The Weight of It All
I started writing this in an orthopedic doctor’s waiting room instead of in my home office. My day was planned - workout, write my Substack, and work on my book proposal before heading to school for my daughter’s honors convocation ceremony. But when my son texted me that he injured himself at school by doing a backflip adn landing on his knees during first hour, that all changed.
Luckily the doctor was able to see him that morning. The forty-five minute drive was pretty quiet, given his remorse and my taking the aux to play the music I wanted to play. And if you didn’t know better, you might think that the tears welling up in my eyes was from the fear of my son being hurt (I have anxiety, I thrive in emergencies, and I had a feeling he was not seriously hurt) or the lyrics of So Long, London (Taylor Swift’s new double album, The Tortured Poets Department has been on repeat since April 19).
But it was really from the weight of trying to become an author while being a mom. It was from wondering if I will ever get that book proposal done. It was from knowing being a good mom is one of the most important things in the world to me, and how that is often at direct odds of having this dream that won’t let me let go. Sometimes I imagine what it would feel like to just, let, go. Like when I was driving to the appointment, I could imagine myself almost opening my fist and releasing it, like the string of a balloon, so I could watch it drift away.
Almost.
But I just couldn’t because the thought of giving up made me sadder than the actual stress of playing Tetris with my time blocks, which if I’m being honest, lends itself to a particular brand of loneliness. See, both of these things, the responsibility of raising teens in a way that respects their humanity and the sheer ambition of pursuing a second-act in a creative field, require an incredible amount of vulnerability and concentration and time.
The whole thing can just feel rather isolating. So if that is you, if you are walking a tightrope while juggling all the things and just hoping you don’t fall down and drop anything, I see you. And I’m going to remind myself of something that may be helpful to you, too, and that is this shit is hard. It’s not you or your inefficiencies. You are enough, and this is a tough corner of the year.
And just to let you know - my son is fine. Nothing is broken, and we recheck in a week.
OK back to my book proposal!
We got this!!