by Joey | Jul 14, 2016 | Throwback
You know that first week of school feeling? You’ve got all new supplies that you can’t wait to use. You have your brand new outfits laid out, perfectly planned for each day of the week. And you’ve promised yourself that you’re going to stay on top of homework, making sure you get it done right when you get home no excuses, ok?
And then week number three rolls around. You can’t see the floor of your bedroom and you can’t even
find that super expensive binder that
omg-you-absolutely-had-to-have-or-you’ll-flunk-math-do-you-want-me-to-flunk-math-Mom!?!?
Been there.
Done that.
Sorry, Mom.
I admitted last week that I’ve been trying to figure out systems and routines, anything to make the work-from-home day go smoothly. I had a momentary thought as I was placing strawberries atop my yogurt as my dessert that huh…it doesn’t matter how old we get, that first week of school feeling still exists.
Case in point: desserts are my coping mechanism. Always has been, always probably will be. So after a month full of omg-this-is-really-happening-what-have-I-done-was-this-a-mistake-no-okay-it’s-not thoughts, I realized I’d eaten an ungodly number of desserts…a day. I suddenly heard myself saying out loud to my husband “I’m trying not to have any desserts anymore, not in the traditional sense, anyway.”
New routine. New declarations.
Happens every time.
It’s a joke, really, because everyone knows I can’t possibly go without sugar. It’s just not something I’ll do. But for now I’ve told myself that I’m allowed to have my normal coffee (creamer, lattes, whatever), but the only “desserts” I’m allowed are fruit and yogurt. I have no idea why I’m doing this. And I don’t think it’ll end up mattering, but I just found the whole thought process slightly amusing.
My favorite part of becoming an adult
was being allowed to eat desserts whenever I wanted.
So this will be interesting, huh?
I figured this whole new structure to my life was a good opportunity to track and change some habits. I’d gotten painfully lazy toward the end of my day-job, just feeling completely burnt out. I used to really enjoy keeping my home, meal prepping, and establishing well-being habits. Turns out when you’re doing all those things for someone else’s life, you tend to sweep your needs and habits under the rug. So it’s time to start anew.
I’m using a bullet journal-type system to help me keep track of things so I can evaluate at the end of the month and adjust as needed.
The whole concept of bullet journaling fascinates me, but I just don’t have a need for most of it. If you’re interested, though, you can find
a full run down here.
I only started on the 9th, but it’s already pretty evident where my priorities really lie. There are some things I can already tell you from now just won’t factor it. Either because I realize I just don’t care, or because I incorporated them inapropriately (I should have broken down the cleaning rather than stating a “Full Clean.” I don’t operate that way).
Anyway, we’ll see how it all goes. I’ll do an end of month report to loop y’all in.
Tell me, do you bullet journal in any way?
I’ll do a whole breakdown of how I plan to use it soon!
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by Joey | Jul 12, 2016 | Writing
It was March of 2014, and I was in the middle of the first round of revisions on the novel I’d written five years earlier.
After a long day buried in my own words, I found retreat on the couch, my nose tucked in a book. I read furiously, lost in the world created by a writer much more talented than I. Hours later, I finished the book and proceeded to have a mental breakdown.
I locked myself in my bedroom, sobbing hysterically, and furiously texting Myra.
“My book is shit, Myra. SHIT!”
Across the world in the Philippines, she was just waking up for the day. She tried to talk me off the ledge, offering words of encouragement.
“I’m wasting my time,” I told her. “I don’t even know why I’m bothering. I’m not proud of this at all. In fact, I’m embarrassed by it. I can’t put this out there for the world to see.”
I went to bed that night defeated, my heart absolutely crushed as I tried to convince myself to let go of my dream to be a writer. It’s just easier not to want it I reasoned with myself.
I woke up the next morning with a feeling of dread. At a crossroads, I had a big choice to make. The book had been shoved in closets, tucked in drawers and generally ignored for the better part of 5 years, so why did I feel so attached to it?
You see, I got caught in the comparison trap. For days, days I was convinced it was time to let it all go. I couldn’t do it. I’d never be good enough. Quitting, I told myself, would hurt less than failing.
It’s hard, though, to remember the behind-the-scenes work when you’re looking at someone’s finished product. Foolishly, I was convinced all these writers I so admired cranked out pure gold all the time.
It took some time. I filled those days with a lot of tears, wine, and chocolate, contemplating what my life would look like without writing.
I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t let it go. It was then that I wrestled with the fact that if I couldn’t, in fact, let it all go, that it meant I had to do something about it.
It meant more work.
It meant more effort.
It meant challenging myself.
It meant stepping into uncomfortable waters and trying to stay afloat.
It meant pushing myself to be better.
It scared me, making the decision to accept my first draft as exactly that, a draft. I used it as a guideline, ripping it open at its seams and filling it full of twist and turns, development and story.
I rewrote almost every word of my original manuscript in three months.
I worked harder than I’d ever worked on anything a day in my life. I felt electric, full of energy, terrified but simultaneously excited.
It was exhilarating, pushing myself to be better than I thought I could be.
I danced dangerously close to the line of giving it all up in the name of comparison and envy. Instead, I used it. I let that feeling sink in, fueling me.
We let ourselves confuse admiration with jealousy and comparison. If you let yourself admire someone rather than compare yourself to them, you’ll find a whole different brand of energy there.
So use it.
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by Joey | Jul 7, 2016 | Throwback
I had a meeting last week to interview a chef of a cafe in Raleigh. My new gig let’s me do stuff like that and call it work. I really can’t believe this is my life these days.
Anyway, my mom and aunt made a date out of the outing. So they sat and gabbed while I did my thing. Win/Win.
