Tears: Sometimes I think my life can be split into two parts, PK (pre-kiddo), and AK (after-kiddo). PK, I was made of stone. I rarely cried in my real life, never mind shedding tears over a plot line. It wasn't that I didn't feel sad, of course I did. I just didn't cry. AK, I weep. A lot. I weep when I think of sad things. I weep when I watch sad movies and television shows. And I definitely weep when I read sad books. So you can guess what kind of state I was in after reading The Fault in our Stars by John Green this week, right? There were tears during and there were tears after. I don't regret my ability to access my sadness in a more physical way now. In fact, I kind of like it. After a good long cry I feel somehow…sated. As if the act of crying has somehow helped to shape and contain the sadness it was connected to. I've always envied people who cry easily and while it's still difficult for me to cry at the drop of the hat, it's easier now than it used to be. And that's nothing to cry about.
Patience: I'm about halfway through writing Unknown, the second book in my All Good Things trilogy. I'm enjoying the process of writing this book and so far, I've been pleased with what I've learned along the way. But there's a part of me that is itching to move on. Not to leave Rachel and Eaden behind for good (there will be a book three at some point, I promise you), but because there are other ideas starting to push to the front of the line. I'm trying to breathe deeply through these urges to start another project because frankly, I just don't think I'd be able to multitask (see Balance) well enough to stay sane. Instead, I'm trying to see this as my opportunity to practice patience. I think it requires the kind of faith I don't always have - faith that there is ENOUGH of everything. Time, opportunity, resources. I'll let you know how it turns out.
And Ronan was everything that was left: molten eyes and a smile made for war. - Maggie Stiefvater
5. Balancing Act: Earlier this week I came across this video that suggests that "busy is the new fine." It's not the first time I've been called to take stock of how I fill my time and it likely won't be the last. The hardest part about making my life less busy is trying to figure out what I would give up. In some ways, it's an embarrassment of riches. I love my family, I love my friends, I love my job, I love to write, I love to read. But trying to fit them all in a way that makes sense is hard. I think I'm managing better than I ever have before, but I realize that as life long Type A, that might not mean very much. Instead, I've adopted the idea that there will always be something I neglect, no matter how hard I try. The trick might be to ensure that no one part of my life is neglected more than any other part. Deep down, I think I stubbornly resist the idea that I can't do it all. Why can't I? Or at least, why can't I try?