by Joey | May 31, 2016 | Throwback
The weird thing is, I lived in the same home, in the same room, my entire childhood until the day I left for college. So you might be surprised to hear that I felt itchy, desperate, panicked to move a few months ago for the umpteenth time in my adult life.
Everything felt wrong. Things weren’t working out like I’d hoped. I was blind to the good, focused on all the things that felt like they didn’t fit. I needed out. I needed out.
A recovering football wife, it’s in my blood to move pretty much every 18 months. Since our wedding day six years ago, my husband and I have packed up our lives and started over more times than I’d like to count. (It’s five times, in case you’re really just that nosey. I would be). You become accustomed to the rhythm. You get addicted to the impermanence. Nothing matters that much because you’ll be packing your bags and leaving soon anyway. Life was temporary. Always.
When we moved to Charlotte fifteen months ago, it was with the intentions to stay. The concept delighted me. I fancied the idea of really sinking my teeth in to the town I so desperately missed when we left it the last time. Staying had to be easier than moving every eighteen months. Right?
Turns out, staying, for someone who has spent the majority of her adult life leaving, isn’t that easy.
I wasn’t happy. And when that’s happened in the past, I’d just have to hold on a little longer, it’d be over soon enough. But when you’re staying? What do you do then?
On a call with a friend, I processed everything out loud. I explained why I wasn’t happy. But moving isn’t the answer here, they explained, calling me on my number one flaw. When shit gets hard, it’s easier to leave. I’ve lived in a world where I could avoid the tough decisions because our circumstances always made them for me.
There’s something terrifying and equally exhilarating in taking control of your life, one tough decision after another.
That call, those words from my friend, woke me up. I heard them on repeat constantly, every time I felt the need to flee. They brought the real issues into focus, and the solution? Face things head on. Make the tough decisions. Take control.
All those things are outside my nature; they make me feel uncomfortable. But which is worse? Discomfort or unhappiness? The thing about discomfort is it forces you to grow. If you let it sink in, if you absorb it in, letting it fill every inch of you, you’ll find that it’ll change you.
And trust me,
that’s definitely not a bad thing.
These days? I’m leaning into the discomfort. I’m making the tough decisions and owning my choices.
And I’m staying.
by Joey | May 25, 2016 | Throwback
I went for a run this morning.
Immediately after I finished, I wanted to post a picture to instagram. I know some people hate those types of posts, but I like them because they keep me motivated, and they keep me connected to people like me.
But the truth is, I hesitated. It doesn’t fit your brand, I thought to myself. And there, I found the problem.
I’ve been complaining that I don’t feel like myself a lot lately. And that’s true, I don’t. But I’m in a transition, shedding layers and building new beginnings. But do you remember
my post about the puzzle pieces?
As important as it is to determine which puzzle pieces still fit, it’s more important to actually keep those pieces active. To let them be a part of you. Otherwise, you’re just an empty canvas, waiting.
So I posted the picture. I’m a runner. And a writer. A wife, and a friend. I’m an eternal optimist even though life has epically proven that shit happens.
Social media has made a lot of us obsessed with the idea of branding ourselves. Curated feeds only tell part of the story. And who wants to be half a person?
I don’t know about you, but I like the messy parts of life. I like knowing I’m not the only one sporting a bandaid on my finger after a tragic shaving incident that resulted in a nicked nail. I like knowing that I’m not the only one who walks in the door after the longest day ever and eats a bowl of ice cream for dinner. I like knowing I’m not the only one who wakes up looking like someone smashed my face in with a baseball bat. #IwokeUpLikeThis.
I’m a fan of real life. I want to hear about your successes, but I also want to be there for you in your failures.
I want the whole story.
by Joey | May 24, 2016 | Throwback
It’s 5:30AM. My husband is still asleep on the couch where he fell asleep watching TV last night, and the cat is pawing at my lap, begging for more cuddles.
But I’m staring bleary eyed at my computer. It’s too early to put in my contacts, and I’m too stubborn/lazy to put on my glasses.
My alarm sounded at 5. I pulled myself from my cozy bed and checked my todo list for the day. You may not know this, but Myra and I are launching a business soon. And it dawned on me that we haven’t really talked much about it online.
And that’s a problem.
It’s a problem because when we do launch, it’ll appear like this business just materialized out of nowhere. That these two little brunettes stomped into the world and blew up like firecrackers.
And oh, my gosh, is that so untrue.
That’s the problem with the internet, in my opinion. All we see is the after. We rarely see the messy middle. When this business launches, you won’t see the three hour phone call I had with Myra explaining my fears when I was going at this solo when suddenly it occurred to me to bring her on. You won’t see the countless hours spent on the website. You won’t see the hundreds of international phone calls scheduled around a six hour time difference hammering out packaging deals and debating business language.
We all do this thing where we like to act as if everything is easy, no big deal. I’m not that person. In some ways, getting this business set up has been the easiest thing I’ve ever done. I’m working with my best friend. I’ve happily traded in sleep for work that I enjoy while still balancing a full-time job. I’ve allowed my creativity to flourish, taking on a life of its own.
