False Starts and the Messy Middle

(This is an audio version of the newsletter below. It’s unedited and raw. If you prefer to listen, I hope you enjoy it, including the real sounds and stutters that come with it)

On this March morning as I’m driving back from school drop off, I’m looking around at the fog covering the tree lines with the bite of chill in the air. I’m considering how much spring can often feel like it’s ready, then pull back once more.

Yesterday, we had the most glorious sunshine in the morning, a day that felt full of hope and possibilities for warm weather and being outdoors. Yet, by 2pm, the clouds rolled in and opened up, drenching us in a rain shower that made it hard to believe that just a few hours earlier it had felt like we were on our way to spring.

This morning, it’s another entirely new world where everything in every direction is covered in a low layer of hazy fog, where you can just barely see the trees in the distance. The mountains are completely hidden from view.

The only evidence that it’s morning is that it’s bright enough to see around us, but there are no sun rays and no golden feeling of hope and magic for the day. At least not yet. The rest of the day may unfurl with more showers or some dappled sunshine, making you believe that perhaps we didn’t have a 34 degree bundle-up-with-all-your-layers kind of morning.

This March morning's fog obscuring the treeline—just like the hazy uncertainty of life's transitions.

False Starts of Life

It’s funny how those false starts show up in our lives too. This past year, I’ve had quite a few of them. In this season of life, I’m a bit out to sea, bobbing along with what comes next, what feels right.

I have this energy to create, to share, to do something with my extra energy. Then I get thrust back into real life, into grief, into the throes of parenthood and managing the estate of my late grandmother. And nothing feels creative when life feels as heavy as it does.

I can’t tell you how many projects I’ve started and left behind. The fits and starts of excitement, then realization that I don’t know what it is that I want to create.

Where I’ve Been

For nearly 11 years, I’ve been a stay-at-home mom. My child and my family are everything to me.

I have run an online business and blog that was enjoyable, fun sometimes, and honestly, exciting when I felt like it was making a difference. When I started getting paid to share, I knew I hit the jackpot. I would work on this while my child was at school, then be present when they weren’t. It was the perfect harmony of “having it all.”

But for various reasons, it’s not a space I come back to with optimism anymore. It’s still all there, it’s still running, but it’s no longer my driver to create.

For 3 years, a time that both began and ended in the month of November, I was a caregiver for my grandmother. A woman who lived a long, full life that was also full of hardships in the last decade of her life on earth. I was grateful to spend extra time with her in her final years, but caregiving was one of the hardest roles I’ve ever taken on. And honestly? I think I’m still recovering.

The path forward isn't always clear, but it's there—waiting for us to take the next step.

The Messy Middle

Now, I am in that weird in-between of life.

My child is old enough to not need me all the time.

I am no longer actively caring for my grandma.

I have pulled (though not entirely) back from my blog and business.

I’ve tried out a few other creative pursuits, but none that have felt quite right.

Writing fiction.

Opening an Etsy shop.

Trying another blog on for size.

Truth be told, I know myself better than ever. I know my strengths. And know what I can offer the world.

And yet… I’m stuck in this space of not knowing what to do with myself next.

I am a writer, a creator, a person who likes to share - at least on the internet.

I take a step forward in optimism, then I’m pulled back with the realities of life.

A reminder that I still am working through cleaning out my grandmother’s estate, so while my active caregiving role is over, the journey here isn’t complete.

Grief and transition is a state I’m perpetually hanging out in right now.

While I have extra energy to put towards creativity and creation and sharing, I am often stifled by the time constraints of being a parent… and a person without direction.

I am paralyzed with indecision a lot of times right now and find myself doing things that feel like nothing while my child is at school.

I have thrown myself into new hobbies (watercolor, writing fiction) and enjoying some old ones (reading, cooking, baking, volunteering with my son’s school events). I’m also waiting and planning for the seasonal ones to come back around (gardening, being outside, walking/hiking).

The unexpected daffodils I mentioned—brave enough to bloom despite winter's lingering chill.

Showing Up in a New Way

All this to say - I’m ready to show up in a new way.

A way that feels more authentic.

A way that feels comfortable in a place that feels like home.

I will continue to write and share, as that’s who I am. And I’m ready to see where this new iteration of creation takes me.

I might be a little like this almost-spring weather.

Hanging on to the chilly temperatures of winter but confusing us all with unexpected daffodils sprouting up everywhere.

I hope you’ll join me here as I figure out what that all means.