Part Three: Finding New Wells

Disclosure: Not a mommy blog post, despite the beginning. More like multiple identity crises. Hold on. I'll get there eventually. Less subtle than the other two blogs. Click here for Part One. Or click here for Part Two.

After June, I'll likely aim for posting once, or maybe twice a month. These take a surprising amount of time and energy to write. This is longer than the other two posts. So, I owe you two cookies if you get through it. Thanks again for reading. :)

Almost every swim practice, like clockwork, I'll see this little blond boy with big blue eyes spot me as he walks around the pool. He's a year younger than my son and he is always asking if Quin can play. Every time this little boy sees me, the same thing happens. Big sweet, smile and a little wave as he says, "hi, Quincy's mom!"

I'm always amused by it. I remember doing the same thing to adults when I was a kid.

And that transition to full blown adulthood, like actually feeling like an adult and not as if I'm cosplaying like one, was not a fun transition. I was a train wreck of bad decisions in my early twenties. I'm so glad I got those out of the way before I got married. Funny how that whole pre-frontal cortex thing developing makes such a difference.

I think it varies for everyone when the right time to get married or have kids happen. Overall, I don't think there is anything wrong with having those things happen in your early twenties or late thirties or anywhere in between or after. I know people where it's worked out either way, and I think there are pros and cons to both. It's a topic I could talk a lot about, but it's not really the point of this post.

At twenty-nine, I had my daughter. I'd known my husband for three years by that point, and felt as ready as I could have to start that chapter of our lives. I'd gotten a degree, worked, found hobbies I enjoyed, got a dog, and bought our first house. And although there were a lot of positives, there were also a few negatives. One of them was having my daughter in my late twenties and my son three years later, meant our family size would be smaller. There were more reasons besides that for sticking to two kids, but my age was a factor.

I'll hear other women sometimes say they feel like they've always been a mom or they don't feel like they know who they are because they started a family so young. Motherhood is all they've known. It's the pros and cons thing again. There's always a trade-off. Having kids closer to thirty meant I've never felt that way. I knew who I was, and being an older mom (culturally) meant that for me, I had developed skills that made me a better parent than had I started having kids when I was younger. That's not to say others hadn't reached that point at a younger age when they had kids. But for me, at the end of the day, I felt ready with the place I was in my life.

At school and at the gym, I'm known as the Hannah and Quincy's mom, with most not knowing my first name. With Jack, when it comes to work, or when I went to church, I'm known as his wife and I'm often greeted as such. My name is usually linked to other people as if I'm an extension of them, and rarely by itself, but it doesn't bother me. It's that way for almost everyone in one way or another.

At the end of the day, all of this is to say I've never felt my identity has been defined by any of the roles I play in people's lives, like wife, mother, daughter, or sister, but that doesn't mean I'm not keenly aware how that is how others define me. Really, it's not their or anyone's fault either. That's how most relationships are, but maybe the blog is a way to break down that barrier for anyone who might read it.

Identity is a funny thing too. It's such an abstract concept. Jack and I discussed this recently. Jack's someone who has always known who he is, or at least figured it out early on in life, while I felt adrift and unsure for a long time before eventually discovering who I am. I think it's also something where the discovery process never ends either. I feel I know myself pretty well, but I can always learn more. I know who I am, in that nebulous hard to describe way, whenever people ask 'what makes you, you?' Sometimes I think people get wrapped up in defining what they do for who they are, and eventually, they have to figure that out. And while I don't think what people do is their identity, I don't think that means it's not a part of them. I deeply feel that way too. Working toward something, mattering in what I do, is still deeply important to me.

Winning the Lottery

"So, what are you writing now?"

I cringe when I get that question. Part of my identity for a very long time was describing myself as a writer. I've been writing for close to ten years, even with little kids, so people know it's something I'm passionate about. But the question stings slightly, because I now have to explain that I'm not working on any short stories or novels, at least currently. The reasons behind that tends to not make for great small talk, because there's not just one answer.

