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LET ME

 

 

INTRODUCE

 

 

MYSELF...

 

 

 

I guess there is no better time than now to introduce myself.  I’m Casey.  I’m a 47-year-old mother of a bad ass 22 year old daughter.  I’m a nitpicking, overthinking, analytical, methodical Virgo and I'm sure have been labeled as someone who has sociopathic tendencies.  I am my own worst critic and am pretty sure I suffer from some sort of Autism (or am for sure on the scale).  In fact, my ailment list is long and includes OCD, ADHD, BPD, Anger Management Issues, self-esteem issues, and many more.  12 years ago, you wouldn’t have gotten me to admit any of that out loud, but with age comes a level of truth that 12 years ago I didn’t understand.  I was 35 years old when I finally owned my shit.  I didn’t know it then, but that day would be one of the most influential moments of my entire life.

 

I’ve made jokes my entire life about the types of people I’ve always attracted.  I’m not necessarily talking about men…I just mean in general…although as you'll soon learn, men are no exception.

 

I’ve always been very inquisitive and fascinated with what makes people tick. Humanity is (or has the potential to be) an amazing thing. The thing about people that has me so awestruck is the fact that we are all so different…in so many ways.  I don’t just mean our appearances, but our thoughts, movements, habits, perceptions, etc.  I mean who really knows what one person sees is the same as any other person? What if I see an elephant and to me, he appears grey, but to the guy next to me he appears blue?  What if a peach tastes like grass to me but to you it tastes like salmon? Who's to say what salmon or peaches even taste like?  I mean do we ever REALLY know who we are?  No.  We all imagine what we would do in certain circumstances, but when that certain circumstance happens…who’s to say that we’d go through with what we thought we’d do?

 

What I'm getting at is no one ever really knows what they are fully capable of, that is until desperation strikes. People always ask me how I have learned to do so many different things.  As you get to know me, you'll learn I'm a jack of all trades and a master of none.  My answer to that question is, "Desperation created this version of me."  It's true.  The reason I learned most of what I know today was primarily out of desperation (and at times boredom).  Shitty circumstances (or what I believed were shitty at the time) left me with no other option but to learn. We don't realize it in the moment, but all the shitty circumstances we find ourselves in throughout life are blessings in disguise.  Some things are learned within these experiences and some instincts we are just born with...or so I thought.  

 

Up until recently, I truly believed that we humans were all born with natural “fight or flight” instinct (amongst others).  I’ve watched Animal Planet and National Geographic several times and am always amazed that animals know how to do certain things from birth.  They automatically know how to eat, how to protect each other and usually how to survive in general.  So, I assumed (stupid me) that since humans are supposed to be smarter than animals, that we too would have instincts that we are born with.  Most people would call this our intuition.

 

Only recently did I learn that only some of us were born with these "instincts."  Recently, as in when COVID first hit us.  That was my first real insight into the world’s survival instinct I was taken aback when I saw the first real reaction to a crisis, or "pandemic" as they call it; when the world's "survival" instincts kicked into gear.  Here we are in the middle of a worldwide pandemic, on lockdown, the first real major crisis I've seen in my lifetime, and instead of worrying about what I consider the staples in life (food, water, you know, things you NEED to survive), 75% of American's were focused what they NEEDED to survive.  

 

I was expecting the news to show the shelves at the supermarkets that were once lined with food empty because people were stockpiling their own homes so they could care for their loved ones.  Is that what I saw?  Yes, kind of.  I saw empty shelves in the stores alright, but to my surprise it wasn't the food aisles that were empty.  Nope, I had access to all the food that I wanted (or really needed) surprisingly.  What I didn't have access to was what the rest of the American people deemed as necessities: the entire toilet paper aisle.  

 

Now I can understand the diapers or feminine product section of that aisle being empty...to an extent, but what I couldn't wrap my head around was the toilet paper part.  Was this really everyone's "survival" instincts kicking in?  If so, that's scary. The world is potentially coming to an end and all that the American people were worried about was wiping their ass.  I don't know about you, but taking a shit was the FURTHEST thing from my mind when I learned of a worldwide crisis.  Feeding my family, keeping them safe, warm, hydrated, etc., those were the things I was worried about.  I mean, if you want to be real about it, wiping our asses isn't even going to be a concern if we aren't able to put food in our mouths, right?