Now, I’m the baby of my family. The youngest of five extremely opinionated, successful individuals. I’ve mentioned a time or two that it’s been tough (at least inside my head) to break free from the baby-box. Mentors warned me as I was growing up that no matter how old or how successful I might be, I’d always be the baby, and that I’d need to get used to that.
That’s a hard pill to swallow.
I’ve struggled with it over the years, this identity that I didn’t choose and I couldn’t escape. It’s probably much bigger in my head than in reality, a hard distinction to make on your own.
When my dad passed away, something shifted, changed. Suddenly, within the perimeters of this family unit we all had our distinct roles and purposes. Valued. My perspective started to change. My confidence started to slowly ignite. This one defining moment shifting us from child to adult.
So last week, while I did my thing, my aunt and mom chatted, seemingly ignoring me. When we got home, my mom shared that my aunt confessed that she’d never seen me in business mode before, that I seemed so “professional.” It made me laugh, but it also helped me realize something.
Our lives are generally compartmentalized. I rarely see my husband doing his thing at work and vice versa. My family rarely sees me outside of baby-sister-mode. I didn’t hang out in my mom’s cubicle growing up, watching her work. We have all these different versions of ourselves, and the only one who truly knows each and every side is us.
I held onto that uncertainty, the boxed in mentality for so long that it never occurred to me that maybe we don’t have to let go of each of our identities. Maybe one has nothing to do with the other. I can be the baby sister and the business owner. The writer and the wife. The believer and the friend.
by Joey | Jul 5, 2016 | Throwback
For true transparency, I’m writing this post on a Sunday. Sunday of a holiday weekend, no less. I’m catching up on work today because I was struck down with some serious cramps on Friday, the day I was meant to knock out all my content writing.
So instead of writing on Friday, I laid on my couch eating Thai takeout and caught up on last week’s Bachelorette episode.
That’s the thing about working for yourself that somehow confuses people. When people hear I work for myself I think they envision every one of my days being like Friday afternoon. When in reality, it took Myra threatening me to get me to shut down my computer and give up for the day. I so desperately wanted to go into the holiday weekend with my todo list completed, knowing if I didn’t, I’d be where I am today: catching up on work when everyone else is out playing.
Working for yourself is a series of choices. While we have the freedom to do whatever we please each day, we have to hold ourselves to a disciplined standard.
Of course I don’t feel like working some mornings when I wake up. I was knee deep in season 2 of How to Get Away With Murder last week, and it was like torture pulling myself away from the TV long enough to squeeze in a work day, but somehow I managed.
On the other hand, there are some evenings when I can’t turn off. J worked late one night last week, and it was only when my stomach started growling to the point that it actually hurt that I realized it was 8:30 and I hadn’t stopped working yet.
I had a nice groove going when we lived in Buies Creek. It was easier then, honestly. J worked unreasonably long days, and I was all alone in the middle of nowhere. The only way to keep myself occupied was to find projects to work on. I was wildly productive but lonely.
The reality is, while Myra and I have been hustling it out creating a dream job for ourselves, work is still work. And sometimes we just don’t want to do it. Someone wiser than me once said
don’t get too precious about the work when asked how they achieved such success.
I think I get it now.
Some days the work looks dreamy, a day full of fun conversations with my business bestie and designing brands when other days the work is discussing our finances to make sure we don’t get taxed twice by it looking like we’re taking out dividends. I still don’t understand what I’m saying in that last sentence, and that’s what a good portion of last week looked like. I thank my lucky stars every single day that Myra is the CFO.
If I woke up each day and only functioned by the thought of okay, what do I feel like doing today, I’d watch a whole hell of a lot of Netflix and possibly get some writing done. I definitely wouldn’t send out any client quotes. I wouldn’t edit photos or spend half a day in illustrator fighting with a font. It’s not about what I feel like, it’s about getting the work done.
It’s getting done.
Bu I’m still figuring it out.
by Joey | Jun 30, 2016 | Writing
At the start of this year, I made a very specific but overly unlikely goal.
I want to buy a new car, I said. And I want to pay for it with writing.
At the time of that statement, I was blogging regularly but otherwise not actively writing. And to be honest, my intention behind that goal was to acquire an agent, secure a publisher, snag a book deal,
and buy a car.
That’s what success looked like to me at that time. That’s what writing looked like to me at that time.
So what if I told you that I bought a car in February, and as of this month, I’m paying for it with writing.
You all know I left my job at the start of June. I’d tucked away a little money, and I launched a business with a friend. The only thing unaccounted for when I left my job was my car payment. I told myself that I was resourceful and that I’d figure it out.
A few months ago, the Charlotte Agenda put a call out for writers. Every friend in the area screen-shot the posting and sent it to me. You have to do this, they said. Panic and fear bubbled into my throat. Sure, I said. I’ll apply, I lied, then promptly put it out of my mind. I can’t do that, I told myself. I’m not a real writer.
As you know, we lost my dad in January. My mom, still at the house I grew up in, lives in Raleigh. The loss was a huge part of my decision to leave my job. I craved the freedom to work remotely, especially from my mom’s kitchen table. I wanted the opportunity to spend more time in Raleigh without committing to move there.
One day after I put in my notice, I saw a tweet that the Charlotte Agenda was expanding to….you guessed it…Raleigh.
Without hesitation, I sent in an email. I figured it was a long shot anyway, so I rationalized that if I didn’t get it, no big deal.
Well. I got it.
I returned home late last night after spending a quick 48 hours in Raleigh, conducting interviews, snapping pictures, scoping out stories, and spending time with my mom. I got there and back safely in the car I pay for with writing.
Be stubborn about your goals but flexible about your methods.
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