A little bit of this, a little bit of that
What happens when we notice the small, seemingly insignificant things
The last two months-ish have felt like a jarring whirlwind of highs and lows. Supposedly, this was the year that I was going to take writing on Substack “seriously”.
I believe that meant being more consistent and showing up with a bit more clarity and focus. But who am I kidding? I’ve never quite been that person. I’ve tried and continue to try. The universe has a not-so-funny way of reminding me that there is no need to be that person…or even attempt to be.
It started with the never-ending executive orders that fried my nervous system as I tried to navigate how to show up for my non-binary child. The fear and stress from trying to keep myself informed eventually caught up with me.
At the end of February, I had a recurring strep throat infection which landed me in the hospital because my blood was also infected. THAT was not on my bingo card for 2025. My husband half-jokingly mentioned that the previous week I was saying all I wanted was three full days where nobody needed me and I could just rest and watch bad TV.
The universe delivered—just not in the way I had imagined. To be honest, lying in that hospital bed for three days did help me put things into perspective. After being told that I would get to leave on day 2 and then told that, no, I couldn’t quite leave yet, I finally released some of the pent-up emotions I had been holding on to.
Sometimes trying to seem like I have it all together in front of my children does that to me. Not in the sense that I don’t burn food or lose the car keys almost every day. But in the sense that I know what I am doing for the big picture things. Like trying to cover the fact of how terrified I am at all the terrible possibilities for LGBTQA+ children out there.
Something very interesting happened that night. I’ve been reflecting on what it was exactly and how I got to this place. For the first time in my 37—almost 38—years, I was there for myself.
I literally held my own hand under the hospital pillow, allowing all the tears to come out, and reminded myself that I was not alone. It was incredible! I mean, I’ve heard of people who do this all the time. They can sit with their big feelings in times in hardship and know that things are going to be okay. But I always assumed it was like this celebratory cheer, “It will be okay!” sort of thing.
This wasn’t like that at all. It was my Self that showed up, that version of me who has my best interest at heart. I’ve felt this presence before when I was writing my stories of the 12 parts of me in 2023. But I had never been comforted by her in this way. And let me tell you, it was quite magical.
Holding my hand, I reminded myself that it made sense I was so upset. I imagined all those parts of me who were mad, scared, bored, annoyed…all of those things. And what they all needed the most was just to have the space to show up, to let me know that this situation sucked and how intense the feelings were.
I did just that, I allowed the characters (that’s what I call them) to release what they were holding on to and reminded them that their job was not to be in charge. That there was a much wiser and calmer essence that could hold all of them. I imagine this is how children feel when they are raised by emotionally mature and present parents. What a freaking gift.
I finally got out of the next afternoon, but this experience really shook me in the best of ways. It all finally clicked. The reason for writing these stories and eventually a very crappy first draft of a middle-grade novel was so much more than getting words on paper…or screen. Something legit changed in the wiring in my brain after writing these stories and getting to know these parts of myself.
How freaking cool is that?!?!
Life moved fast after that, my youngest turned 5 and work kept me busy. Spring break rolled along and we went on an epic family vacation. Of course, all of the other things have been sandwiched through all of this. The moments of advocating for my child, the legal steps we are taking to make sure they have the life they deserve, the social engagements of today’s world, the calling representatives and staying on top of what is going on politically, the medical appointments that seem never-ending these past few weeks. So many highs and so many lows. Some scary moments and some exciting moments.
What I have noticed since that night in the hospital though, is that I am no longer moving from a place of fear. I feel confident that there is a version of me that knows exactly what to do next. She knows where to pivot, how to set boundaries with her mother, how to show up lovingly, and how to fight for what she believes in. Yes, of course, I still feel afraid of all sorts of things. But never of feeling alone again. Because that’s just a lie. One that I believed for my entire life.
And now, I feel like I can move on to write my less crappy second draft of this novel. Maybe I had to live this part of the story in my personal life. I had to know FOR SURE what this feeling was and why it mattered so much.
So yes, there’s been a little bit of this and a little bit of that. And in the middle of it all, there is the noticing of those 1-degree turns that can be life-changing when compacted over time.
I hope that you get to notice those small moments for yourself. These small moments are the big moments. And maybe, my writing will be less about consistency and more about pointing out these small moments.