Deep In It

I'm going the right way, I'm told.

I’m struggling to think of what to say. I’ve made commitments–to myself, to my family, to my nonprofit, to my book. Have I just opened another can of worms that I don’t have the capacity to manage by starting a Substack? 

The easy thing to do would be to skip this week. There’s no clear update-just the ground level, nitty gritty grind of tasks for my nonprofit and writing to accomplish among the (sometimes raging) current of managing my three children, while searching for joy among it all so I don’t completely give up on my dreams. 

I wonder about giving up, too. Like, what ambitions should I just set down for a while so there’s more peace in the day to day of my life? Would I have more peace if I hoped to achieve less?

I’ll say the obvious thing that may not be abundantly clear - I am our family’s main caregiver for our three children (ages 3, 5 and 7), which means I am the one who manages the majority of their days (the dressing, the help at the potty, preparing the food, packing the snacks, the tying of shoelaces, ushering out the door) while also managing my nonprofit (in the middle of our 11th run across America, go Team!) and trying to publish a book. My husband and I have done the math, like so many families have, and I’d have to make a lot more than my organization can pay me to hire help for the kids so I could manage more work.

I wonder where the disservice is. Is it to my nonprofit and the people we help, if more of my time could be allocated to the work? Or to my family, for splitting chunks of myself into too many buckets? Maybe it’s even to myself, for not appropriately managing ambition?

When I spend time in the quiet of my mind each morning, the message is clear: Stay the course. Hold steady. But some days (ok, most days) I don’t like that answer (especially when I am tired and frustrated), and I feel like screaming up at the sky, “I could use some help down here!”

I hopefully wonder: Is today the day the nonprofit receives a major financial sponsor? Will a literary agent find my work soon all on their own?

I’m not complaining (am I?). Let’s call this venting. I think I’d just like one of these things to feel as easy as my workouts do. Don’t get me wrong, my workouts are hard, but showing up isn’t hard! Flowing into the grind isn’t hard. Seeing results isn’t hard. Those parts are easy, and I am so very grateful for it.

So, back to the point. I’m here. Deep in the work. Finishing the most of what I am possibly capable of completing each day while trying to squeeze out 1% more of myself. My nonprofit’s event is approaching Steamboat Springs, CO. The book proposal is still in progress. I am so very proud of these things but so very frustrated it’s all not more than where it is currently. I often wonder if my inner work right now is this: accepting that I am both proud and frustrated all at the same time.

I finished the draft of this entry and went into my day, closing my computer and preparing to feed the tiny bodies I hear rummaging around in their bedrooms upstairs. Forty minutes later, while standing at the kitchen island cutting a pineapple for breakfast, my son AJ says (without any prompting or conversation, I was deep in thought.), “Mommy.” I look at him and reply, “Yes, buddy?” His crystal blue eyes stare at me with a smile, “You’re going the right way.”