Jul 262015

I don’t get things right very often.

Need examples?

Here’s one. Here’s another. I’ll leave it up to you to find the rest.

Life has been pretty weird lately in a one-step-forward-two-steps-back kind of way. Last month took every last ounce of me. It was so full of birthdays, weddings, visitors, too many work hours and too many happy hours. Each on it’s own is a beautiful thing. Each one lasting into the next has left me with nothing left.

“Don’t give what you need to keep for yourself.” – Deb Kern

This is a lesson I need to learn again and again and again. Every time I think things are coming back together they seem to fall even farther out of reach. Breakdown before a breakthrough, right?

My breakdown always looks the same. Self-doubt. Chocolate cravings. Puppy adoption websites. Spending hours upon hours trying to find the best flight deal to the closest non-english speaking country with a decent scuba dive. Obsessing over all the things I’ve ever done and ever want to do. Silently suffering through the breakdown, impatiently wishing and hoping for that breakthrough. In the meantime, the days are so long but the weeks go so fast. The days just wouldn’t end.

10:37 a.m.

10:51 a.m.

11:02 a.m.

This goes on all day until I realize on my way home that the next day is Friday again. Huh? Let’s ignore the fact the July is almost over to avoid inducing an anxiety attack. Age 31 is quickly creeping up on me and I’m feeling a little bit blah-blah. I’ve loved 30. Am I ready for it to be over?  I certainly made progress this year but we all know it’s never enough for me. So much has changed for me in just a year. Thinking about that much changing in the year to come is honestly a little intimidating. And I don’t even work that hard, guys. Imagine if I worked twice as hard? Ten percent more? ONE percent harder? I’m consistently frustrated with the part of me that will work super hard for someone–hell, anyone–else but can’t seem to work as hard for myself. I think most people are like this. Admitting it is the first step.

Even so, I’ve come a long way. The best part of having a blog is knowing exactly where you were a year ago. Coincidentally, the worst part of having a blog is also knowing exactly where you were a year ago.

Last summer was a fucking mess. I had an injured ego, injured shoulder and an injured liver from downing bottles of Pinnacle Whipped vodka or Pinot Grigio every night. I might still be recovering from all three. Maybe I’m not as strong as I thought. Or maybe things always take much longer than I think they will. Maybe it’s a little bit of both. A year seems like such a long time. I don’t want it to seem that way. I really, really don’t. Because a year isn’t a long time. It only becomes a long time when you are impatient and want something right now. A year isn’t a long time at all when you think about how long you’ve wanted and been working towards something. Two years? Ten years? Since you can even remember? And if you really truly want something, you’re will to wait for it and work for it forever. Get whatever or die trying. Sounds bleak. So does the alternative of giving up. I’ll die trying.

So I’m sitting here wondering and writing about all the things. What would totally make this year? The tired and weary  part of me wants to convince myself that 30 was made before it even started. It wants me to rest now and coast on this for a while? The nothing-is-ever-good-enough/I’m-too-hard-on-myself part says there is work to do. This part won’t let me sleep at night. It wonders if she can write a book in two months? Can she get coaching clients? Can she rebuild and rebrand her website? Can she get back in shape and heal her body and pay off her debt and also take a trip to a tropical island where she’ll drink coffee in the morning and tequila at night and magically, literally bump into the man of her dreams as she exits the diving boat after a day of mind-blowing day of scuba-ing warm crystal clear waters with whale sharks?

Totes doable in less than two months. Right?

The truth is sometimes I feel like I can’t even do those things in this lifetime, let alone before 30 slips away. I’m not giving up, though. Not just for me, either. I can’t give up. People need my book. They need my coaching. They need my website and everything I’ve learned about how to live in a body that doesn’t even feel like it’s yours half the time. My future self needs me to pay off this debt that has been weighing me down for a goddamn decade and my future love is wandering the planet wait for the magic he’ll feel when he bumps into me.

As for getting things right? I’m starting to reconsider. Maybe right and wrong don’t even exist as long as you’re learning along the way.

 July 26, 2015
Jul 092015

What do I do now?

The fact that my last post was on May 18th hurts my heart. When did this happen? Why do I do this to myself?

