my choice usually partly because of the loudness of the world, partially because I take a long time to truly connect with people. I’ve never had many to talk to or confide in so my brain is always musing about itself, the world, other people I’ve seen in passing, so it’s never fully quiet.

I learned early on how to be alone rather adeptly. I like my own company. So when I form relationships beyond that, I’m looking for deep connection because if I am going to work on pulling myself out of my own mind, I need it to be deep. Relating to people on a whole is difficult.

I spent most of my time people watching, wondering why it is that people react the way they do, make the choices they make, connect (or don’t) the way they do. It’s a swirling vortex of mazes and labyrinths. Often I spend so much time there, I forget that there is a whole person, and world, I haven’t even truly met yet because my mind has created a whole space in there for the bits and pieces, the little nuances it’s pieced together of them, a whole world beyond I don’t even recognize that I am a part of.

Most of the time it’s easier for me to travel this plane alone or with only the help of my partner. I learned deeply and viscerally that when I have asked for help outside of my nuclear family, when I haven’t known how to proceed it’s often met with shame, with a tearing apart that seems to leave a much more gaping wound than before. So I retreat. I deal with it on my own. I don’t ask for help. And that has created leaks everywhere that I am not sure how to plug anymore.

And while I’m good at being alone, sometimes it gets rather lonely.

Brownie's Last Day

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On Sunday, Brownie started a rapid decline. She started having seizures. One around 1pm and another around 5:30pm, that lasted somewhere in the 5-10 minute range. She was in a daze for a long while after, wandering around the house, running into walls, slipping, going into the splits. Her body was exhausted but couldn’t let go. During the wee hours of the night/morning, she kept waking and trying to wander. In those moments, we had “the moment.” The moment that those who have gone through the final stages of a pet’s journey on the earth talk about, when their companion let’s them know they are ready to go, but their body just won’t let them. She let me know, loud and clear, she was ready but she needed assistance.

After that she fell back to sleep. In the morning, she barely moved, and we took it easy because neither one of us slept much that night. Then again, around 2pm she had another seizure. When she came out of it and was ready to move her body, we helped her with a makeshift harness to safely wander as much as her body told her she needed. When she was ready, she guided us back to the stairs to help her go inside. I told Joey it was time to call the vet. Joey took the call on speaker so he and I could both talk to her, Brownie in Joey’s arms. They would come right away.

After he hung up, Brownie instantly clamored into my lap and I just felt her release. I held her like a baby and told her it was time and that I love her so very much. She sank in. Head heavy, releasing the weight of trying to hold on for us.

We let the kids know what would be happening. I told them I would like to set Brownie up outside and make it a special for her. That they were welcome to be a part of any of it or none of it, depending on what felt right for them. Through tears, they got to work making a beautiful area for her. Lit candles, special painted rocks, pixie dust, flowers surrounding her bed. We set up under one of the giant maple trees in our yard. It was perfect and devastating all at once.

When the vet arrived, Andy, our other dog, from inside the house let out a bark/cry that I had never heard from her before. The vet came and gently explained to all of us what would happen. Leena went inside for this part but Penelope remained. When I moved aside so they could get started, Brownie stayed perfectly calm, ready. She sat up just a bit when the vet tech came in, but sunk into her presence as well. When they took out the clippers to shave a part of her fur to give her the sedative shot, she did not even stir. The dog who at any other time when she would hear clippers would instantly get uncomfortable and try to escape, she sat again, ready.

At about 4pm on August 31st, we said goodbye to our first baby.

One moment she was here. The next she was not and just as soon as the vet came, they left, quietly.

The next hour was spent cleaning her up. Cutting all the little mats in her fur that accumulated over the past several months that she wouldn’t let me clip. Brush out all the little tangles that the process of her body getting ready to cross over left in her fur. Combing out all the pesky fleas that she had because we didn’t want to tax her already failing liver with medicine for them. Using leave in shampoo to clean off the last bits of dirt and bodily fluids that remained on her from her her body shutting down. Joey coming back from digging her final resting place and joining in on the cleansing. All the while surrounded by Leena and her cat, and Penelope and hers. Which normally when outside on leashes want to explore but instead sat quietly with us and next to Brownie.

Once she was ready, I took her inside so that Midna and Andy could have one final goodbye. Andy jumped up on the bed, where I had brought Brownie to show Midna. When she got close, Andy put her nose to Brownie and instantly looked at Joey, heartbroken.

It was time.

I took her back out to the bed we cleaned her on and tucked a butterfly that friends brought at the beginning of summer on one of Brownie’s worst days, the butterfly that left this plane that day. I thought it only fitting it see her through to the next part of her journey. I wrapped her in butterfly fabric, the same fabric we used to help stabilize her only hours early for her long walk throughout the yard, that had been given to me by a dear friend years and years ago. Then as a family, we walked her to her grave and lowered her in. The kids took turns putting in flowers and crystals to lay on top of her body. I remembered I had a special crystal and one of the bracelets from a pair that Natasha sent me sitting in my pocket. I leaned into her grave and made sure to tuck it into her wrapping gently.

We covered her with handfuls of dirt till she was safe. Then Penelope and Joey worked with shovels to fill the rest. Once all the dirt was mounded, we covered it all with rocks and flowers. I turned to the fire pit at one moment and saw the biggest heart shaped rock and knew that Natasha was with us too.

My baby is gone. And I’m just so, broken.

I took a photo before they began because I wanted to remember their kindness.

This. This broke me entirely. I went inside to get the supplies to clean her up after her passing. On my way out when I looked out the dining room window, I caught a glimpse of him, holding his baby in his arms.

This image was from when I went out the next day. It instantly struck me how this Lady’s Mantle leaf that Penelope placed behind some heather wrapped around it like how I envisioned Brownie wrapped in a leaf in my dream of her passing last week.

I love you, Brownie.