I’ve been accused by my other-half as having an "always sunny" attitude about life, but I just consider myself an eternal optimist - it runs in my family. And you’ll find my work usually does end on a positive note, even if it takes a few tears to get there.
Writing for me began in second grade when my first book was “published” by my elementary school library. It was titled My Brother the Brat and many MANY years later, my family is still so much of my inspiration (said brother pictured below).
My senior year of high school, I took a creative writing class and my teacher kept telling me I needed to “do something” with my writing...but I didn’t. After college, I worked for nearly 12 years at advertising agencies where I learned invaluable skills from very smart people, but writing faded into the background. And if I’m being honest with myself, I was also comfortable. I kept chugging along in my job because comfort is sturdy, comfort is steady - it feels good to be comfortable.
But a little discomfort can shake a little something loose, which I quite literally learned when, at 34 weeks pregnant, a discomfort in my lower back suddenly lead to my water breaking all over the front seat of our car as my husband and I drove home from our first parenting class. Within two hours, I found myself thrust into motherhood, a role I foolishly thought 20ish years of babysitting had prepared me to tackle. It was happy, of course, but motherhood was also heavy and hard, and something I never remembered seeing in the face of my own mom. Either she hid it really well, or I was just now understanding why she stayed up until midnight playing Tetris or mowed the lawn even though she had four perfectly capable children inside the house.
Writing came back to me on a Wednesday morning last August as I found myself ugly-crying on a yoga mat. As I drove home from the class, still teary-eyed with my two kids in the backseat, I had an epiphany about that discomforting moment when I became a mother five years earlier. And I thought other mothers might just relate to it too.
When I got home, I pulled out my laptop and quickly typed out the experience as the tears continued to cascade down my face. I Googled “Parenting Blogs” and submitted my story to a site that looked professional and paid their writers. I did it all in about an hour and waited.
They published it, and the comments from readers, especially from other moms, was so overwhelming, it gave me the confidence to write more and rediscover a love that had been dormant in me for over a decade. One friend also said to me, "Isn't it amazing? Words matter." which made me reflect on the stories I'd read and words that were shared with me that helped me feel less alone in new parenthood. I started to think maybe I could pay forward my gratitude with words of my own.
I currently work for an amazing company, the owners of which both encouraged me to create this site to house my published work and even helped me set it up. They also live by their company value “vulnerability precedes progress" and I see that as kind of what I’m doing here - putting myself out there in the hope that my words might connect with a reader who will nod, laugh, and/or cry along with me. And maybe feel a little bit less alone too.
Thanks for being here and thanks for reading.