 

It's situations like these that get me thinking, maybe I don't think like most of the population.  What I think is common sense, others call paranoia.  What I consider to be logical, some call over-thinking.  What I consider to be average intelligence, others think is genius. I’ll be honest, I know my perfectionism and overthinking can be a little excessive and because of that, I can be a lot to handle at times.  Dealing with me can be exhausting and should require some sort of training or licensing to do so.  I exhaust myself before even getting out of bed with just the thoughts that run through my head. I can only imagine what it's like dealing with me from the outside. However, my way of thinking has me believing that I am not as unprepared as the rest of the world because I have thought of every single possible answer for every event, question, task, crisis, pandemic, whatever that I’ve faced, could face, thought about facing, etc...and if I don't have an answer for something, I will find one.

 

Maybe my way of thinking is one of the reasons that people feel drawn to me?  Or could it be some form of manifestation that I am doing that attracts them?  My underlying desire to fix everyone and make them a better person? Or the “frequency” that I exert (or whatever you want to call that shit)?  Regardless of what it is, I do know one thing to be true, I have some sort of sonar type pulse that emanates from me like a freak attracting pheromone.  Do you remember those old school blue torture chambers our parents used to hang outside on the back porch? If you're old enough you will.  I'm talking about the flying bug's death row - the infamous bug zapper.  That's what it's like to be me.  I'm that bug zapper.  I have this beautiful blue glowing light that attracts every flying creature within 10 counties of me...scratch that...within 50 states of me (you'll see).  The only difference is that I wasn't lucky enough to be able to shock the shit out of everyone that enters my personal bubble. So, really, I guess I'm more like an annoying blue light, which really makes this just a crappy analogy.

 

Anywho.... Let’s just say somewhere built inside of me is this subconscious dog whistle that screeches out of my body every time I take a breath.  Only those that need to hear it (which so far seems to be pretty much everyone) will suddenly start gravitating towards me.  Sometimes it seems like these people will appear out of thin air.  I'll be in line at the grocery store and not a single person even near the check-out line.  Then suddenly someone appears right behind me and within 3 minutes I know their entire life story...even if I don't acknowledge them.

 

My entire life I have gotten the same comments from everyone I encounter (and I mean this happens at least twice a day).  "You look so familiar." "I know you, but I don't remember where from."  "I knew you in a past life."  I can even convince people that I've never seen in my life that we were once good friends, and they will believe me.  It's the strangest thing.  For some reason, I also have this ability to get people to trust me.  I mean instantly.  My friends are always in awe that people divulge the information they do to me within a matter of minutes. I have a love/hate relationship with this trait of mine.  I love it because I've been able to meet and talk to some of the coolest people over the years.  Hate it because I'm also an empath and it can be emotionally draining.  

 

I have shared some of my stories with those closest to me throughout the years.  They are not only shocked when I tell them my stories and/or about the people I've encountered on this journey, they are amazed when they see my dog whistle in action.  I always get the same response from all of them, "You need to write a book." The thing is, I'm not an author.  In fact, I'm not even convinced I'm a good writer.  My nitpicking, perfectionist personality seems to doubt most everything I do.

So, after 15 years of being told to write a book, I finally agreed.  Let me rephrase, I agreed to just write, or document my experiences.  I agreed to write about all the different, wonderful, crazy, psycho, loving, rude, smart, narcissistic, empathetic, adorable, mean and of course amazing people I've met throughout my journey; about all of the exhilarating highs and heart-wrenching lows that have been a part of this awe-inspiring voyage. I’m not promising Pulitzer-worthy material, but I can promise you that once you've gotten a glimpse into this crazy world through my eyes, one of two things will happen: you'll either want to have me committed or you're going start realizing what you're truly capable of.  At the very least, I'll make you realize that maybe your life isn't quite as bad as you thought.

 

At one point in my life, I was very resentful for the things I had to go through.  Today, I'm grateful for all of them, even the bad ones. I know those of you that are currently experiencing the bad in your life will want to call bullshit on that, but it's true.  That doesn't mean I want to go through any of it again - I don't.  In fact, I always joke around and say, "My punishment for anything bad I've done in this lifetime is going to be me living to be 120+ years old...either that or I'm going to be reincarnated as me and have to do all of this shit all over again."

