Finding a New Rhythm

So far, my new job is going wonderfully. I feel SO good about doing work that has an impact, that means something to me, that uses my skills, and that gives me opportunties to learn. The work is challenging but not overly stressful. My coworkers are great. The kids are adorable and often hilarious, as so many preschoolers are. So far, so good.

As expected, though, I'm having some problems regulating my routine. With the new commute, I have to leave my house about an hour earlier than I used to, though I get home around the same time. Adjusting to one hour isn't a huge difference, but my morning time is so valuable to me. For one, it used to be when I got to the gym; I'm still planning to do that if I can, but I haven't yet been able to adjust my sleep schedule to get up at 5:15 in the morning (yikes). I'm so much less motivated to work out in the evenings, and I find that exercising later in the day makes it difficult for me to get to bed at a reasonable hour. I also find that morning exercise really helps me feel clear-headed and energized at the start of the day, so I really need to try and find a way to get that time in during the morning hours if I can.

I actually think the real problem is getting to bed on time--if I can get to bed earlier, I can get up earlier, but cutting my evening an hour short is an adjustment I have yet to make. I just can't seem to get out of the rhythm of my usual evening routine and typical bedtime. As such, I either haven't been exercising enough or haven't been sleeping well, both of which seem to lead to other bad habits like not eating well. I have eaten undiclosable amounts of ice cream and cookies in the past two weeks, and I don't even usually keep ice cream and cookies in the house. I'm definitely feeling a bit of sorts right now in the area of self-care.

Between the new job and the house (if all goes well, we are scheduled to close July 22), I know that the next couple of months are going to be busy, to say the least. On the one hand, I feel the need to cut myself some slack and not worry too much about getting in exercise and making sure my meals consist of more than bread and cheese and tomato sauce (aka pizza). On the other hand, the times when we are most busy and stressed are the times that we most need good self-care, yes? Oh, the irony that the times we most need to tend to ourselves are the times when it's hardest to do so.

I'm going to try--really hard--to make bedtime a priority in the coming weeks. If I can just get to bed earlier, then I'm hoping I'll slowly be able to get up earlier. And if I can get up earlier, then I can get to the gym. And if I get to the gym, I'll feel inclined to eat better. And then it will just all magically fall into place, right? :) I sure hope it happens in some variation of this, because I'm seriously floundering a bit here, and I'm hoping I can figure out some way to get back on track. I suppose I'll start now by heading off to bed. . . .

Good Things

So. . . remember that dream house we walked away from a little while ago? Sad as we were to leave it behind, we felt certain that it was the right thing to do given the seller's price constraints. Frustrated that the best opportunity we had didn't work out, we agreed to put the whole house hunt aside for a while and just focus on saving, anticipating that it would be a long while before we were ready to move ahead again.

Amazingly, a week later we got a message from our Realtor. The sellers came back to us and agreed to take our offer (which was low, given that we put it out there as a start to our negotiations) plus $5000. I don't think it is an exaggeration to say that we were stunned by this news and a little unsure what to do, given that we had moved on and lost all emotional attachment to the house. We had also become rather comfortable with the idea of building up our savings nest and continuing to settle in our current place. We asked for a couple of days, feeling completely in limbo and on shaky ground.

I am not someone who believes that there is someone or something out there orchestrating everything. I don't believe that everything happens for a reason (though I do believe there is value in attaching meaning to our experiences, even if we don't understand them at the time). However, I do believe that sometimes there is something (or someone) out there--whether it is our intuition or the Universe or God--gently nudging us in the right direction. When we left this house behind and it miraculously came back to us, it didn't just feel like a nudge--it felt like a unmistakable shove. Having had some of the urgency and pressure taken off of us from the week before, some of the emotional investment dissipated, and such an extraordinary set of circumstances come together to make the house seem within reach, everything pointed to the fact that it was time to make a move.

And so, my friends, it appears that we are buying a house. And not just A house, but THE house. The kind of house we've walked by many times and wished we could have, but never expected to get. The kind that feels so much like "us" and so much like the right place it makes us feel giddy and start dancing in circles. We are under contract, and the inspection is done, with no major surprises. The deal is not sealed 100%, but right now there's no reason to believe that that the house won't be ours. We got an amazing deal, for a house that we love, in a community that we would be heartbroken to leave behind. We are so excited and grateful.

Having wished for so long that so many things--including a new job and a house--would fall into place, I am a little overwhelmed that they both have come to pass so quickly and so beautifully in the last several weeks. My tendency is to want to believe that it's all too good to be true and that the other shoe is going to drop at any moment. And while I know that things won't be perfect, and that not everything will live up to my expectations, I'm going to ignore the voice that waits for the worst. Good things happen all the time, and we are all deserving of them, and there's no rule that says they can't happen all at once. This time, I am going to believe that the good things are coming to me. I feel so grateful for it all.

