The Day I Realized I Can't Do It All. And, I'm Damn Exhausted.

I hit the wall.

The wall has been hit.


I smacked my little head against the brick and mortar at 100 MPH.

4:30am, I'm wide awake. I have a third book to complete. I have curriculum to prepare. There is laundry in the dryer. The shower needs cleaning. My legs need shaving. The dog had an accident on the rug. Ortho appointment. Groomer. I have to fit in my exercises.  

Head meet wall.  

I admitted to myself this fine Tuesday morning that, I can't do it all. I just can't. 

I am asked quite often, "How do you do it all? How do you homeschool, write books, and clean the house?" I reply, "I don't know?" I'm not being modest or cute. I seriously don't know. I used to think I could or I was or I did. 

You know what happens when I write for two years? I don't eat, but when I do, it's not all that healthy. I drink wine to calm the voices that command me to keep typing. I gain weight and one day I look in the mirror and say, "What the hell happened?"

You know what happens when I homeschool Logan? I beam. I'm in my happy place. I'm watching my son evolve into an awesome young man filled with knowledge and respect for life and people. I stop and remember that I have to finish laundry, vacuum, clean, paint the guest bedroom, exercise the two years of wine and crap.

When I'm reading. I'm not writing. When I'm schooling. I'm not cleaning. When I'm exercising. I'm not writing. 

I don't ask for help. I hate asking my husband to do the dishes or put the laundry away. Not because he's a douchecanoe. Further from it, in fact, he gets upset when I don't ask. I have the mentality of, he's been working all day. I know I have as well, but it's my pride. My pride is a stubborn wench. But, she was punched in the throat today. 

Now what?

Well, I plan on going to bed early and, I'll wake up tomorrow and it will be the best day ever (Logan's motto). I will be awesome. I will be fabulous. And, I will fail. What I won't complete tomorrow, I have the next day, and the next day. And, God willing, I will continue to wake up each morning until I'm 100 years old. 

I can't do it all. But, I'm doing something. 

My son is watching me and Phil do something. We are contributing to--life

My brain is mush today, but I will super glue it back together, (after I take a damn nap), and I will succeed and fail teaching, writing, mothering, wifeing?, daughtering, cleaning...because I can't do it all. 

We can't do it all. 
And, that's OK!

It's OK to hit the wall.
Don't physically, I don't want a lawsuit. 

Being an author isn't some adorable hobby, I found meowing under my porch. It's my job. I work. Contrary to what some may think. Teaching my son is work. His educational success rests on my shoulders. No pressure. I flit through social media sites throughout the day, that doesn't mean I'm not doing something pertaining to my existence.

So, go do something...anything. Even if you crash into the wall and your pride crashes and burns. 
At least you are leaving your mark on the wall.

That's all you're getting for a metaphor. 



While wearing my tiara.


  1. I think I've met my twin! Had the same kinda post a week or so ago. Just hit me that day that I can't do everything but I do the best I can with what I have.

  2. I can't do it all, either. But I tried. And that culminated into daily migraines (I am assuming, or it at least contributed) and a basic mental and emotional breakdown. I just couldn't do it anymore. I fell completely apart. Thank the cosmos for my parents, because if it weren't for them, I'd have probably left this world a long time ago. So many times I've wanted to give up, but my love for my parents is what has kept me from doing something totally stupid. And one night last May, a wonderful group of women I barely knew, that I'd met on an author's fan page, stayed up with me almost all night to talk me out of just ending the pain. Because the pain isn't just physical with migraines. It eats at your self-worth when you can't do anything but lay in your bed in pain. You can't use the vacuum cleaner because the noise shooting through your brain and the vibration pulsing through your body sends your head spinning. You get a really bad one and spend all day eating diphenhydramine so you can sleep because otherwise the pain is too much, even when you've taken pain relievers. A whole day of your life stolen from you. I am so grateful to my parents, but I really wish they'd understand that if the house has to wait a day to get dusted, it's not going to fall down. Now add in Bipolar 2. I've actually been in a decent place mentally, but it's spring. Spring means fast moving weather fronts, thunderstorms (which I love, but can no longer enjoy) and therefore more time in pain. I want to enjoy the sun instead of it being too bright to stay outside, even with sunglasses on. I want to clean the house top to bottom instead of having to stop every few hours to go into my dark, quiet, white noise filled bedroom. I want to go back to working a 40 hour per week job. When I lost my job, I was actually working 50-60 hours at that job, plus 12 hours on Saturdays at a second job. I felt needed and appreciated by most of my coworkers. My Saturday job was for fun and to get me out of the house and I freaking LOVED that job. Honestly it was probably my favorite job ever. It was easy and I got to meet people from all over the world. Now I have social anxiety and agoraphobia. How does one go from one extreme to the other? I can't explain the daily migraines. Six neurologists and a number of other doctors haven't been able to figure it out. But from all of it over the last five years I've learned I can't do it all. And life changes to the point that you can't even do the things you want anymore. You learn to adjust, even as much as it pisses you off because you don't WANT to adjust. You keep trying to find a reason for why you can't live as you did or at least find a way to work around the pain. I think you are an AMAZING woman. And yeah, you do put too much on your plate. Let Logan and your husband help. Let one of Logan's lessons be "Single's Living" (that was honestly a class I took in high school!) and teach him laundry and other housework. By the time I was 13, I was doing my own laundry, cleaning my room once a week, doing dishes after I ate my breakfast and doing dinner dishes after we ate. Then any other chores I was given through the week. Delegate! :) And stop running into walls. That shit hurts! (I know, I do it all the time! Only it's because I'm a klutz. LOL)