Remember that one time I wrote a post called “welcome to MY crib”?

Yeah, that was a fucking joke. I’m moving in 7 days.

Long story short, I waited around in hell, living between 2 shit-ass slum-lord apartments for about 5 weeks. Prior to that, I slept at my neighbors, and prior to that, I slept in my apt, mostly in the living room, and watched as my wall continued to deteriorate.

I have had no peace of mind for…70 days. Barely trending above water. I did it though. When you have no other choice, you just do it. Unfazed. Numb. Defeated is also an accurate word.

Three days ago, I was given an ultimatum by the management of Slumlord Inc. Hilarious, right? You’re giving ME an ultimatum? Anyway, I either had to move apts permanently and pay the SAME amount of money for a SMALLER apt, pay MORE money for a different outdated apt on their other property, OR I could GTFO in 12 days.

Oh, and I had 3 days to decide.

So you’re telling me I waited around for how long for you to blindside me with an ultimatum? WHY AM I ALWAYS BEING BLINDSIDED?

I wonder what life would be like if I wasn’t facing every single obstacle on my own.

I’ll probably never know.

Team of one. Let’s not even go there.

Anyways.

Team of one found ANOTHER apt. Let me tell you, it is beautifully renovated. Found it yesterday. Deposit went down today. Every emotion I held in for the last 70 days poured out. I called my mom right after I viewed it. I sobbed because I was so happy and relieved. She kept asking “what’s wrong?” and I just kept saying how relieved I was. This was it. Through my sob I told her how it had a washer and dryer, that every appliance was shining, central air, maintenance who is friendly and receptive. They paint the hallways and replace its carpeting. Which honestly blew my freaking mind considering the building in which I am squatting right now. Always, the small things. Upkeep. I didn’t know what I had been missing. I lived like shit in a place that was literally harming every aspect of my health, and they could not have cared less. On a human decency level, that hurt.

Anyway, I’m really looking forward to this next step. It is hard to trust or to get too excited, but I hope this experience proves me otherwise. I cannot fathom the fact that I’m moving a 16th time, but I have an incredible pack of friends and family coming to help. That says enough. That’s all that really matters in the end. I’m lucky, too, not just a bad luck magnet.

So, wish me luck! Yeah, on the move, but also in court. That happens July 2nd.

Fucking me over is the last thing they’ll ever do. 💋

I won’t lie, that title was really hard to type.

28 may not seem old to some people, but hell, it’s the oldest I’ve ever been. I haven’t allowed myself much time to think about it, and it’s not exactly something I am wanting to celebrate.

When people see me, I’m sure a lot of them see adventure. I do, too; however, I also see a lot of wasted time. I was directionless for quite sometime. I was in relationships I shouldn’t have been in. I expended a lot of time and mental resources on things that would inevitably fail me. I had too much hope in people who would ultimately let me down.

This is the first time in…for as long as I can remember…that I feel like I’m back in control. That the world is actually my oyster. That I can do anything and be anything I want to. It’s invigorating and scary.

I’m out here on my own, but I can do this. I’m wiser now.

I wish this realization didn’t come so late, but I’m thankful it came at all.

Here’s to 28. It’s time to erase the last ten years and ensure the next ten are exactly what I’ve needed all along,

[[[Life Event]]]

She finally lives alone.

I now have a complete understanding of when people say that you have to experience living by yourself. I am experiencing the phenomenon and it is beyond ideal.

This was my 15th move since my parents divorce, and I have been on the run every 6-9 months since. This transience was fun for a while, especially in the mid-west. But at 27, it officially got old. Life had changed so much, as it always does, and I didn’t know where ‘home’ was or what it was supposed to feel like. I wasn’t feeling that sense of comfort I had known when I was young. However, I’m now beginning  to feel it again. I really get to make this my own. I have an opportunity to make this a place of comfort, peace and contentment. This was long overdue, but I’m finally feeling ‘at home’.

6 hours ago I was about to have a mental breakdown. In fact, I may have had a small one. Right now, though? Right now I am B E A M I N G .

Let’s start from the top because it’s important to keep in mind my initial mental state. This week began like a steaming pile of ____.

Aside from my deteriorating not-so-romantic relationship, the perpetual grief in my family (as a result of GUN violence), the intense 12 credit philosophical centric semester (barf), & that my freaking grandma won’t answer the phone (ugh!!), I have been informed that…dun dun dun…

D  R  U  M  R  O  L  L            P  L  E  A  S  E

Roommate #2 is rollin’ OUT.

Can you believe it? I can’t. I can’t believe I’m typing it either. I mean, seriously, I thought I was done with all of this. All I’ve wanted since moving back is stability – in any aspect of my life. About to throw in the towel here.

& let me tell you, the aftermath has been nothing less than dramatic.

