Yeah IDK

I woke up shocked that it’s possible to have this much anxiety with my life as free as it is. Legit confused, and angry at myself for having anxiety when I have nothing that can give me anxiety.

And what’s sillier is that it took me until now, four pm, to write it out and chuckle to myself. Remember how I don’t have a job? And my dog is getting stranger and stranger with all the transition and new people; her erratic behavior has me on edge. And I have no income. And I am starting a creative project that I am fighting embarrassment of –

I didn’t really process how much of myself I critique through some Hypothetical Other who thinks I’m an idiot.

I went to a baby shower for a friend from undergrad today. She has always been excessively kind and wonderful and warm to me, and yet I spent a full hour trying to settle my breathing, talking to myself as I showered, found clothes that were nowhere near feminine or nice enough to fit in, and gathered the gift. I ended up 20 minutes late, which made absolutely no difference for the event but had me clenching my teeth on the way in regardless.

Today’s reminder from the universe that I Am Okay was going to the coffee shop a mile from auntie’s for a cold brew before the drive to Traverse City and seeing another friend from undergrad behind the counter. She remembered me by name and we chatted about life and artistic endeavors and she radiated a warmth and safety I desperately needed in that moment (thanks, girl!)

I am expecting my 30s to be easier. This first two months has felt like someone picked me up by my feet and hasn’t turned me right side up yet. I am being stubborn as fuck about finding work: I’m Not Even Looking. I’m both paralyzed by the fact that I have no income AND heels in the ground determined to not do something just because it’s there, just because it’s reasonable. I am at some mental crossroads that right now is a mix between a dust storm and a hurricane.

Caroline, the fuck you doing?



I have been in the states for two full days, and I feel whole.

On the long way home, on two or three hours of sleep, convinced I had a mild fever and a cough reminiscent of my old chronic bronchitis, I called Sally. She said, "Caroline, are you okay?" "I'm sick." "Yes, but are you okay? Your voice sounds strained…" and I burst into tears, they poured off and on through the entire next flight, journaling page after page.

The flight attendant on my second flight, who's name I don't know: I ordered a vodka ginger ale and held up my card.

I got you girl, he smiled

I burst into tears again. A minute later I heard a man's voice behind me asking if there were cough drops available, not for him, for me. It wasn't a nice kind of question.

I have a little bit of money and a lot of energy. Having no job, no home, no strings except the most beautiful dog who takes me running and curls into me at night – I expected it to be more scary than this, but no. There are so many people to take care of me.

First Katie, picking me up from the airport and putting me into bed, surrounding me with dogs, driving 15 minutes out of the way so I can have an egg mcmuffin at midnight, going to our favorite diner in the morning.

In a fit of financial terror, and because I know I want to move far and pack lightly (again), I sold my library on Facebook. In 12 hours I made a sizeable lump and felt my heart warm with the loves I get to distribute my favorite possessions to. I posted a whole ton of shit on Poshmark; I put my furniture on Facebook. This is real.

Then Em, my heart swelling being in her presence. The creative energy palpable. I came here yesterday and already have such a sadness to go. Her most perfect house, her calm kindness, her excited crafts, her plans on plans. In her home my dog and I are safe and loved. In her home I can have no job, can paint and paint, can study Spanish for two hours in the morning, can go for a three-and-a-half-mile run around the park nearby.

I am savoring, savoring. I am so blessed. I am so loved.

There is magic coming. I am inspired and energetic and for the first time in so long I'm Not Tired. Last night I felt like a child on Christmas Eve, down to sleep by 11:15 but a racing mind under after three: I journaled, I read, I brainstormed, I redownloaded duolingo.

I have goals and ideas and energy.
Something is going to happen.

(PS Logistics: started Celexa more regularly again, started a face routine to get rid of the acne I acquired in Mexico, am extremely serious about moving to Mexico City. Yes.)

My Summer Vacation

It's 4:24am and I can't sleep despite all efforts. I'm drinking gin and listening to east coast rap waiting for an appropriate time to get off this IKEA couch and find some coffee.

This trip is everything.

I am and have been struggling to determine What Happens When Caroline Is 30. We know she quits her job, she shaves her head, she gets a handful of new tattoos, she pierces her nose, she goes to Central America. She brags.

I cannot understand or believe how my life worked out so that I got invited on a backpacking trip as a fourth wheel to three best friends, my only connection being One Day In LA with one of them. Why have I been blessed so? Why did Martin determine I was a person worth inviting? It's a pretty serious What The Fuck situation, like the time I moved to rural Arkansas and the time I quit Graphic Design cold turkey.

I've been told this is liberating and it is. I feel no commitments to anyone. I feel largely lethargic and ambiguous about most of my life. I feel vaguely interested in determining what to do aside from outstay my welcome on couches I can't sleep on. I feel vaguely compelled to start Doing Art (the fuck is Doing Art? Also how long have I talked about that same compulsion? idk, 10 years. Shrug.)

I don't understand how, but I've fallen in love with all these people I've been traveling with. We've cried together so much the past few days, reminiscing and fearing Deaths of all these People We Love. Here comes August (the birthday of the dead mother) and then follows September (the deathday of the dead mother) and that means that starting about two weeks ago I go into a bit of a frenzy, remembering and not remembering and talking and not talking.

I'm in a blissful haze of my body refusing to sleep and savoring these last few hours. I loved Honduras, El Salvador, Nicaragua, Costa Rica. But y'all, Cuidad de Fucking Mexico: I'm moving here.

I decided. Might take a hot minute to actually happen, but real talk: Caroline will be living in Mexico shortly. ✌🏻