 

Everything we go through in our time here; it all happens for a reason.  Cliche, I know, but I truly believe that.  In the moment, it's hard to see what that reason is, but I promise you, eventually it will all make sense.  There will come a point in your life where every little puzzle piece (or experience) you've picked up along the way will start coming together, ultimately being all connected to form the final masterpiece.  One thing age shows you is that life is an interconnected series of events and only when we have learned whatever lesson was intended for us are we able to see those connections. I'm not going to lie, it has taken a lot of bullshit, drama and sorrow for me to realize that. I'm sure being a slow learner and repeating the same mistakes didn't help speed up that process any. 

 

I'm still on the fence about why I'm writing this, but I am. I think it's partially free therapy, partially anger release and partially because I'm not getting any younger.  Someday I won't remember my story as clearly as I do now, so I want to document it while I do.  I am also doing this for my daughter.  I want her to see through my eyes why I chose to do the things the way I did and how much of a better person she's made me.  Although she already knows this last one, I also want to remind her that it is ok to fuck up.  We all do and those that say they don't are lying.  It's how you handle those fuck ups and what lessons you take from them that will define who you are.  

 

My path has been hard, and there have been many times that I wanted to throw the towel in or just run away.  I didn't.  I couldn't.  I'm a mom.  I chose to fight because I had a little mini me who looked up to me.  Not only was I her only rock in life, but I am also her only family.  This girl has seen me get my ass handed to me by life more times than I care to admit, but one thing I refused to let her see was me stay down.  Whether I wanted to or not, I got up, dusted my knees and came back for more rounds.  Unfortunately, with fighting comes wounds.  Wounds are painful, some more so than others.  When wounds heal, they become scars.  Scars that most people spend an absurd amount of time and money in an attempt to cover up because they’re embarrassed by them.  Scars to me are a daily reminder of how far I have come.  They are a badge of honor for each and every trial and tribulation that I have lived to talk about.  They remind me of my big toe - not the most appealing thing on the planet, but necessary for me to stand tall. They're a daily affirmation as to the growth and wisdom that I have obtained.  So, ya, I may be a little busted up, but guess what?  I survived.  I am far from perfect and I’m finally ok with that.

 

It's taken me 40 years to learn the lessons that came from enduring all this shit in my life...and chances are, there are many more to come.  Yes, because of all these lessons, I have wrinkles, and I have smile lines. Even though I don't want to admit it, I have even started getting gray hair.  There are days that I don't even recognize myself in the mirror anymore, but I'm learning to accept that.  I'm not going to lie though, it's a work in progress!

 

So, as the rest of the world is striving to look and feel younger, I will continue to embrace the new me because these physical changes are my badges, my medals of honor for all the wonderful, crazy, unexplainable, straight up insane experiences life has thrown at me. They all tell a story.  My smile lines show you that I've smiled enough in my life to warrant getting these aqueduct looking lines next to my mouth.  My gray hair more than likely came from the stress of being a single mom and that’s ok.  The outcome was a phenomenal young adult who will eventually change the world.  My boobs no longer look like they did when I was 20.  That's fine because they gave my daughter life.  All the rest of these little minor changes to my body that I notice slipping daily, well, so fucking what?  They are all just superficial, shallow attempts at pleasing people I don't even know because of what society deemed as a delusional "perfect.”  As far as I'm concerned, society's "norm" can kiss my ass anyway.

 

So, when I'm 60, I'm going to let my bingo flaps fly in the wind and not give a shit what anyone thinks because they too will tell a story; a story that I am proud of.  Maybe I don't look 23 anymore. I'm not. It has taken a lot of self-sacrifice, self-love, self-hatred, life lessons, etc. to get to this point where I’m finally comfortable in my own skin. For the first time, I'm not out to impress anyone and that means no longer will I hide my battle wounds.  

 

So I’m going to share my story; the good, bad, and the straight up wow moments that I was lucky enough to be a part of.  A story about the moments that made me laugh, moments that made me cry, moments that I will never forget and the moments that created my scars.