Not to mention, my state of mind at that time is not fun to read. I’m beginning to think that what I write either becomes something I absolutely adore or something I completely despise. There is no in between. There is nothing I wrote that is “good” or “fine” or “meh.” It is either fucking terrible or makes me believe that I am actually a writer.

I guess that isn’t the point, though. I also guess that everyone wants everything they do to be the most amazing thing they’ve ever done, much better than the last thing they did. That isn’t how it works. Not for me. Not so far, anyway. But I’ll keep writing. This way I at least get the chance to make the next thing better than the last thing. If I stop now and write nothing, the next thing is definitely not going to be better than the last thing.

I can’t live like that.

I will always beat myself up for not writing more, not remembering more, not doing more, not saying more. As I type that, I begin to feel ridiculous. Because I feel like all I do is think about what to write, try to forget things, long for a break, and decide that I can count on one hand the people I enjoy talking to.

You can’t handle the truth. It’s ok. I can’t handle it either.

I try really hard not to put up with bullshit. It’s not easy to do. People don’t like when you don’t put up with their bullshit. I try really hard not put up with people treating me like shit or dragging me down or trying to make me be more like them. Once in a while I let people do this and I immediately regret it. Sometimes I probably cut people out too soon to avoid said regret. It leaves me lonely a lot of the time but at this point in my life this is how it is.  I don’t know how else to do it. I’m not strong enough. I can’t allow people who treat me like shit into my life or I will die. I can’t even let them in halfway. I will drink and do drugs and become a loser and I. Will. Die. I will gain fifty pounds overnight. I will spend all my money and then some. I will drink vodka and red wine until my teeth turn purple. I will drunk dial and text and wake up in the biggest hate/shame spiral you’ve ever seen. Do you know the only way to fix that? Mimosas for breakfast.

Everything I just wrote makes me want to throw up a little. Life is a little like my posts right now. So much of it is so fucking good that I want to feel it and experience it forever. Other parts of it are so incredibly yuck. If we’re talking about handling the truth here, I’m handling this part somehow. If I ask my guts about it, they tell me it’s better this way. If everything was just blah, well then…everything is just blah. At least this way we get the good. We even get to decide how good it is and how much we want to feel it. We even get to notice that it can still be so good even with the pile of shit right next to it and that the reason some of it is so good is because it’s next to a pile of shit.

I’m OK with that.

I’ll sit here in between my piles of awesome and shit and try to make the next thing better than the last thing. That is definitely what I do now.

 July 9, 2015
May 182015

I’ve never been so excited for a Monday in my life.

I’ve been pretty awesome. Work is busy and good. My coaching course is almost done and is completely awesome. Summer is just a blink away. My best friend and my entire family are coming to visit next month. My garden is growing like crazy. I’m almost 100% recovered from a disgusting head cold and a broken big toe (Seriously…don’t ask.)

But then this weekend seemed to be the culmination of all things anti-Katey. All I wanted was for it to be over. Since I couldn’t make it be over, I did everything I could to pretend none of it was happening. My favorite question to ask when someone is doing something ridiculous like that:

How’s that working for you?

It started out with an invitation from a friend I’ve been trying to avoid for months. Instead of ignoring his “Want to grab a beer?” text I invited him to a full blown dinner at a place we used to frequent. We had friends that worked that and got lots of free beer and sake in order to drink ourselves into a stupor (which we subsequently did, obviously).

Then I had to send my RSVP +1 in for my friend’s wedding next month. The one guy I asked more or less gave me a flat out “fuck no,” leading me to fully invest in the thought that there is something seriously wrong with me and I am going to die single and alone. I tried to make myself feel better by deciding I would find an amazing dress this weekend instead of an amazing date. I failed miserably. No dress. No date. Table for one, please. Wait, no. Just serve me my filet mignon at the bar.

Just in case my ego wasn’t fully beaten into a pulp, the only boy I’ve ever maybe loved was in town this weekend for his little brother’s graduation. He is with the girl who has been his girlfriend since me and him parted ways years ago.  The only thing more annoying than the fact that they are her together is the fact that I even care. Why do I? Down and out with wedding date rejection is soooo much better with a reminder that you still can’t let that stupid boy go.