Opportunity Cost

I should warn you before you begin that this one is a long one. . . .

Last week, Dan and I put in an offer on a house. A house that, for all purposes, could be considered our "dream house": right in the heart of the borough, in walking distance to absolutely everything, hardwood floors, enclosed front porch, deck, three bedrooms + two bonus rooms in the basement, two baths, lots of lighting, a good dose of charm, and 2000 square feet. It was really more than we ever dreamed we could get, and thanks to some needed cosmetics and a divorce, it fell amazingly close to our price range. On the same day as my last day at my old job, we met with our Realtor, took a second look at the house, and put in an offer.

For the next 24 hours, we were on a bit of a high of nerves and excitement and anticipation. It really felt that this might be THE house. The sellers came back with a counteroffer--and let us know what their bottom line was--and though we thought it seemed doable, we decided that we'd better take a hard and fast look at the numbers before we made anything official.

I've usually kept a pretty close eye on our budget, but for the last nine months I've been using a budget spreadsheet very similar to this one to track every bit of our expenses and income so we have a real picture of where our money is going, how much we can really spend, and to keep us focused on saving. These spreadsheets have been a real eye-opener in a lot of ways, and when we sat down to look through them as we were contemplating the offer, they opened our eyes once again. As we started to take a hard look, our feelings of elation and confidence about the house slowly deflated. We realized it was a stretch--too much of a stretch. The higher-than-planned monthly payment combined with all of the work that needed to be done would have just been too much. We realized we might buy the house and then spend our time in it counting every single penny and stressing over every unanticipated expense. It was hard--because the house presented an amazing opportunity to buy our "dream house," one that we suspect might not come again--but we decided to walk away.

I know that, in the end, that was not the house for us. A house that makes us feel knots in the pit of our stomachs about finances before we've even signed a contract is not our house. Still, we feel rather deflated by the whole thing and are now wondering if we can really buy a house at all, and if we should keep moving forward or just put things on hold; whether we are better off just staying put for a while and socking away more money, or if the housing market now presents an opportunity that might not come again, and we'd be foolish to wait. So many unknowns that keep my brain (and my stomach) wrestling and twisting and turning.

Every time we look at the money, I can't help but wonder how other people do it--we are generally pretty conservative when it comes to our finances and have decent (though non-profit) salaries, and even though we live in a relatively expensive area, it's hard not to feel like a bit of a failure sometimes that we can't seem to do something as basic as buying a house. Perhaps our standards are too high (though I feel they are rather modest), or perhaps we just need to buckle down more or get second jobs, or perhaps we just don't know everyone's situation (perhaps they all got big checks from their parents to help with down payments), but it's hard sometimes not to feel that we're coming up short.

One thing I can't help wondering about, though, is at what point you just decide to take a leap of faith. When it comes to many things--and especially to money--I often find it hard to know the line between having faith that things will work out and making a wise, informed decision. We've talked to people who, when they bought their own houses, didn't do any major number crunching or even think things through too carefully, but somehow things worked themselves out and it's turned out great. Of course, there are so many others (mostly the ones you hear about in the headlines) who took that leap, and it ended in disaster. I tend to freak out about making big decisions (especially anything that feels "permanent") and to have a lot of anxiety about money, so I always have to be aware of how those feelings are coming into play. I feel confident that we made the right decision with this house (the numbers really didn't lie in that case), but going forward, I'm not really sure where to draw the line.

And, in general, home buying involves two of my biggest Achilles heels: the unknowns, and the what ifs. We can look at how much house we can afford now, but what if we have kids in the future? How will we pay for both our house payment and the outrageous costs of childcare? What happens if one of us loses a job? What happens if we need major maintenance, or the home inspector misses something big? How much can we anticipate salary increases or career advancements? There is so much that can't be known, and it makes it so hard to make a decision.

In the end, I think we are still going to at least try to keep an eye on things, and keep saving money, and hopefully when something comes along, we'll know if it's right. Despite all my number crunching, I can't tell if I'm being practical or overly cautious (or, even worse, if I'm letting fear paralyze me), if I'm being smart or if I'm being paranoid and cynical, if it really is the case that now is the right time for us or if I'm just letting what I want--rather than what I can really afford--take control of the decision making process. Right now, I have not a clue on all fronts, and all the questions and worries of missed opportunities just won't stop nagging me.

Good Thing: "Adam"

Several weeks ago, the Blockbuster down the street from me closed its doors. They were selling DVDs for $2.50, and when I popped in to see what I could find, I came across "Adam," a movie that I watched a year or so ago and loved but had completely forgotten about. It tells the story of a romance between a neurotypical woman and her neighbor with Asperger's.

