She decided on day one that I’m the little sister who doesn’t know what she’s doing.Themess.
And somewhere along the way, I decided she was right.
I keep walking, stewing over the conversation with my sister.My frustration with her and with myself churns the entire time, until it’s become a hard mass in the pit of my stomach.I’m so tired of walking on eggshells around her.I’m thirty years old and still living in her shadow.When does this shit end?
I did everything right.I moved to the right city.I got the right job.I found the right-enough guy.All the things that were supposed to please my family, make them think I was doing a good job.
But it’s all still falling apart.
A thought screeches onto the proverbial highway of my brain:What would you have chosen that would pleaseyou?
I can barely answer.I’ve almost never thought about this.
And maybe that’s the fucking problem.
My brisk walk turns into a brisk return to Griff’s house.As soon as I’m inside, I’m shedding my shoes and heading straight for the pile of books in my bedroom.
I’m doing it.I’m going to make videos about my thoughts on books, because it’s the only thing that occurs to me when I think about the answer to my big question.
The next two days are a blur of TikTok studying, content creation, bartending, and video editing.I even have an unexpected side quest into mental health when I come across some videos asking questions that hit a little too close to home:Are you seen as unreliable?Do people complain that your head is in the clouds?
The videos talk about ADHD and what signs and symptoms you might show if you have it.Deep dives into the ways that ADHD can derail your life, your career, the hidden things that might be signs.I spend about three hours gobbling up all the information I can, until I finally ask myselftheburning question: Could I have ADHD?
My mind is blown.It’s never once occurred to me before.My parents never got me tested; I never had issues in school.But the older I get, the more I’ve thought maybe somethingiswrong.Has beenwrong.
But I’m not ready to think about it now.I file that away under “to ponder later” and get back to my book review endeavor.It’s incredible how easily it flows in comparison to my corporate role.There, it was dry as hell.Now I’m practically spewing up videos; I feel like a white water rafter struggling to stay afloat in the wild river of my creativity.
Having the house to myself has been helpful; I’m not worried about Griffin overhearing my blunders and awkward attempts at sounding witty.For as much edited video content I create, I have about double the amount of bloopers.But I don’t mind.I’m enjoying this deep dive into book reviewing, and I could probably do this for eight hours a day and not even notice.
This is where my corporate marketing background kicks in.I’ve been editing videos and putting together social media packages for years.So when I begin posting on my original profile, Casey’s Corner, I’m able to bypass all the usual fumbles of amateurs: low lighting, poor sound quality, haphazard editing.
After my two-day record-a-thon, I have enough content prepped for the next month.I’m proud of these videos.I don’t expect anything from them, other than being physical evidence of doing something that would deeply pleaseme.
I’m at Brews on Monday evening, the day Griffin is due back.We’ve been texting nonstop during his endorsement weekend, and I even got a sneak peek of him inside the ice bath, looking exactly like you’d expect from someone submerged in twenty-five degree water.I’m barely fifteen minutes into my shift when I can feel my phone vibrate with an incoming email.I don’t typically check my phone during work, but we’re still slow and something tells me to look.
SUBJECT: We want to talk next steps
I hurry to open the email and I have to re-read it a few times before I trust what I’m looking at.One of the Chicago companies I applied to wrote back, and they want to set up an interview with me.
This is what I’ve been hoping for since I sputtered into Bayshore in May.So why does my stomach slam to the ground?
“Hey, Casey, that group of girls down there is requesting you.”Jenna, one of my favorite evening bartenders to work with, nudges me before she tips her head toward the far end of the bar.“They said something about the book rec bartender.”
Her words don’t quite make sense to me, especially after being yanked out of the headspace that email put me in.Her words are buzzy and foreign, like something I heard once in a fever dream.
“They asked for the book rec bartender?”
“Yeah.”
“Forme?”My voice is almost a shriek now.
“Yes.”Jenna laughs as she shoves me in their direction.“Go do your magic book thing, girlie.”
I close out the email.The corporate opportunity in Chicago can wait.I’ll deal with that later.For now, I stumble over to the girls, and as soon as they see me their eyes light up.
“Are you the bartender who does the book and beer pairing?”They sound as excited as I am shocked.
“That’s me.”I grin and flip my bar towel over my shoulder.“The Book Rec Bartender.”On the inside, I’m basically screaming.Is this real?Are they really here to hear me do something that I would do any day of the week, for anyone who asked?And then another thought hits me like a lightning bolt.This is what my TikTok account needs to be called.