Ugh. I didn’t want to feel any of it but it turns out I felt all of it anyways. Ain’t that a betch. Apparently no amount of wine or vodka can numb this girl anymore.

So as far as how pretending none of it was happening worked for me? All I got was all the freaking feelings anyways. PLUS a hangover. No bueno.

I can’t numb it so I may as well just feel it. I think that makes it be over faster. Through. Not around. We know this one, guys. I’ve learned it over and over again for you.

Yeah, Monday. I was real happy to see you. There is something about the weekend that really gets to me sometimes. I need a routine. I need work. I need something more. I guess I know all this too and just forgot. What is that anyways?

It’s the extreme balance of the universe. Duh. The second you forget about it is the second the universe decides you gon’ learn to-day.

Most of the above bitchfest is easy to imagine balancing out. If that guy hadn’t left for her, I may not have done all the amazing things I’ve done in the last five years. Maybe I’ll meet someone at the wedding and a date would totally cramp my style. Maybe that guy I invited will end up doing something else that night that will totally change his life for the better. Maybe the perfect dress is waiting for me next weekend. Maybe I need a reminder that it’s time to finally let go.

This goes on and on and on. It’s actually an amazing tool for gratitude practice. How is this best thing for me the worst thing that happens to someone else? And how is this worst thing that happens for me creating the best thing for someone else?

What about the person who was fired from the dream job that I was then hired for? What about when I was the other girl and caused someone else to feel the way I’m feeling…without even knowing? There has got to be a million other examples.

I need to miss out on something to have this awful time in my mind. I have to have this awful battle with my ego to figure out what it is I actually need and want. I have to believe that everything I feel like I’m missing out on is creating something beautiful for someone else right now, right in this second that I feel like I’m missing it. I also have to believe that the awful feeling of right now is creating space for an amazing feeling for me at some point in the future.

Because remember when I felt like this?

Or like this?

Then this happened? Or this?

Yeah. I definitely believe it.

 May 18, 2015
Apr 072015

Facebook is doing this cute new thing where they show you a picture of something you were doing “x years ago today.” When I logged in today it was a picture of the beach in Pattaya, Thailand exactly three years ago.  I had been abroad for a few weeks and had probably been in Thailand for a day or two. Pattaya was my first stop. I remember taking the picture. I even remember some of the comments I got after posting it:

“Is this a real picture?” 


Oh yeah. It’s a real picture. I understand the comment, though. Sometimes I have a hard time believing I took it. Sometimes I almost can’t believe that I was ever even there. Man, I was a crazy mo-fo back then. I guess I still am because I’d probably do it all again in half a heartbeat. What an amazing part of my life to look back on.  That place and picture wouldn’t even hold a candle to what was coming for me. The past is such a funny thing, though. And pictures don’t tell the whole story. I rarely look at the photos I took when I was in Thailand. Three years later, I still find myself with a lot of what-ifs.

What if I stayed longer? What if I had never even gone? What if I went somewhere else instead of coming back to the states? What if I went right now? What if had died there? No really. I thought I was going to die over there more than once. My what-ifs don’t feel like regret. There isn’t any sadness or sorrow or negativity behind them. I don’t feel like I missed out on anything I won’t have the opportunity for again. My what-ifs just feel really curious. There are so many unanswered questions about what was really going on for me during that time in my life.

And thinking about that time in my life always makes me think about this picture:


Have you seen this picture? Yeah, that’s my nose. And my finger. Do you see that heart on my fingernail? It was right before Valentine’s Day. I’d just survived the worst, most depressed, upsetting months of my life. I was doing everything in my power to make myself feel okay – tiny nail polish hearts included. Things still weren’t great. I’d been back in the states for 6 months. I felt as if I’d failed miserably at moving to Thailand and was obsessed with getting back to San Diego. I was 28 and living with my parents. I had to take a job earning 10 bucks an hour working for someone 5 years younger than me. Thinking about these things two years later still makes me cringe a little bit.