In short, yesterday, I was informed of the possibly of it having to happen because of tuition dilemmas. Today I find out that they have a new place to live. Yes, you heard correctly. Best part? They tried to throw the reasoning on me. Nice try, grl.

Despite understanding, there has been hostility spewed at me, like I’m somehow an integral piece of this massive mid-semester inconvenience. Like I have nothing better to do than readjust. Yet again, my apt was online before I even knew a thing.

Keep Kait in the Dark 101. Well, you got an A.

Y’all, I’m done with roommates. Hear me? DONE.

ANYWAYS – it’s been less than ideal, especially on my mental state, and I guess the excessive, I mean super excessive, chest pains aren’t a great sign either.

*insert mental breakdown*

BUT WAIT!

So tonight after my Qualitative Research blah blah class (I literally have no idea what’s going on) I decided that I’m going to D.C. to see Conor play music because 1. it’s my favorite thing ever/therapy, and 2. I know that Joanne and Bill will def be there. #famsupport. Then Marianna decides to join me, aka I forced her to buy a ticket. THEN Jenna and Kyle decide to come. Before I know it, I’m surrounded by SO. MUCH. LOVE. I mean, I was literally screaming because my heart was so full. It was the fullest hour and a half I have had in so long. I know I’m just gushing over here but it’s so important for me to remember that a lot of the times it’s the little things, the quick things, the spur of the moment things, that provide the most joy/value/happiness.

I don’t know what tomorrow will bring, and I honestly don’t want to know. But as for tonight, I’m set. I’m so lucky to have beautiful humans in my life.

Just a quick reflection before the clock strikes twelve.

December 31, 2017

I was in Longmont, Colorado. I didn’t have a whole lot going on, but a few days ago I had an informal interview with the University of Colorado, Boulder for a research assistant position. Within 48 hours I would find out that the job was mine and my start date was mid-January. This job was the resume boost I had been waiting for before I committed to applying to Graduate School. So instead of raging, I sat next to the fireplace and started writing my first personal statement. Actually, I had a completed draft by ~1:30am.

December 31, 2018

One semester of Graduate School is completed! A lot of ass was kicked to get here. I had a LOAD of fun and adventure out in Colorado, and met many incredible people.  I am feeling very gracious and content. While the end of 2018 was unkind, I’m trying not to let that define my year. Here’s my recap! Cheers to doing the same shit next year!

I know some people are hurting this holiday season and I feel for you. Just know that you’re not alone.

It’s about that time of year where I get off social media because, no offense, but I just don’t care about your beaming families and 30 year traditions.

For me, every year has gotten progressively less traditional. Nothing is forever, as we know. Growing up it was me, mom and dad. We’d see each set of grand parents and then head home. Then my mom’s mom died when I was in the fifth grade. Christmas then became a visit to my dad’s parents, but it was still a good time. The three of us, my grandparents, and my two aunts.  This is was the lil fam squad for all holidays and I have some really fond memories. Yes, we were small, but we were tight and I was happy.

Since 2010, my one aunt moved out of state, my parents divorced, my grandfather died, my aunt moved back, I moved out of state, my grandmother went into a nursing home, and I moved back. This little family was torn in so many directions, but it was all pretty “normal” life stuff.

But now William is gone. William was my mom’s life partner of seven years. He was it for her. But, he was murdered right before Thanksgiving.

I cannot wrap my head around the fact that it’s been over a month. It has been the biggest whirlwind of my life. I tired to pull it together for my finals but inevitably I took an incomplete for a class. I was totally vacant for at least two weeks during school. I had no concept of time and no perception of reality. Same with my mom. I was with her a lot, too. That’s all that really mattered to me at that point.

So apparently Christmas is 2 days away. No idea how that happened. I haven’t bought anything for anyone. I think it’s because I now realize that things don’t matter. Things don’t make a difference. My mom has a house full of things, but she’s still sad. I have an apartment with things in it, but I’m still sad. William has a home with his things in it, but he doesn’t even get to enjoy them. If he was still here we would all be a lot happier. That’s all I can think about.

So this Christmas my mom will probably be really sad, and apparently I’m sad, too. I just didn’t realize it until I was sitting in bed this morning and thinking that this was day 3 of being home and in bed. I think some people call that depression. Lol. In addition to sadness, my dad went out of state for the holiday and I’m essentially without a partner. So, my mom and I will have breakfast at my aunts, and my grandmother, two aunts and I are going out to lunch. Quite the change from my past, but I’m still trying to be positive.

In the future, I’d like to start something new. Nothing over the top, but something that I know will happen every year–a tradition. While I keep putting myself in situations that will prevent me from having such thing, I hope one day I allow myself to create something authentic with my own family. I always imagined that eventually I would be able to invite both of my parents and their partners over, and have one big family holiday, along with my own family. I honestly thought that would be obtainable at some point in the future, but when William died that small dream died, too.

