As it turns out, working anywhere from 80 to 100 hours a week for a solid four months is kind of a lot for one human to manage.
The good news:
I finished my Advanced EMT program with high honors and have my National Registry exam coming right up to get my certification and license.
I’m working full-time in dispatch, and I do EMS and fire on a part-time and on-call basis, but I am trying to keep it to between 36 and 50 hours a week.
Now that I’m done with class, my brain is finally able to work on books again. I’m into the revision stage on my non-fiction, Love You, Mean It, and making strong headway on my novel Walk Her Home. In addition, I’ve started the drafting process on a baby book and will be spending some quality time with water color paints as I work on illustrations.
The hard news:
In addition to an insane work load since the beginning of the year I’ve been dealing with health issues. I had a miscarriage in January, and another just before Mother’s Day; the physical strain and toll from January resulted in a couple visits to the emergency room as well. I am finally getting back to my usual self. I’ve been careful and gentle with myself over the last few weeks, and I’ve got good people in my corner taking care of me as well.
It’s been a hard year, with a lot of death and sorrow and sadness. Despite it all, the flowers are blooming and I am still here. Today can be good and tomorrow can worry about itself.
I’m enjoying a slower season these days. There is a lot of knitting and writing and walking and sleeping and reading. I am feeling myself grow and deepen and change, too, with the weight of motherhood thus far unrealized. I cannot control what happens next, but I can control my own actions and my own choices; in this in-between space I am settling down to work so that I am better prepared for my own little ones. I am slowing down and learning to pause, to sit with my thoughts and to be patient with myself and with others.
The summer stretches ahead of us, warm and bright and full of promise. I don’t know where it will lead, but I know that I am here and ready to enjoy the journey, even in its beautiful chaos.
Thanks for reading.
Love you, mean it.
-A
Oh. Annie. I’ve sent you some Facebook messengers. Be gentle to yourself. You are a special person. Sending you a hug. 💕💕
You are wise. Thank you for sharing your story.
Oh, Annie, you’ve been through a lot. Holding you in my heart. I’m so glad that you are able to slow down a bit and absorb the experiences and make them part of your journey of love.