But the truth is, there is so much work that goes into building and launching a business. I’ve had my nose stuck in business books for months. I’ve sat in hours upon hours of online classes. I’ve spent all day on a website page only to delete it the next day because it wasn’t good enough.
But in a few days, Myra and I will casually announce that we’re boss. We’ll tell you how you can hire us. Our passion and giddiness will take the internet by storm, and we’re so excited. But remember this, it takes work. A lot of freaking work.
And guess what? You can do it, too. I think we all get so caught up in everybody’s afters that we get discouraged. We dive into our dreams and quit halfway through because they don’t look as dreamy as someone else’s. I assure you, their dream was once messy, hard, and ugly, too, they just didn’t share it.
This is the messy middle.
The part that doesn’t look so dreamy (but in some very strange screwed up way feels dreamy).
Keep going. The dreamy is worth it.
by Joey | May 18, 2016 | Throwback
A friend texted me last night and asked me how book #2 was coming.
It’s not, I replied.
I racked my brain searching for a reason, and I had plenty, but they all sounded like excuses. Because they are.
The truth is, life got busy. I got wrapped up in work. My family is dealing with loss. And hello turning thirty is a full-time job. Side note: why is that? Did any of you go through some type of life reevaluation in the months leading up to your thirtieth birthday? I leapt right over reevaluation and went straight into destruction and reinvention mode. It’s exhausting.
Point being, I stopped making writing a priority. Whether it was an intentional choice or not (it wasn’t), that’s the reality I’m dealing with in this moment. And I’ll be honest, I felt a tad bit annoyed that my friend was asking. How dare they make me feel guilty about this, I thought. And that’s just ludicrous. They took a special interest in me and the things I keep important. It’s my own fault if I feel guilty. And more importantly, it’s my own fault that there’s anything to feel guilty about in the first place.
At some point, I started putting everyone and everything else as a priority over myself and what I hold important. That happens sometimes; it’s called life. But when that becomes a problem is when you don’t recognize it and don’t do anything to fix it.
Oddly, I’m learning a lot about myself lately. The time I spent in Buies Creek, while lonely, served as an important benchmark I use to monitor my happiness. I might have been lonely, but I was the happiest I’ve ever been while we lived there. My marriage was in the best shape it’s ever been. The two things to recognize about that period of time are 1) I was spending a great deal of time with myself, and 2) J and I were both spending our days doing exactly what we wanted to do for work.
I’ve been unusually unhappy lately. And when I’m unhappy, I don’t write. I obsess over my emotions and drain myself of any creative juices by agonizing over how my life doesn’t feel like my own. The solution there might sound simple: spend more time with myself and spend more time writing. And yes, those absolute key elements to finding my happy.
But everything fits together like a puzzle. I’ve been taking each piece, holding it in my hand and carefully considering if it fit’s into my puzzle anymore. And maybe you’re struggling with something similar, feeling overwhelmed and like you’ve lost control over your life.
I’d like to encourage you to do the same. Take each piece of your life, analyze it. Ask yourself if it serves a purpose or brings you joy. Don’t get confused over whether its served a purpose, that’s not the question being asked here. The question is is it currently serving a purpose. If the answer is no, reevaluate. Consider other pieces, ones that might not be a part of your current puzzle and ask yourself if maybe that piece fits better.
For me, my puzzle will always be filled with writing, connecting, running, alone time, and my marriage. The other pieces? Well, those just come and go.
by Joey | May 17, 2016 | Throwback
I’m scared down to my bones.
And it feels so good.
I spent Sunday night googling Mercury in Retrograde at my kitchen counter with Amanda. She’d been hearing about it all over the place, and truthfully so had I. But I tend to take things with a basic understanding and just assumed that the planets had shifted (as they often do periodically, which I learned from my brother’s space obsession growing up), and that the shift somehow messes with our mental faculties.
Turns out, I was pretty right. Mercury in retrograde is when the planet looks like it’s going backwards in the sky. I’m not an astrologist nor do I really care to find out why it does this, that’s not really the point here.
The point is that it’s believed that Mercury rules communication, clear thinking, truth and travel. And when Mercury seems to be going backwards, all those things do, too. Be cautious, I’ve been warned. Mercury is in retrograde. Like it’s something to fear, to be prepared for.
It seems the retrograde (is that the right terminology here? I’m new at this) will last until May 22, this coming Sunday, after starting on the 28th of April.
And I’ll confess, my life has seemed to be all kinds of backwards since then. I made some big, no huge decisions in the last few weeks. I allowed myself to be honest in situations that I’d been holding my tongue about for far too long. I’d been feeling trapped in a truth that no longer felt like it fit, and I said so.
I got clear about what I want and spoke the truth around it. And maybe for me, that is backwards. And maybe that’s not exactly a bad thing.
I feel like sometimes the decisions that were once right for our lives start to hold us back, or worse pull us backward. But because they were once right, we feel loyal to the choice, afraid to change things up. Scared to accept that it’s time to move on.
I don’t know if Mercury and it’s cosmic behavior is to blame for any of this, but if it is, I’m thankful. It pushed me outside of myself. It turned things
backwards in the best way.
When everything feels like it’s falling apart,
hold on tight.
Because it usually means things are falling into place.
