Fifty-one thousand.Oh.My.God.
I set it face down again.
It's the video I almost didn't post.The one that I filmed on the back porch at seven in the morning, wearing Griffin's Crushers hoodie, my hair in a disaster bun and with absolutely no plan.I talked for eleven minutes about a book that wrecked me so badly I cried in the Brews on the Bay bathroom on my break.I didn't have the lighting right.I kept losing my train of thought.I almost deleted it four separate times before I hitPost, mostly because Griffin had leaned over my shoulder, read the caption, and said "Post it" with such conviction that I felt like an idiot for not posting it.
And now fifty-one thousand people have watched me ugly cry about fictional characters in a hockey hoodie at seven in the morning.
This is me living my best life, apparently.
I pick up the phone again.Comments are rolling in.
“The way she described the FMC’s journey made me cry all over again.”
“CASEY.I ran so fast to read this book because of this review!!!”
Someone just wrote, “Please never stop doing these reviews.”
I put the phone down and pinch the bridge of my nose.Tears press at the corners of my eyes.
I am having an entire moment here in the kitchen, and the only thing that can make it better is if Griffin were here to share it with me.
Please never stop doing these reviews.
I repeat the words in my head carefully, as if I might startle them and they’ll scatter.Because somewhere in the back of my mind, past all the noise and the Chicago plans and the sensible corporate career and everything I'm supposed to be doing with my life, a very small thought is growing.
What if this is the thing?
Thething.The full-time thing, the thing I get up for, excited to do, the thing that fills me with creativity and passion and life.
I stare into space, imagining that reality for roughly thirty seconds before the naysaying self-talk begins.
Who builds a career talking about books on TikTok?That's not a career.That's a hobby.You've had three high-performing videos in two weeks.Three is a coincidence.And what about the job in Chicago?You have an apartment.You made deposits.You have a plan, and the plan doesn’t include staying in Bayshore, Ohio.
I drain the rest of my coffee, feeling the spell break.
My plan didn’t include falling in love with my high school crush.Nor did it include a potential ADHD diagnosis either, but here we are.I’ve already managed to get an appointment with a therapist that Griffin hunted down and vetted.He pored over hundreds of reviews on his own time to give me a consolidated report of his top five selections within an hour’s drive, all because I mentioned that the idea of tackling the research overwhelmed me.Witnessing that level of time and attention made me want to marry him on the spot.Instead of asking for his hand in marriage, I just cried into his shoulder and said “thank you.”
My first appointment was this week, and we’ve started the lengthy diagnosis process.It’s been interesting to see how many of my personality traits line up with typical ADHD behavior.I’m trying not to put the cart in front of the mental health horse, though, so I’m exercising all the patience I can muster as I go through the process.
My phone buzzes.I’m expecting another TikTok notification, but it’s Claire.Today is the day of our sister outing that Griffin insisted I set up.
CLAIRE:Hey, I need to reschedule for today.Something came up.Maybe next week?
My chest deflates.Even though I walk on eggshells around her, I very much want to make things better.And the fact that she’s dipping on this plan bothers me.
I start to type backNo worries, but then I stop.
Delete.
There are, in fact, some worries.And maybe I should tell her about them instead of keeping them to myself.
CASEY: I know you're busy and I'm not trying to be difficult.I was really looking forward to today.I know your work is important to you, but is there any way we can still meet today?This is important to me.
A breath whooshes out of me when I hit send, and my entire body feels electrified.
Claire calls a moment later.
“Hey,” I say tentatively.