I was slowly coming out the other side though. That shitty job got me out of the house and actually turned into something I had fun with. One night, I took my iPhone into the upstairs bathroom. I took photos. Lots of them. I had joined Fizzle and was bursting with motivation. I had so many ideas pouring out of me all the time. I had a legal pad full 0f blog post topics. I wrote a 32 page guide about how to get over the calorie counting obsession. I stayed up until 2 and 3 o’clock in the morning changing around the design and messing with the CSS of the site and writing program outlines. I thought I knew exactly what I wanted to do with the website and my ideas and my life. I published posts and articles and inspiration. I even scheduled a podcast interview with another Fizzle member to talk about it.  I asked people to tell me about what they were going through. I wanted their “Calorie Confessions.” They emailed me. I responded.

And then I just…stopped. I don’t even remember why. Maybe I was waiting for something. Maybe I gave up. Maybe I was scared. Maybe it just didn’t feel right. I deleted everything that was there and put up a “coming soon” page. I really did think it was coming soon at the time. Or at least I thought it was coming “as soon as.” As soon as I lost more weight. As soon as I felt better and wasn’t so depressed. As soon as winter was over. Then as soon as summer was over. As soon as I moved back to San Diego. As soon as…everything. I’ve been through so much since then you’d think it would count as “everything.” Instead, calorieconfessions.com has been sitting there for over 2 years. I know in my fucking gut that my life is in that website somewhere. Somewhere.

I’ve wanted to be a coach and start this thing up for years, long before I even went abroad. The funniest part? Now I have a job that I love. I can’t possibly imagine giving it up but now I almost want to do my own thing even more. I want to be a coach and have my own business more than I did when I was working a soul-sucking job for minimum wage. Maybe it’s because I work so closely for someone that is doing what I want to do so well. Maybe I’ve finally gotten to the point where I simply can’t not do it anymore. Maybe I’m finally in a place where I don’t really have anything to lose. Maybe, because I have this job, there is no desperation or neediness around it. It’s become this piece of my life that is just…missing. It isn’t lost. I know exactly where it is. I just need to pick it up and put it back in it’s place.

The other part of this whole loving your job thing is that, well…you love your job. You know that you would also love your own business, doing your own work. How do you pick one?

Answer: You don’t.

You get to have both for as long as you want. You get to love both. You get to have it all until the time comes when you only want one or the other or something else completely. If you want both forever, that’s okay, too. If you want to quit it all and start over tomorrow – fine. I was giving myself anxiety about a decision that doesn’t even have to be made. This seems to be something I do right before I find myself taking a picture of my life that makes other people ask if this is even real.

So…is it a real picture?

Yup. It’s real. And it’s real fucking beautiful. Just like the rest of the pictures that got you from that moment three years ago to this moment right here.

 April 7, 2015
Mar 272015

If I don’t get a post out right now SO HELP ME UNIVERSE I might explode into a million unreleased, unfinished, twisty tied up thoughts and feelings and sentences that will splatter all over the space around me and make a horrible MESS.

Whew. I feel better already. And phew. Because I don’t think anybody wants to clean up Katey-splatter.

You know my drill, guys. I wait until I have too much to say and end up saying nothing at all. I don’t know why I do this to myself. I was almost certain that things would get better after I talked it through with 2015 so far. It turns out things have only become wackier. I’m pretty sure it’s an actual thing that is going on, though. Meaning…it isn’t just me. There is an actual weird universe energy ju-ju and it is making everyone a little crazy. I tried to fight it for a little bit until I got an email from a close friend explaining her simultaneous overwhelm/love of life.  It was all I needed to get a little perspective. One day I can’t even handle being a real person and the next day I’m be so in love with life that I want to cry. I’m just doing my best to go with it for now because something tells me getting through this time will lead to something wonderful.

But let’s get back to right now. It’s 82 degrees and sunny here in San Diego. I’m actually writing to you from the beach. I might be the luckiest girl in the world, full up with gratitude.

Ugh. Those words feel like a big fat lie.

