Once again, it’s been too long since I’ve posted on my blog. I don’t mean to silent for such long stretches—the days just kind of slip one into the other until months have gone by. But that’s something I think most of us are dealing with right now, whether or not we’re trying to keep up with a blog.
In the blur since I last posted, I’ve taken a new job. It should come as no surprise to those who know me that it wasn’t at all the path I was expecting. An old boss reached out to offer me a marketing position. I turned him down at first, didn’t even hear what he had to say because I was so focused on getting that teaching certificate. But as the weeks ticked by, I kept thinking about what he’d said and how much I’d enjoyed working with him before. So I reached out, figuring I’d just hear him out. Two weeks later, I was sitting at my new desk, the brand manager for an exciting new startup in Springfield.
In retrospect, I’m abundantly happy I didn’t let me tunnel vision make my decision for me. It’s been a little over a month since I started the job, amd I love it, I love the company, and I love what we’re building. Although me and teaching is starting to feel like Ben and the accounting firm on Parks & Rec.
Part of that job is a weekly blog. I hope you’ll check it out if you have the time. Especially if you have trouble sleeping—our products can legit help. I’ve had more sleep in the past month than ever in my life. I’m still not caught up, but I’m getting there. I’m almost human again. And I’ve turned into a bit of a sleep dork, so don’t be surprised if that spills over onto this blog.
My year of learning and growing continues. I’m not quite ready to publicly process it all—certainly not as transparently as I did in the My Own After Series, but I’m sure my experiences will find their way into books. They always do. A friend commented this morning that she came across a picture of me from last summer and was struck by how much I’ve changed, how much healthier I am, physically and emotionally. Some days I feel it more than others, but I’m grateful to be surrounded by people who remind me of it when I can’t see it for myself.
Speaking of books, I’d planned to run a post about the novels on tap for this year. But the thing is, I’m struggling to write romance novels. For years, I’ve written the world not as I’ve seen it, but how I wished it to be. I’m not sure I can do that anymore. I have several almost-finished novels on my hard drive that I just can’t seem to force myself to wrap up. Because they don’t feel genuine.
The love stories that tumbled from my fingers once upon a time were a fun ideal, but one I’m not sure exists. Real love is so much messier. Real love—romantic or otherwise—hurts like hell. I feel like I need to capture that, but it scares me. Writing, under the best of circumstances, is how I grapple with the emotions and events in my world. If I tangle with my emotions head-on right now, it could be some of my most powerful writing yet. But it could also break me.
I suspect the books that do finally surface will either be career suicide or my breakout hits. Because so much of my brand is Happy Heather. That’s something that even bleeds into my everyday life. It’s who people expect me to be. But lately, I’m kinda feeling a bit more like Sassy Heather. We’ll see how she goes over.
I do know that I’m trying very hard to find my way back to a house on some land. I’ve hardly seen my horses since they’ve been staying with friends. Once a month isn’t nearly enough. I miss my girls, deeply. Yesterday I stood in the muddy pasture, hugging my Daisy’s neck while Pip tried to steal my sunglasses. I breathed in the scent of them and all the bad things in my world seemed to fade away, if only for that moment. And I knew in that moment that I’m not me without my girls. They keep me centered and they keep me from being pulled under when the storms of life threaten to drown me.
So, I don’t know exactly what 2018 holds for me, but I’m curious to see how it all shakes out, curious to see what books finally make their way to the page once the log jam in my brain unsnarls.
Thanks for bearing with me as I figure it out.
Rolling hills that had been vibrant green just weeks ago were now muted in tone, as if they were taking a deep breath before bursting into the song of fall.