This last year was hard in the area of what I wanted to do and work towards. I've been writing fiction when I first got married. I've spent years working on that craft. But over time it's been hard watching the book publishing industry shrink. It used to be the 'Big Six' publishing houses who produced the novels I'd read and see on shelves or online. But the big six shrunk to the big five a few years ago. I'm pretty sure there were seven when I started writing, but I could be wrong. Either way, it's a dying industry where it is often stated that getting a contract as an author with a major publishing house was akin to winning the lottery. Published authors often talk about how so much of it is luck, yes skill, but also luck because they know plenty of others who are just as good who are not published. And each passing year it gets harder. That's why so many people have turned to self-publishing. Kuddos to those who go that route, but to self-publish, authors are doing all of the work on their own. I don't want to do that. I want the contract. And as the publishing houses keep shrinking and merging together, that lottery keeps getting more unattainable for those wanting the traditional writing career.

It's depressing as hell to watch. And the rise of artificial intelligence in the past year made it worse.

It got so bad I had a decent breakdown over it. (Yeah, there's been a bit of a pattern in the last few blogs with that happening. It all snowballed into kind of a rough year.) I remember reading articles focusing on the doom and gloom of it all and what it meant for writers. How others were also freaking out or sinking into depression because of it. The short story magazines that somehow still exist posted about how bombarded they were with clearly A.I. written stories and how it was clogging up the editorial process to weed them out. A.I. seemed to loom over the book industry and was getting ready to deliver the killing blow.

I sat there at three in the morning and felt as if the work and effort I'd spent years toiling away at now lay smashed to pieces right in front of me. Shattered, jagged shards of myself, really, and they cut rather deep. I wanted to get published, but the odds of that happening looked near impossible now. Even working after both kids went to school as a technical writer seemed dim in comparison to before. I'd learned A.I. threatened a lot and everyone in publishing was scared.

I talked to Jack about it the next morning. Unlike me, he loves A.I. and is excited by its possibilities. He reassured me that A.l. wasn't as powerful as everyone feared, at least not yet, and to view it more as a tool. He further explained that a lot of people didn't understand how limited it actually was in its capabilities. Our discussion calmed me down somewhat. He's shown me how he uses it, and I do see the benefit. But I still don't implement it with my writing, however I think it's fun to ask it dumb questions when I'm bored or to see how far I can push it with asking for medical advice.

But A.I. finally forced me toward a decision I'd been considering for a long time. I looked at the industry, at A.I., and at my own life. Quin would start kindergarten in the fall and the idea of my littlest going off and me being alone at home with the cat and dogs left me staring at something akin to that Groundhog's Day movie but the housewife rendition. I already didn't get to see people and writing is a pretty solitary endeavor, even with the communities of writers I know exist. Me being alone even more than I already was did not sound like a good idea. I also lacked the time to write like I'd wanted to the last few years, leading to a lot of frustrations.

I love writing fiction. I didn't want to quit, but I also couldn't see myself continuing. I had to consider the over all benefit to what pursing writing and hopefully publishing fiction would cost me. And what of the possibility of not winning that lottery? Would I still want to write if I knew I'd never be published? I would, but maybe I wouldn't sink the hours into chasing that dream like I had been. There are others things I want to do too besides writing fiction, and my time is limited. So, I looked at the industry, the rise of A.I., my own goals outside of writing, the hours I spent in my writing group, my own writing projects, and the overall whole picture. Ultimately, I made the decision not to abandon writing novels and short stories, but pausing it, at least until I have the time and energy to dedicate to it properly.

I really hated making that choice. But writing fiction just wasn't fulfilling me in the way that it had previously, and all though that hurt to admit, it was also ok. I know I'll find something else. I just didn't know what that would be.

The Critters

We're very fortunate Jack makes enough of an income that I don't have to work, but I also felt weird not doing something. I'd made the decision to pause my writing when I asked Jack if he wanted me to get a job when Quincy went to school. He said, "Jess, it's your life. I'm not going to tell you how to live it. Do whatever you want to do."

I wasn't expecting that answer, but it meant a lot to me. Over the years I'd played with different ideas. I thought about dog training, but decided that was more working with people than actually dogs. Technical writing didn't seem likely given everything, and even then I didn't really want to work in the corporate world. I knew from doing AmeriCorps years ago that volunteering was a great way for a lot of people to learn about some industries before joining them. I didn't feel pressure to find something quickly, which I'm very grateful for. It's given me space and time to think.

