What Makes Us

“Why are you the way that you are?”

It’s a paraphrased quote from “The Office” but also a legitimate question.

I didn’t spend more than a semester at a time in college. I gave three runs at it, each time with the false sense of urgency that I absolutely HAD to get a higher level education in order to succeed or to be deemed as an “educated” individual. The majority of my biological family has a degree of some sort, and of course, I will never forget the moment I was sitting at the kitchen table at my grandmother’s house, working on homework…My mother, on one of our visits, had showed me an adequate short cut to long division (she was a brilliant women despite her flaws) and whilst working on and asking for help with my elementary math problems….I brought up to my retired, teacher grandmother, the more efficient way mom had taught me to get to the same, correct, answer.

But because it came from my mother, (whom my “Nana” hated) she snapped at me and said, “That’s not how you’re supposed to do it!” To which my nine year old self, innocently responded, “But my mommy said that’s the smart way to do it.”

So in a knee-jerk state, Nana, shouted at me, “I KNOW WHAT I AM TALKING ABOUT! I WENT TO COLLEGE! Did your MOTHER go to college??”

I was stunned in that moment, mostly because I was nine and I didn’t really know the answer to her question.(the answer was no, my mother did not go to college) but also because that was the first time in my life that I began to inaccurately and unfortunately develope the mentality of two things;

1. You could only be smart, respected, and taken seriously if you went to University.

2. I was not allowed to admire or appreciate my ( at that time) distant mother, in front of Nana.

The numbered above, were both pivotal, subconscious, childhood implantations; which, ironically, I would later learn about in my short lived collegiate stints and through the fascination I took up with my psychology courses……..(part one)

“Through Spite Which Strengthens Me”

I am…..incredibly….angry.

The kind of anger that can only come from years of resentment. The kind of anger that is so normal it’s almost complacent. The kind of anger that stems from betrayal, heartache, and a general not giving a fuck.

I made a promise to myself a little over a year ago that I would rid my life of all those who bring me nothing but misery. I promised myself that I would, come hell or high water, put myself in a position where I no longer needed them. A position where I could cut all ties and NEVER look back.

Since I have made that promise I have flowed in and out of the rage that drove me to it. At one point I had all but convinced myself that this quest was one of folly. I thought perhaps I had acted on emotional impulse or lack of understanding.


I was not wrong, because every time I start to think I’m wrong they, without fail, prove me right.

I am one hundred percent justified in my hatred. I don’t care if it’s unhealthy, it is justified.

Although, at the end of the day, I should be grateful, because without the constant reminder from them about how terrible they all are for my mental and emotional health, I don’t think I would be working as hard as I am to fulfill my self promise.

I will now work even harder. I will spend every waking moment of my life continuing to build for myself a platform in which I can achieve my financial and personal goals. I will not rest until I do it while they wish for me fail.

And I complain a lot about how they constantly are watching me or going out of their way to have other people watch me….but you know what? I HOPE they are fucking watching because I know the very idea of me being successful, despite their wish for me to fail, will bring them at least a taste of the pain they have been unloading on me for years.

I know on the surface it’s an unhealthy drive. I don’t care.

I can do all things through spite, which strengthens me.

Heavy Hearted, Heavy Handed.


In the back of my mind, I feel so used

But I allow this painful process every time because I am but a fool for possibility.

Water running down my face

Is the closest thing I get to feeling anything anymore.

I’m an emotional person

Thats why I should be alone

My pointless expectations, I don’t deserve the desires of my heart.

I never did.

How can I be so dense. To think I could be enough.

I never once thought I was good enough.

I still don’t.

I will sleep my transgressions away and be angry that I woke up.

The emptiness of my soul is strangely heavy.

My heart is heavy and my hand pours heavy the liquor that cascades over the ice as if to symbolize the cold and jumbled nature of my thoughts.

I am running out of time.

I can not continue this path if I ever wish to feel valued.

Maybe that is selfish of me. I can be so selfish.

Painful catechisms echoing my broken spirit

I don’t believe in you or me anymore.


