The blank slate shakes

The last couple of weeks I’ve had a taste of my next new normal. Miguel is in rehearsals for Hamilton, Jackson has been at camp aaand… I’ve been home. This is the normal that I’ve been terrified of, where everyone else’s lives go on and mine stays right where it is, seemingly driftless and directionless.

It’s hard to look at the blank slate in front of me and not see the outlines of what has only recently been erased. I know I have this opportunity, and perhaps more importantly the financial freedom (thank you Hamilton), to make of my time whatever I want - but c’mon how intimidating is that? I can feel the shakes coming on just typing about it.

I have dreams of publishing books, going on public speaking tours, fundraising across the country for epilepsy research and normalizing disability. That path takes time, which I have an abundance of, but also energy and dedication, which currently seems to come and go in fits like lightening in a thunderstorm.

I’m trying to convince myself that that is ok. That this next phase of my life, Kelly 4.0, is not on a strict timeline. All I need to do is what feels right now - but patience has never been one of my strong suits (I can hear my family laughing now). Part of me wishes that I could be fulfilled with a stay-at-home mom life. If I just* managed our home, volunteered, wrote when I felt like it and binged the latest Netflix documentaries, certainly no one would be mad at me. But my gut says, “girl, you are crazy, there is no way that you can drown your ambition in laundry and meal planning.” Besides, I hate cooking.
*Please read this ‘just’ with sarcasm since being a SAHM is hard AF. Unfortunately, it’s just not a job that can fulfill me on its own.

Which brings me to a book update: after signing with an agent and sending my proposal and sample chapters to dozens of publishers, it turns out that, unless you have your own television show, it is pretty difficult to get a memoir published right now. We talked about altering the style of the book and I’ve considered self-publishing, but neither feel right at this time. I let myself be sad and disappointed about if for a few days. If I’m honest, the rejection of it all is still pretty raw, but I don’t know how many times I’ve heard from other writers about how their first book was rejected. Or about how they had to write other books first before they could publish their passion project. So, I guess add me to that list of scorned writers waiting for their day of vindication. As the scratch piece of paper I affixed to the window above my desk reminds me, “IT WILL HAPPEN.” It’s the when that remains a mystery. 

So, I’ve made the difficult decision to shelve Inchstones, (the memoir, not the blog) for the time being, and shift focus to the book I had planned on writing second: Normal Broken. Which will be a more prescriptive walk through my grief journey, sharing personal anecdotes and lessons I learned along the way. This pivot came to fruition fairly quickly because I always need a plan. I wouldn’t leave Adelaide’s doctors appointments without one and I can’t live my life now without one either. I know better than to sketch out a full flight path - cuz there is no telling where this plane lands - but more simply, what do I need to do to get off the ground? Or out of bed… or off the couch.

I’ve also had to remind myself that this time in my life - this day-to-day schedule (or lack there-of) - is temporary. As my responsibilities with CURE Epilepsy grow, as Jackson gets older, as our adoption process continues down its long and arduous path, that once blank slate will begin to fill in anew. This is not my forever life, this is my now life. It is very likely that six months from now I will wake up to an entirely different routine that includes a new family member and all the additional energy they will require. And then, sure enough, I will be longing for my blank slate days. Hopefully, future me will remember that each stage of life is temporary and to appreciate the precious moments, no matter how fleeting. 

But, knowing me, I’ll still be impatiently waiting for the next leg of the journey to take off because that’s how I roll.

Shakes and all.