One afternoon though I saw a news report reposted on social media about some organization needing help feeding baby bunnies. They were desperate for volunteers. I immediately clicked to find out more. I love animals. I always have. Jack jokes that it's good I got the rabies vaccine because it was only a matter of time before I tried to bring something home that would have required me to to seek treatment anyway. He's probably right.

I ended up finding out that the organization was the Houston Humane Society Wildlife Center. It seemed perfect. Another idea I'd been tossing around had actually been returning to school and potentially getting a zoology degree. Working with animals is something I want to do, I just don't know exactly what direction to go after that. But they had volunteer opportunities and that seemed like a good place to start if I did go that route. Which is exactly what I've been doing the last couple months. It's been slow getting involved, but I'm also confident that will increase once the kids start school again.

I would like to do something that develops skills I could make an income from. I don't care if that's not a lot of money, but I would like something. Besides the fact that life likes to throw curveballs, having something productive and emotionally fulfilling is important to me.

I think looking at who I am and what I'm passionate about is what I'm trying to let lead me in the right directions. Listening to that core part of me has been helpful. Part of that core is my love of animals and especially wildlife. I don't know if I'll go back to school, but putting myself in positions where I can find out what the right fit is and going from there sounds like a good plan. Being involved with the community and doing something that gives me a sense of purpose has been invaluable and has helped me see the future with hope rather than a depressing bleakness of 'now what?' I'm glad I've found something. It's come at a time I've needed it.

New Shovel & New Wells

There are two songs I have related to pretty strongly this year. One is specifically the chorus from "It's Time to Go," by Taylor Swift. The one line that kept hitting me when I thought about writing was the line "Sometimes, givin' up is the strong thing." It's essentially a song about knowing when something is over or when it's time to move on. Quitting something isn't a moral failure. Yes, there's strength is sticking with something and seeing it through, but there is also the sunk cost fallacy and all the dangers it holds. Knowing the difference comes with experience, and months later, I feel like my past mistakes have led me to knowing when to make the right one when it came to my writing.

Pausing dreams and altering goals hasn't been easy. In some ways it helps knowing life rarely goes the way I, and from what I've witnessed with others, want it to go. In fact, it's more of a shock when it does go how I expect it to. I fully believe we are much less in charge of our own lives than we like to believe. I'm still accountable for the decisions I make, but I don't get to always determine the outcome. But having things in my life that keep me grounded and fulfilled has helped me get back on my feet when things are hard.

Kacey Musgraves has a song called "Deeper Well," and if there was a song to sum up the first half of 2024, it's that one. I relate to a lot of it. It's all about letting go of people, habits, and beliefs that once were good or beneficial for you, but learning to let them go. It doesn't mean they didn't have their value, but it's about recognizing them for how they impact your life now and not how they did in the past. Growing as people, the song proposes, means learning what is best for us also evolves and finding new 'wells' to pull from for strength and comfort is natural.

I still write. That's still a part of me and what I love to do. It's ok if things morph and change. I don't write fiction right now, but this blog is still me practicing much of what I learned. It's also allowing me to grow and stretch myself as a writer in ways I couldn't with fiction, and that excites me. My skills won't go to waste, they're just being repurposed until I can return to what I'd originally been chasing. That dream hasn't been thrown away--more placed in storage until I have more room for it later. But the blog is one of those new wells.

So has been volunteering, refocusing on training my pup, or embracing my own tastes in what I like to read. I know a lot about myself, but I think I might be surprised by what else there is to me that I don't know yet. What maybe I'll be capable of that I can't do right now, or saying yes to more people and experiences because I might just be surprised by both.

That's the third and last thing I learned this past year. What I do during my life is not what defines me, but it does have an impact on how I feel like I'm living up to who I think I am. That's allowed to change over time. More importantly with that lesson is letting go of what no longer serves me and embracing the fact that there is something out there that will--even if I don't always find it immediately. I have faith that I eventually will find those 'deeper wells', and that's probably been one of the best takeaways I've found of the three lessons I've learned in the past year or so.