There is no passion to be found playing small – in settling for a life that is less than the one you are capable of living”

-Nelson Mandela

I’ve been doing an enormous amount of personal inventory these past couple of weeks. My current state of anxiety weighs heavy.

I still maintain my impeccable poker face in spite of it. I don’t think anyone can see how badly I’m struggling and that is by my design.

It’s always been difficult for me to be honest with even the people who say I can be with them. How do I explain this?

Mental health issues are so very isolating. Mine specifically make me feel the need to push people away. And though I am aware of this, I still succumb to its will from time to time. Convinced that I don’t matter to anyone even though I know I do.

I’m working on this. But the amount of fear I still have in trusting anyone is always looming over me. I’m taking baby steps to go beyond this.

The funny thing is, I make it a point to let the people around me know that I am here for them if they need relief but I neglect that for myself. Bottling up my own emotions while catering to theirs. Ironic.

I don’t need to be loved, it’s nice but, I don’t need it. I need to be heard and understood. But maybe that’s what love is.

Either way I feel an absence in my life. A void I’ve been filling with various and (some) toxic things. On a positive note, at least I am aware of this, which is a good first step to overcoming it.

I have been working on being a better person. A better mother. A better friend. I am proud of these things but I know I still have work to do, and I catch myself slipping back into old habits of negative coping skills from time to time. Self medication and self destructive tendencies still grab hold of me occasionally but I’m better now at seeing, addressing, and stopping it.

I’m not going to lie, my current main source of income can be incredibly draining. I will always have love and support anyone who works in this particular industry but it’s just…..it’s just not something I can do forever. The constant pressure to pretend for someone I really couldn’t give a fuck less about is taxing


It’s work I guess.

Means to an end, and I’ll be glad when it ends.

I’m so close to having the things I want in life. But I have to survive in the meantime and the survival part is tricky.

Oh well.

Covering my hurt with humor and a general “I don’t give a fuck attitude” as usual.

That hasn’t changed.

I think I’ve mastered the art of deflection, whether that’s good or bad, it is what it is.

I look forward to the day where I don’t feel like I need to anymore. Until then……lol.

Here’s to the dark place.





“I’m starting to feel better. More happy, less bitter.”

Woke up yesterday like a boulder had been lifted off my chest. The sense of impending doom was gone and it was almost like I wasn’t sad anymore. No, not almost, I WASN’T sad. It was strange. I had been living in a fog for about a year now and to finally feel sunshine was sublime to say the least. I don’t know what triggers it or tells it to leave but I hope it never does. These elated periods usually go as quickly as they come. But I’m holding on to blind optimism. The same sightless hope that carried me through the “dark period”. It was always there, I just couldn’t see it.

Now I can.

And again, it’s strange, because I still carry that long list of things that bother me around like a handbag of deep disdain, but somehow the deep down feelings for them have changed.

I’m not angry anymore.

Do they hurt me?


But I’m not angry or bitter. I can’t explain this feeling.

Peace? Maybe?

I guess the cliche is right.

Time really does heal all wounds.

And maybe it’s the change of pace because I am trying harder these days.

Going back to school honestly scares the shit out of me like, ” can I do this?”

But that blind optimism tells me, yes I can.

My support system tells me, yes you can.

My friends tell me, yes you can.

I’m telling me, yes you can.

And it’s strange. I should feel sad about a few things.

But I don’t feel sad.

I’m at peace.

To You Who Reads This

I wish nothing but the absolute best for you.

I hope that you are happy.

I hope that you feel loved and appreciated every single day.

I hope you achieve all your goals and then some.

I hope you know you’re beautiful because you are.

I hope that you never feel hopeless

Or useless

Or alone

I hope you know that there is no feelings of animosity on my end

And that I love you dearly.

I hope one day we’ll be there for each other again

Like we used to be

But it’s ok if you’re not ready

I’m still here, cheering you on from the sidelines.

I hope you feel peace.

I hope you feel safe.

May you always feel that way.

Above all, I hope you know that I’m here, I care, and I always will.

