October brings that feeling with it, you know? Like things are about to get hard before they get better. Like you’re dressing up for something you don’t want to wait for and you don’t want to recognize that it might be cold and tiring when you try to live it out. And it’s exciting and depressing at the same time and it leaves me in the throes of fighting the funk and I am.
I was a stay at home mom who blogged as a hobby before. And now I’ve somehow become a writer and I feel like I’m embarking on winter, a season to hibernate and rest but there’s no time for that. A book proposal won’t finish itself and the traveling and speaking is a part of this overall experience and I love it. My inbox is always overflowing and I find myself needing help. I’m in this vicious cycle of try try try….repeat. It feels a lot like a hamster wheel and so surreal too. And it’s been kind of lonely in a strange way.
My Dad came over when the camera and the attached-to-us microphones were here and he took the boys out so Ryan and I could be interviewed. I met him at the door and I said how is this my life? and he said with a chuckle I don’t know. But he had this is good and it’s okay in his eyes. I feel that in my heart-gut too.
So in a few weeks our family’s story and the addiction and sobriety story that’s my own and yours will be shared on Fox 9 News. Trish Van Pilsum will tell this story and I trust her and I’m so grateful that she’s the fantastic person that she is.
This morning I was to speak at a local MOPS (Mothers Of Preschoolers) gathering here in my hometown. But I thought I was to speak tomorrow. So when the phone rang so I could be reminded that I was supposed to start to speak ten minutes before that, I was all tra la la and the boys and I were about to go out the door to do other things.
I was mortified. Of course. I thought it was tomorrow…gasp gasp…and then the realization that my plan to put the finishing touches on what I had to say was now squashed and I was about to wing it sunk in and I panicked. I grabbed my computer and my bag and ran circles around the boys who thought we were going to do something else and Asher was saying Mama, are you happy? Smile, Mama…
I feel really small right now and that’s okay. Who doesn’t need more humility? Heh. Because there I stood, unprepared and anxious and it was all I could do to not fall apart. That I found any words or any order to them at all is an absolute miracle. I hope even one small part of it made sense and I’m sorry. And I needed to write it out, just get it out, this place of tension has been hard the last couple of days and it will get better again, after it’s out. I am trying to be a stay at home mom and spend time with my boys while I try to find my way through the writing and speaking life and then I panic in moments, a fear rising up that steals my peace, telling me that this is not the time for all of this at the same time.
How does a woman do this? How does she chase dreams and still honor her relationship with her partner and children? Because when she tries to do both the chasing and the other kind of chasing it seems everything suffers and this is why we need help.
And so we hired someone. She is absolutely priceless. And she and I are going to do this thing together and I’m so thankful for her. We don’t have a money tree but we have faith in our journey and the fact that we always get by, we always have what we need.
I found Nichole on a site advertising care providers. Her profile said that she’s willing to help with errands and childcare and cleaning and organic cooking and editing…I couldn’t believe it said editing. Who throws in editing? (Someone who is meant to work for Heather and Ryan, that’s who!) Nichole has worked with kids for years, has a beautiful little girl, and even a clear understanding of social media.
You know what that is? A gift. A gift person. Also. I just realized I should probably try pinching her really hard to see if she’s real.
I’m thinking I should probably hand her my calendar. Perhaps she will get me to places on the right days.
It’s going to be alright. We’re going to find a groove over here. No, I can’t do it all, not alone or with help and so I’ve also been practicing saying no more often.
The surprising thing is, I’m learning I can be both a writer and a terribly good mother. I know because these are two parts of me that cannot be put on hold or stifled or changed. They are as much me as the messy bedhead atop my noggin and the toothpick-like ankles above my feet. And so I will live them both, with help.
P.S. No. You can’t have my Nichole.