My Digital Journal
Peek inside my brain … What is Callie thinking about? From silly anecdotes to deep realizations, this is your one-stop shop for all my innermost thoughts. Imperfect as they are, I just have so many things to say!
Girls Can Do Better
When I was a little girl, I had this shirt that read "Anything boys can do, girls can do better." It was pink, with bold white letters that shouted my worth, my ability, my belief in the power of girlhood to everyone around me…
The Feeling of Now
There is a child-like magic that comes with the excitement I feel before I get to see people I love. I remember being a little girl, squeezing my eyes as tight as could be, hoping that when I opened them, it would be time to open presents on Christmas morning…
The House You Live In
The words you speak become the house you live in-
Choosing today to be grateful for the beautiful things my body allows me: lungs that laugh harder than anyone else, a heart that loves more than the average person…
What Is Done In Love
Today I logged onto therapy with tired eyes and a worn-down heart. I explained to my therapist how I feel like I am clocking into every day with existential dread; a looming fear of all the things I need to accomplish. I feel like I'm not doing enough…
On Leaving…
The mornings leading up to leaving a place are always a bit strange. The impending emotions: eagerly awaiting my freckles' darkening under the California sun, dreading the exams AND the goodbyes, packing up our memories into tightly sealed cardboard boxes….
Crowded Tables
Nearly my whole life I was told that “should” was a bad word - a word that sneakily passed judgment, creeping into conversations, impressing its beliefs onto my own.
When you are younger, the “shoulds” are simple - I should probably not talk back to Mom…
Postcards From Heaven
I sat in a True Food Kitchen in Palo Alto, California. The restaurant was empty, the conversations were low, the eyes of family members clouded and drooped.
“Cal, what did she say to you when you went in?” my mother wearily asked…