No Kids, Just Cats

cats, counterdependency

I have no problem referring to myself as a cat lady.

In fact, I wear it as a badge of honor.

Independence is one of my core characteristics, and having a cat in my life reinforces this trait. Every time I want to squeeze a cat and never let it go, it squirms to get away. Cats, after all, like their space and want love on their own terms- much like myself.

I definitely know better than to try and put a cat in a box, because I would never want someone to put me in one.

Happy Mother’s Day to all the wonderful female caregivers out there- whether it’s to felines, canines, or (gasp), humans.




I am extremely uncomfortable with people in my personal space.

Come to think of it, I’m usually just uncomfortable in general.

I’ve gone so far that I have snuck out the back kitchen door to avoid saying hello or making small talk with my old roommate who was hosting Book Club in the living room.

Looking back, I wasn’t the friendliest when I grew up with my mother, either. She would pleasantly ask how my day was or offer me love, and I’d snap with a “leave me alone!”

You may wonder, “how did you survive college dorms?”

I drank. A lot.

I drank a lot when I had roommates in San Francisco and New York, too, which is probably why they all wanted me out.

I know… I’m charming.

So, over the past several years I’ve jumped from apartment to apartment, roommate to roommate, as the finicky girl with a severe drinking problem.

Today, I’m sober- and although I’m beating the alcohol problem, I can’t quite adapt to the roommate thing.

Alas, until rent goes down (or I make it big), I’ll have to get used to cohabitation.

All I can hope for is that my roommates dislike small talk as much as I do.

I Love You From A Distance


Has someone ever liked you a little too much?

It’s strange, isn’t it?

The problem is, that’s how I feel about almost anyone who wants to be my friend.

Yes, I am laughing a bit as I write this (and yes, I’m exaggerating)- but it’s true. Most of my friends live in different cities, and we talk intermittently. As far as the friends I have here in Massachusetts, we maintain a comfortable distance- a distance that keeps our friendship strong.

I’m originally from Michigan, but have gathered friends from all over the world thanks to my “geographical changes.” I’ve lived in San Francisco, Austin, Charlotte, New York City, Chicago, and now Boston- so nevertheless, I don’t see my friends often.

With friendships come responsibility.

You’re expected to be a listening ear when they have problems.

You’re also expected to take on their shit.

Don’t get me wrong, I care about people and want the best for those around me.

However, sometimes it’s best I love you from a distance.

Table for One


Lately I’ve been intrigued by a term I was recently introduced to, thanks to a wise counselor of mine.

As we discussed my history, patterns, and quirks, she smiled and said,

“Sweetheart, you’re a counterdependent.”

I liked this.

Leave it to me to prefer to be different. Nevertheless, every time someone tries to tell me I’m codependent (or at least assumes I am without actually knowing me), I scoff a bit. Who do they think they’re talking to?

I’m the girl who purposely moved thousands of miles away from her family or anyone else she knew. I’m the person who leaves the office before someone can try to go to lunch with me. I’m the one who gets in various 2-3 month relationships, only to leave before it gets serious.

I can’t be alone in this, right?

So, I decided to start an entire blog devoted to this topic.

Maybe it will help other loners in a world full of codependency and societal expectations.