Just Kacie Things

So apparently I’m supposed to be “taking care of myself.” Drink water. Stretch. Meditate. Journal. Put cucumbers on my eyelids like I’m a salad. And don’t get me wrong — I want to be that person. The one who lights a candle, sinks into a bubble bath, and emerges glowing and renewed, like a soft-lit commercial for lavender. But in reality? Self-care feels less like relaxation and more like… homework. Homework that I don’t have the budget for. Because here’s the thing: I’m unemployed. Which means all those “treat yourself” versions of self-care — facials, fancy yoga classes, that $40 face mask that claims it’ll solve both rosacea  and my life problems — are not exactly happening. My current budget for wellness is whatever’s left after bills and minimal groceries. So when Instagram says “book a massage, you deserve it,” I’m like, okay, but can I pay for that massage in leftover rice and veggies? “Have you tried yoga?” Yes. On YouTube. In my living room. With a towel instead of...

I wanted to thank everyone for the love on my last post. I wanted to play around with varying formats for this blog and I had album makeups in my head when I was sitting there staring at the screen. I had such a wonderful reception here and on Bluesky and it made me happy to think others could relate. Thank you so very much. As I was sitting here today thinking about other ways I could write that weren't so "diary-entry," I came across a poem I wrote back in 2016. I have no idea what the premise was nor what mindset I was in. I just know I had left my five-year career with Disney and moved back home to Texas just two months before this was written. I don't remember writing any poetry outside of school, but I guess I did! Anyway, here's a silly little thing I wrote at age 28:  Fairy Stars She prances and glides along the leaves Her dust shimmering in the wake Placed carefully on their edges The leaves sparkle as they shake   Her smile lights up the forest A wonderf...

Illustration from Kevin McNamara Sometimes I think my brain missed its calling as a DJ because it insists on playing the same songs on repeat—except the “songs” are just all the ways I’ve been awkward, embarrassing, or catastrophic in the last 24 hours. Or the last 24 years. (Yes, I’m still haunted by middle and high school.) Anxiety really is the gift that keeps on giving. And giving. And giving. So today, I thought I’d share with you my personal Greatest Hits Album: Overthinking Edition. Maybe you’ll recognize a few of the tracks on your own playlist (because misery loves company, right?). Track 1: What Did They Really Mean By That Text? (Acoustic Version) 🎸 Ah yes, the timeless classic. Someone texts “k” and suddenly my brain is convinced I’ve ruined the friendship, disrespected their family, and possibly started an international incident. (All over one letter! Imagine the power I wield.) Clearly the only reasonable response is to analyze every possible tone behind that singl...

Lately, I’ve been thinking a lot about how messy life can feel sometimes—like your brain is a tangled-up ball of thoughts that no matter how hard you try, never seems to untwist. And while therapy and self-care routines are the best option in my opinion, there’s something almost magical about stepping outside and letting the world do some of the work for you. I recently spent some time wandering through the mountains of Montana and Wyoming, and it hit me just how powerful nature can be for mental health. There’s something about the quiet rustle of leaves, the rhythm of footsteps on a trail, and the smell of fresh air that seems to unstick all the thoughts jammed in your brain. Even if just for a moment, your worries shrink down to the size of a pebble on the shore. Grand Teton Mountain Range and Lake Taggert I think it’s the combination of movement, sunlight, and being completely present in a place that doesn’t demand anything from you. Nature doesn’t ask for your deadlines or your t...

I’ve always believed that some places are best experienced in silence — the kind where the only sound is the wind in the trees or the far-off call of something wild you can’t quite see. Yellowstone and Grand Teton? They’re that kind of place. A view of gently flowing water in Yellowstone National Park The trip started like most of mine do — a mix of excitement, snacks in the car, and the hope that I packed the right clothing. But the moment we crossed into the park and saw the peaks of Grand Teton towering over the glass-like water, I felt it. That quiet shift in your chest when you know you’re somewhere special. Yellowstone is a reminder that the earth is alive in ways you can literally see — geysers hissing, mud pots bubbling, and colors so unreal they look Photoshopped. And then there’s Grand Teton, with peaks that make you feel small in the best way. Mornings there were all cool air and mirror-still lakes, the kind that beg you to slow down and just… be. Lake Taggert in Grand Tet...

So... does anyone remember how to do this blog thing anymore?  Oof, it's been awhile, huh? About 6 months, to be exact! So much has changed since I last blogged and ... well, you're probably here from Bluesky so you already know!  Regardless, here's a quick rundown: I’m back in Minnesota! I could easily write ten blog posts about the move—and probably will at some point. But for now, I’ll just say this: I’m back where I belong, and I’m beyond glad to be out of Texas (for about a thousand reasons)! I gave childcare a solid two-month try and—shockingly—it was not my calling. Since then, I’ve been on a thrillingly unproductive job hunt. I’m sure something will come along… eventually… maybe… who knows! 😭 I met and completely fell for the kindest, sweetest, funniest, most genuinely caring person I’ve ever known. Now I finally get what people mean when they say it’s easy to love your partner. I’ve never clicked with someone the way I do with Jordan—I really feel like I’ve foun...