I should feel that way but I don’t feel very lucky right now. I feel like my life is a fat, messy, ugly, walking contradiction. What is up with that? I know I’ve sat right here in this spot and felt truly lucky and so grateful I would forget to breathe. So why should today be different? I am determined to be this way even when all else disagrees. That is when it’s the most important. I have to be the luckiest especially when I feel like a loser. I must be grateful and say thank you when it is most difficult to do so. Like when I have a dream job but still feel unappreciated sometimes. When I finally find a beautiful place to live that feels like home but my neighbor turns out to be a crazy mother f-er. Or when I’m constantly being asked for health advice by people around me – proving that I could get paid for it – but I can’t remember a time when I felt worse in my own body than I do right now. When it takes me 30 years to meet a man whose kisses feel like magic but he just happens to be divorced with four kids. And when the only thing that scares me more than not getting everything I want is actually getting everything I want. When there is still so much I want to do and see and feel and experience that I feel like I’ll just never get to.

All minor details…right?

We have our work cut out for us here. This shit is hard. My neighbor tells me I work too much. Probably because my honest response to any question about what I’m doing in the past, present or future usually involves me saying I have work to do. Because THERE IS ALWAYS WORK TO DO. I have my job work. I have my coaching work. I have my personal development work. I have my writing work. Swinging in my hammock work. Drinking coffee at the beach work.

Work, work, work.


Listen. This isn’t work. This is my LIFE. That means I work just the right amount. Sometimes I get tired. So I take a break. Sometimes I get inspired. So I work even harder.  I don’t care if you do more work than me or less work. This isn’t a competition. I don’t care if your work looks different than mine. I don’t care if I call something work that you wouldn’t. It doesn’t matter at all because I’m not going to stop. Ever. I don’t even have plans to slow down. I want to speed up. I want to do more. You get a tiny little taste of what lucky really feels like, what it feels like to be so completely grateful that you feel infinite and invincible and there is no fucking way you can stop.

So let’s not make excuses about why something is the way it is anymore. I’m experiencing all those things I don’t like right now but they don’t define who I am. They don’t even have to mean anything I don’t want them to. Why would I let them stop me? Once you decide that something has no power over you, you get to do anything you want to do and feel anything you want to feel.

“There are soul-justified reasons to cancel. There are times to stop. This isn’t one of them. Keep going. Decide to be one of those people who pulls it off. Do what you say you’re going to do. Don’t let us down. Decide to rise.”  

– Danielle Laporte

 March 27, 2015
Feb 102015

Dang, 2015. You sure are throwin’ me for a loop. You aren’t turning out at all as I thought you would. Luckily, we have plenty of time to get this thing in check, get this thing in gear, get this thing warmed up (I’m f-ing freezing, San Diego!) and get this thing going, please. You know when you’re really looking forward to something so much that it feels like it will never ever actually get […]

 February 10, 2015
Jan 012015

It’s time to say goodbye again already. Goodbye 2014. You were a beautiful year. I knew you would be. I didn’t go out last night. Not a single sip of alcohol passed these lips. If 2014 was beautiful then no hangover on the first day of 2015 is fucking gorgeous. Isn’t it such a backwards way of doing things? People are so hyped on resolutions and having a clean slate on January 1st. Why do we […]

 January 1, 2015
Dec 222014
She was never crazy.

Finally. someone understands. I swear R.M. Drake reads my diary at night. She was never crazy. She just didn’t want her heart to settle in a cage.   -R.M Drake OK…I don’t really keep a diary. This blog is my diary. But: Maybe we feel empty because we leave pieces of ourselves in  everything we used to love. -R.M. Drake Wow. Then: And she always had a way with her brokenness. She would take her pieces […]

 December 22, 2014
Nov 272014

The Thanksgiving Post remains my most popular post to date. I don’t really know why. I was still pretty new to this blogger-writing-in-public thing. The words and thanks were genuine but I still had no idea what I was doing. I love Thanksgiving. I am lonely and I am a little bit sad today, though. A typical Thanksgiving will not be happening for me. I am 3,000 miles away from my family and best friends. […]

 November 27, 2014
Nov 182014
more Tiny Beautiful Things

I’ve loved Cheryl Strayed for a very long time. I love Dear Sugar and my favorite mother f-ing mug is more or less attached to my hand. I’m rereading Tiny Beautiful Things right now. It is one of those books that you can read over and over because every time it feels a little different and will mean something else and something more. Last time, I felt this. Right now, it feels like this: “She’d have to find […]

 November 18, 2014