“Congratulations, Caitlin!”

That’s a word I’ve been seeing a lot. Mostly about being pre-qualified for this or that. You weren’t expecting me to say I was pregnant, were you? (NEVER.)

CONGRATULATIONS, we heard you’re broke! Medical bills be billing (weak and painfully millenial attempt at joke)

I’m going to pretend those letters are congratulating me for other things. Because do I still deserve congratulations? Every damn day. I’ll make my argument for this in a second.

Pivot: My new job is still going really well. I’m keeping up with what I’m learning. It’s clicking. It’s QUIET. The people are nice.

Proof God looks out for me? Yes. I mean… I don’t think I really ever needed any more proof though.

Pivot back: You know why I deserve congratulations?

Well that’s simple. I never give up. At most I sit down, cry, maybe do/say something a little mean or self destructive. But I have endured.

Right now I’m starting at my frantic and dutiful thumbs typing. They have all the positions of the letters memorized.

Brain to thumbs to screen. It’s all kind of miraculous in an everyday sort of way. All they translate. I work in so many ways. So do you. We are products of meticulously planned out, brilliant organ systems.

My favorite pet organ? Brain. It IS my little pet. I don’t understand all that makes it tick. I don’t understand how it puts my dreams together. I don’t understand why it sometimes takes away what it is fucking designed to provide (the desire to survive.)

But I love it. If my soul makes me “me” - and I think it does - my brain still makes it possible for me to put words together.

And that is me too. And I’m so alive with that.

Congratulations, Caitlin.