This time last year I was in Colorado and I was happy. I was just about to start the grad school application process. I was flying home with a heavy suitcase full of local booze for the family and life was too fucking good.

This year I may be sad in some areas, but so far I have straight A’s in grad school. I have one final left to complete and I need a 93 on it to get an A in the class. (so wish me luck!) I’m really thankful for an amazing MPH program, an incredible cohort of BCH students, profound professors, and friends that brought me dinner, sent me care packages, called me to see how I was doing, and everything in between. A special shout out to my new roommate is insanely kind, drinks tea with me every night, and helped me clean up cat shit last night when I was about to have a mental break down. You are -the- best.

On that note, I need to get myself together and head to the big city.

Happy holidays.

This morning blew. But I honestly didn’t expect anything else. Nothing went as planned, but then again it never does when we try this. It was as if someone had physically shaken me for 60 minutes and then threw me on my feet to walk. There was just no way. I lost it driving up 95–I couldn’t even see. My eyes were flooding and last nights mascara was falling into them, and that shit stung so badly.

I pulled it together shortly after realizing that I could very well crash my car from lack of vision. Driving down RT 1 I thought, I want to see my grandmothers house, or rather, what was my grandmothers house.

In the late winter of 2016, the power in her vacant house tripped, and the electricity never came back on. Her pipes broke and her entire house was ruined. Water ran for 3 days before we knew what had happened. I remember getting there and hearing a waterfall from the second floor onto the first floor hallway. Dad and Lana were already on the move, pulling things out of the house and laying them outside. After processing what I had walked into, I joined them, stomping about franticly in soaked tennis shoes.  We emptied what seemed like half the house onto the lawn, and just like that, it started to snow. I remember how cold I was, how sad I was. The walls were splitting and swelling. The basement, like a shallow pond. The only place that felt like home after my parents divorced was gone.

I drove down her road wondering if had some developer torn it down. Or if there was an ugly brand new cookie cutter house sitting there. Maybe two ugly brand new cookie cutter houses sitting there staring back at me.

As I approached it, I saw new furniture on the screened-in porch which sat on the side of the house. My jaw dropped. Someone bought it? Someone bought it and fixed it? Someone else saw value in it. Tears started to roll again. I was beyond pleased. All of my memories flooded into my head. My regret ever moving out came back, too. Every holiday, cookout, homemade dinner. The times when I would drive over there to shovel her driveway before she was even awake. Goodness, I missed it all.

I was now on my way to see her. When I got there she was tired. She didn’t want to eat. We talked a little. I wanted to tell her about her house, that someone made it beautiful and livable again.

But the thing is, she still doesn’t even know it flooded.

She quickly fell asleep. That wasn’t unusual. She’s been holding on for two years at this point. It was just another day, really. I don’t get too sad about it anymore because I don’t allow myself to think about her reality. Today, however, was a little different. I sat there on the bed and looked down at her sleeping. Even when she sleeps she looks like she’s in total discomfort. It’s like she’s frowning. I got sad. I bit on my lip to snap out of it, but inevitably the tears came. God damnit, if only I could do something to make her feel total joy one last time.

I thought about everything. I missed time with her; dinner dates, baking, talks at her kitchen table. How she would tell the same stories over and over again without realizing it. Like how she met Pabo and how he would show up at her house in the middle of the night because he hadn’t had dinner–his mom had left the state and his dad was an alcoholic. I thought about how nothing feels like home anymore. I wanted to be back in her house on her, what seemed like, 40 year old couch with my head on her lap, watching who even fucking knows, like Shirley Temple or something. I thought about how she’s been there for every achievement in my life. I thought about how I always pictured her at my wedding. Her only granddaughter. Her only grandchild. I wanted her to be here to finally see me well on my way. I wanted her to feel proud of me. I wanted her to witness me being proud of myself. I wanted her to see me so genuinely happy. I wanted her to be able to see that I was going to be ok after she was gone. I can’t even give her that. So, I put up a front for her. I have to be strong. After all, she is the one who’s 89 lbs and in a nursing home.

No one knows what has happened to me. I don’t know what has happened to me. But I screwed up. My young self never pictured my life this way at 27. My family straight up asks me if I’m done wasting my twentieth decade yet. I’m laughed at, questioned, mocked. I laugh back, too, but it’s really just to cover my own disappointment. Disappointment–the embodiment of disappointment. & I am so, so sorry.

*Update: My step-dad ended up getting murdered this day, but we didn’t find out until the following day, November 19th. It’s mind blowing how badly life can blindside you. I was upset about my grandmother one minute, and gutted from something completely different the next.

RIP, William.