There are a thousand-ish tabs open on my Chrome browser right now. My veins are buzzing with blood and dark chocolate as I sit here in a coffee shop with my inordinately large hot chocolate; my heartbeat is directly reflective of the amount of sugar coursing through me right now. And somehow my muscles are still feeling shaky from the two-and-a-half-minute plank I so ambitiously took on the other day after my husband boasted about having done a two-minute-ten-second one earlier on. (My competition levels are fierce.)
I'm at a major crossroads in my life; though I don't think this is particularly surprising news to anyone. It's been roughly nine months since I was laid off from my content editing job at a major Minneapolis ad agency, which catapulted me into a new variation on an old existence: I opted to grab the reins on my own life and take it to exactly where I wanted to go. I was going to be a full-time writer. (Well, and a full-time mother, wife, chauffeur, short-order cook, nail-biter, wine-drinker, stress-eater, etc. etc. You get the idea.)
And is it working out for me?
If my mental health and state of happiness are any indication, then I'll give it a resounding YES. But if my bank balance has the final say, then oh my god I'll be homeless by next week so NOPE.
So I've got these browser tabs open: I'm simultaneously exploring student loan forgiveness programs, writing grant opportunities, book proposal templates, and local office job openings I truthfully want zero to do with. The state of my browser is but an outward example of the chaos that's swirling through my mind. I'm floundering. I'm dipping my toes in so many different ponds I can't keep track — I can only tell that my feet are at this point dripping wet and I have no idea where to settle in.
Can I write a book? It's all I want to do. If only I could figure out how to get by. God, grant me patience, peace and some inherent feeling of purpose, would you? I'm ready for the next thing.
So is my body. Like maybe a glass of water.