I called myself trying to create a writing schedule for the 78th time this year.
I failed.
I ain’t even gonna try again. Not gonna see me hit 100 on this. I know when to pack it up, take my ball, and take my ass home. Kinda.
Chaotic and sporadic, that’s my thing. And that will be my thing. I won’t be one of them Substack creators that have nice and neat posting schedules. Y’all gonna get an email when y’all get an email. Sorry, I tried.
Shooting for weekly though. Just don’t know the day nor the hour.
Listen, my son ain’t been sleeping, so that means we ain’t been sleeping…so I took those pockets of the day when he was like "fuck it, I’m gonna shut my eyes for 14 minutes…” and I slept for 13 of them at a time. You need that extra minute to prepare yourself so you ain’t angry that he woke you up.
Parenting tip #28.
I gots bags of parenting hacks. They ain’t all good though. Saving those gems for laters, baby (see what I did there, yeah you did. Shout out to Mr. Grey—those had to be the worst movies, but then I remember that Vanilla Sky exists).
Okay, here goes the transition.
Insert serious stuff y’all.
I have spent this past weekend trying to make up for all the years I spent on social media building a following, writing and promoting a book, planning and touring, consulting, presenting, and advocating so I could be a better parent and wife. Shit don’t work like that, and I knew it, but I was trying anyway.
I was damn near suffocating the family. They was tired of me. But I didn’t care. I was all over them. We were doing everything. And damnit they was gon’ love every minute they spent with their mama and wife.
But they didn’t.
And they honestly didn’t understand what it was that I was doing.
What bugs me is that I felt I was failing all this time, feeling as though I was neglecting my family and they didn’t feel that way at all. They didn't feel forgotten or dismissed. They felt I was present in all moments of their lives. But I didn’t feel that way. I took my feelings and put it on them. I made them responsible for my healing. Ain’t that some shit?
I felt (and honestly, still do) so much guilt because I felt like I was putting in so much work in my work that I wasn’t putting as much as I should be into them.
but they didn’t feel that way.
And y’all, I don’t believe them. I think I could be showing up more. I think I could be spending more time with them during homeschool, more conversations with my husband about his work, or his love for music and cooking, more time diving into spelling and activities with Aidan…
However, they like, “you good.”
I’m like, “they lie.”
(Work in progress over here.)
I live with a dude and two teen boys. They either not gonna tell me I ain’t doing enough or they gonna be okay with me not doing more cause they just like to be left alone a lot.
And I feel like it’s a combination of both.
So, I make no promises that I will fall back on thinking I am not doing enough nor will I stop trying to do more when I feel like I am falling off.
Told you, work in progress.
What’s that y’all?
Oh, another transition.
There’s a few weeks left in my social media break and I have been spending most of it not working on any of the books I said I would be working on. I have been stuck on this picture book number two. Whoever said writing children’s books was easy, either never wrote one, or they wrote a shitty one.
It ain’t easy. Especially if you want children to read it and their parents to buy it.
You have to say so much with so little. Meaning big message with less words.
And ya girl is over here struggling like the button on jeans after dessert.
While I am on revision number 46 (I shit you not), I do feel better about the process. It is long and it is hard, but I feel it in my bones it will all be worth it. I am smarter than I was when I did my first book. I am more confident in my ability to take suggestions on my work. And I will only grow more and more in this. But book world can be something else. And some days I am barely staying above the water.
I haven’t found a new publisher yet, but it’s not a matter of if, but when.
Stay tuned for the magic on that one.
Annnnd, look what I found?
Another transition.
The highlight of my weekend…
watching the Mission: Impossible movies with the kid. He had never seen them, and I haven’t either. Seriously, not a single one. So, I was down for this.
Now, we got through six of them I believe. We still have one more to go. I think it’s one more. These movies span damn near my whole life. I’m exaggerating but shit, I might not be.
They ain’t bad films if I am being honest. Worlds better than Vanilla Sky. A bit outrageous at times with the tech and them damn masks with the voice changing thing. At times it felt like the movies were the spy version of Fast and Furious. Just ridiculous for no damn reason.
Enjoyable as shit though. And I can admit that Tom Cruise is kinda cute-ish. In the movies. The first three. And when his head is turned the right way.
Last switch incoming…
I know that the world is going through some shit right now. I have spent far too much time writing and rewriting what it is I want to say.
Human life, all human life, is precious, sacred, and worthy. We all deserve to know the beauty of this world and the freedom of our movements, the freedom of our steps, and our thoughts. We deserve to be safe. We deserve to live long lives in which we enjoy our loved ones, the spoils of this Earth, and the love of the things we found along the way that made our lives whole.
To all those who have lost their lives to violence, I am truly sorry that you are no longer with us. You didn’t deserve this.
To their loved ones, I am truly sorry that you will have to live on knowing that hole in your heart is where they once stood. You didn’t deserve this.
To those at the heart of the fight, I am sorry your nights are full of worry. I am sorry that your hearts are heavy. I am sorry you are exhausted. I am sorry that you carry so much. I am sorry that we live in a world where we still fight to be free.
I feel every bit of what you wrote here. The feeling not enough as a Mom even when the people you "Mom" tell you otherwise. The writing that won't come on a schedule. The sporadic thoughts that need to be written. The feeling of heavy sadness with this war. Thank you for giving a voice to all of these things.
😢 🧓