Because you were one of my best friends in this whole fucked up world and even though I’m a belligerent asshole sometimes, that doesn’t mean that I am not 100% down for you.

I am.

And I’ll be here when you’re ready.

Bigger Is Better

Friends don’t let friends be petty cunts” 

Here’s to another holiday season. Halloween has came and left, which means, it’s time to cut straight through on to Thanksgiving and Christmas. You know, for someone who is a textbook cynic and non-traditionalist, I have a shockingly large warm and fuzzy place for this time of year.

I fucking love the holidays ok? There, I’ll admit it.

I’m not sure what it is about them really. The food? The togetherness? The liquor? The family? The gifts? The warmth? The……liquor?

Whatever it may be. This time of preparation and anticipation always seems to bring out the bitch in me. I’m not referring to the mean bitch that’s here all year round. I’m talking about the baby back bitch that reminisces and cries and has lots and lots of explosive repressed feelings and these uncalled for light bulb moments of bright ideas on how I’m going to make things better for everyone I’ve ever been involved with ever.

It’s tragic really.

So please, take this post with a grain of salt knowing that I have been emotionally compromised by the prospect of chestnuts roasting on an open fire and the viewing of the 85th annual Macy’s Thanksgiving Day parade.

When I was a kid, I did this thing where I would cry simply at the thought that I may had hurt someone else’s feelings. Yes, I used to care THAT much about the happiness of others and the impact I had on their lives. No, it was not  a  round-about, self indulgent way of making myself feel better, I was eight years old, I didn’t have the capacity for self righteousness. I genuinely, wholeheartedly, gave a shit about other people’s emotional state and wanted, no, NEEDED them to be happy. I would do anything in my power to cheer someone up, or right a wrong I thought I had done to make them upset. In my childhood mind, that mostly amounted to me drawing them a card. I would scribble the word’s “I’m soorrrryyy” onto a blank sheet of paper, draw lopsided hearts and cringe worthy stick figures, even for an eight year old, they were pretty bad, and I would go to whomever my muse at the time was, give them a giant hug, and hand them their card.

Then I would wait while they viewed it paying close attention to the expression on their face. If they smiled, I knew I had succeeded in my mission. All was well in my world again. I had made the hurt go away.  I had made someone happy. To me, that was the greatest thing you could do for someone. It didn’t matter whether they had hurt me back, or even if it wasn’t me who caused the hurt. the point was, I did what I felt was the right thing to do about it. I yearned to be the healer,  for everyone to move past the pain and move on to brighter things. You see, as an eight year old who didn’t have the capacity for self-righteousness, I also lacked the capacity for things like pride, grudges, and judgement. I just knew that I wanted the hurting to stop, so I did what it took to get there.

I think they call that being the bigger person.

Fast forward 17 years, and deep down inside, I believe I still have that yearning and desire to heal and let go and move on into the happiness. But life, has implemented things like ego, and bitterness, dishonesty, and lack of communication, that stems from the shitty shit that happens to us. Which I realize is not a viable excuse because EVERYONE has shitty shit happen to them and most of them still manage to accept the people in their life for who they are and move on with love and compassion.

Look, I have done it both ways, I have played the petty card,  and I have also, sucked it all up and stepped up to the plate of forgiveness even when they didn’t deserve it. I have extended a hand in friendship and I have too, slapped that invitation away, I have been both the smaller and bigger person, in many different situations, while both have their perks, there is no greater relief on your emotional state than the latter. I promise you.

Yes, it takes more guts to love someone despite the fact that they hurt you, but once you find it in yourself to muster that courage up; you’re free.

So, my dear friends, do me a favor, be eight year old Katherine. Be so engulfed in the healing and loving of the people in your life that you forget that there’s a reason you stopped loving them in the first place. Forgive, even if they don’t deserve it. Reach out, extend the invitation for them to re-enter your life, even if you think they will reject it, swallow that pride, be the bigger person. Encourage the same for those that are close to you, friends don’t let friends be petty cunts. Make people happy.

