I am Caitie. Welcome to my wrestling match where I will take on despair. And my cPTSD. And my toddler.
Myers-Briggs says I’m an INTJ. Enneagram says I’m an 8. You can say hello to the Stalin-Churchill-Hitler standoff perpetually happening in my head.
I’m hell-bent on sticking it out with Jesus, even though I feel frustrated and blame him for a lot of the things I probably shouldn’t.
I’m a little curmudgeonly and I’m not afraid of the F-word. If only because I feel entitled to it after all my abuse. And if only because it so accurately describes the violance I can’t find words for.
I run Hope Gathering (a faith based women’s conference in NYC where we sit together in the tension). And I make dinner happen every night.
I was actually a high school pole vaulter, and am currently into flying trapeze and kickboxing. But in my head and heart I am a wrestler.
I struggle with the pain in our world and my inability to really do anything about it. And I struggle with the promise that Jesus is enough for it all, and in him-with him, I am enough. Much of that doesn’t make sense to me.
I am a survivor of Childhood Sexual Abuse. And I share my stories here because the unspeakable violance needs to be spoken. And speaking about the unspeakable is hard, so let’s borrow each other’s words.
I am an imploder, not an exploder. So I look normal on the outside. If “normal” means that I can have two different strangers in the same week but on separate occasions mistake me for a high school drop out and a 40 year old mom.
I have a toddler named Augustine (Uh-Gus-Tin). We call him Gus. And a husband named Ted. We call him Ted.
I’m in a mom-click that strives to be the World’s Okayest Moms and our motto is “whatever works for your family.” We’re a “click” because that’s the sound our margaritas make when we cheers.
I think I’m really funny. And when my husband repeats the jokes I mutter under my breath everyone thinks he’s really funny.
My Ted keeps a list of the absentminded things I say, and if you ask him nicely he might read them to you.
(Quotes like, “Just because I’m going the wrong way on a one way doesn’t mean I don’t know where I’m going.”)