“Our job is to love others without stopping to question whether or not they are worthy”

At least….that’s how I feel around the holiday’s.





Hallelujah! Praise DA LAWD! I am back in a moving, working vehicle! 

“Oh man, I sure am going to miss walking and ubering everywhere.” Said no one ever.

Fuuuuuccccckkkkk that!

Ugh yes. At long last. After nearly two months of suffering and dramatic break downs, I have gotten my shit together and purchased myself a set of wheels. My sweet sweet victory tastes……sweet. Phase two of my master plan to catapult myself into responsible adulthood is complete. Now on to phase three.

What are the steps to my master plan, you ask?

None of your business that’s what.

I have decided that when it comes to goals and ambitions, it’s best not to announce them to the world. I have a tendency to get extremely over excited when it comes to good things happening in my life. I get carried away and scream it from the mountain tops when happiness is in the works, which isn’t necessarily a bad thing, but when life steps in and completely fucks with your plans, it can be a tad bit embarrassing to have to explain it’s awful interruption to the undivided audience you created with your motor mouth. Hence, I will not be sharing my dreams until I have brought them to fruition.

In other news:

I have two jobs. I’m super stoked about them both. I will be working about 75 hours a week once I start the second one and you know what? I’m totally ok with that. I want to be so busy and consumed in my work, that I do not have the time or energy to dwell on the past. I realized I do that a lot. It’s neither healthy nor constructive and I no longer have a capacity for any nostalgia in my life. Moving forward is what’s up now. It’s lit fam.

I’ve also noticed my burning disdain for others has lessened over the last couple of weeks. It feels nice. I think I’ll keep that shit up too.

I’m actually pretty ok. And that’s just fine. I still have my bad days, but for the first time in awhile, the good outweighs them.

I’m happy.

I’ve met some really chill individuals in my comings and goings, and I spend a lot of time with them and my daughter. I’m focused on training myself to think productive and positive thoughts, while still maintaining my glass cutting wit and dry sarcasm. There is a balance here people and it is beautiful. I’m not saying I’ve magically transformed or anything like that because that would be a bold faced lie, but I’m in a good place and off to a good start. It’s weird how life works. One minute you’re all alone with no job, no car, no money, feeling sorry for yourself and pissed off because your getting fat and you haven’t had sex in like FOREVER, the next thing you know, you got a car, two jobs, cool friends, disposable income, and a great rapport with your daughter’s grandparents because you finally stopped bullshitting with em and you’re moving out anyways.

Just an example.

The great thing about feeling like you’re drowning is that when you do finally come up for air, it’s the best breath you’ve ever taken. You learn to love the small victories and cherish the most simplest of things. As I’ve mentioned before. I am grateful for this experience.

However, I am even MORE fucking grateful that it is coming to an end, because for fucks sake this has been one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do.

Here’s to crawling out of the dark place. Cheers.


I’m always tired.

Wake up tired.

Go about my day tired.

Go to bed tired.

There are a lot of exciting things coming together currently.

I would write all about them, but I’m too tired.

Tomorrow. Tomorrow I’ll deliver I promise.


No Thank You.

Get up.


Get my baby out of bed.

Send her off to school, try to fix the mess in my head.

Put running shoes on, I’ll try running instead.

Keep myself busy with housework and signing up for class.

Write a thousand words and delete them. Before anyone can see them.


Run another mile.

Fuck it’s still early.

It’s only 8:30.

Stay busy. I have to stay busy.

Phone rings in the other room, I rush to it.

Hate myself for doing it.

Turn the ringer off, who needs it?

Thank god it’s almost 3:00.

Go to work, where I don’t really have to think.

Guy I serve says I’m pretty. I try to believe him.

He leaves his number on the receipt. I throw it away.

Who needs em?

After the shift co-workers ask if I want to grab a drink.

No thank you.

Go home. Check my phone.

Friend calls. Says she hates that I never leave my home.

Come out with me. You shouldn’t be alone.

No thank you.

Fold down my sheets.

Lay down. Try to sleep.

Check my messages, lay back down and repeat.

That’s my week.