When I decided to buy the movie, I wasn't really thinking at all about autism or Asperger's, but just remembering that "Adam" was a movie I enjoyed. I didn't have a clue that my work would take me back into the field of autism spectrum disorders. Knowing now that is where I am headed, I decided that was all the more reason to watch it again. And I have to say that I found it to be moving and quirky and just lovely.

"Adam" is one of those movies I think everyone should see because it helps to tell the story of a disorder that is so often misunderstood in a compelling and honest way. If you don't know much about Asperger's, or if you would like to know more, or if you'd just like to see a smart, charming romance and a Sundance favorite, then I certainly recommend that you see it!

Sunset at The Grand Canyon

Last spring, I had my first visit to a national park with a visit to Yosemite. I know I have waxed on many times about how glorious that trip was for me, but it truly affected me in the most profound way, and I couldn't wait until I could repeat the experience at national park #2: The Grand Canyon.

Unlike Yosemite--which I had heard little to nothing about--one has undoubtedly heard many reports of The Grand Canyon. Last year, a colleague returned from a trip there and explained his experience looking into that vast expanse as a feeling that "We are so small, and God is so great." One person told me about how her husband found it so overwhelming he could barely look at it for more than short periods at a time. Just comprehending the Canyon's depth--a mile down below--seems so impossible that it was easy to imagine that it was just too much.

When we first arrived at The Grand Canyon, parked our car at a vista point, and took in the view below, it was definitely magnificent. Certainly vast. Certainly unlike anything I'd ever seen before. But, if I'm being honest, at first I was a bit underwhelmed. Had my expectations not been so high and the reports of the Canyon's grandeur not been so great, I'm sure I would have been floored, but given what I'd heard (not to mention the countless postcard-perfect photographs I'd seen), I found it to be beautiful, but not quite as overwhelming and incomprehensible as I'd imagined. I wasn't disappointed--just a little surprised not be completely and totally blown away.

I learned, as the day went on, that part of the Canyon's magic and mystique comes from seeing it from different perspectives. As we drove and walked and took the shuttle from vista point to vista point, the grandeur of the place started to sink in and there were endless beautiful views, but something still wasn't quite clicking for me. I did not feel the same instant love--or the same feelings of intimacy--that I experienced at Yosemite. Perhaps it was the vastness of it. Perhaps it was the seeming lack of variety in the landscape (rock after rock after rock). Perhaps it was the lack of abundant trees (I'm a girl who loves her green). It was beautiful, no doubt, but it didn't stir my soul in the same way.

At the start of the day, we (me, Dan, his mom, and his sister) had decided that we were going to stick around the park until sunset. About eight hours later, plagued by vertigo and sunburnt skin and dehydration, tired from endless walking and shuttling about and waiting for each other countless times for bathroom breaks, I wondered if we really had the stamina to give it a go, and if it would really be worth it. For a moment I contemplated suggesting we just go back to the hotel, but then it felt silly not to just stick around for another hour, so I dug deep for a second wind.

We opted to forgo the most popular sunset viewing spot and picked another vista point. Compared to other points at the park, it was pretty sparsely populated--about a dozen or so other people sat nearby. We carefully climbed over the low wall to stake out our spot. It's hard to comprehend from this photo, but just over the edge of where I'm sitting here is, in fact, a long mile down.

After a day of looking at The Grand Canyon from dozens of spots, and after taking dozens of photos, I feel that, in many ways, sitting there out on that point at sunset was the first time I truly saw The Grand Canyon. The harsh light of day had softened, and the sun brought the colors and textures to life in the most incredible way. The crowds were gone, and we were seated with a small group of people who rarely spoke in little more than a whisper. After a while, the cameras were mostly put away. We were there, not looking for a few minutes and then moving on to the next spot, but sitting quietly for well over half an hour, just waiting for the sun to slowly descend. Once I had that moment to really just be with The Grand Canyon--rather than to be a spectator of it--my heart opened up to it in a new way. I had tried to be present with it all day but had not found the right moment until then. Even now, just thinking about the way it felt sitting there with the golden sun all around, in the chilling wind, with the vastness all around me and down below me, with the sun setting fire to the colors, makes my chest ache with the memory of the beauty of the landscape, the feeling of peace, and the sense of oneness with everything.

I could post dozens of other photos from our trip, but you've likely seen them on my Facebook page. If you haven't, the others I took look at lot like the ones you've probably seen in books or in calendars or those from other people's trips. We got some really nice ones, but the one above is my favorite. At the time, I didn't even know that Dan was taking this photo, but for me it captures the moment where I felt that feeling of awe. That feeling of being one with something so big and beautiful and knowing that somehow, in some way, we are all where we should be. That feeling of wanting to shout and dance and sing about the beauty of life and all the wonderment in the world. That was what I had come for. And The Grand Canyon did not disappoint.

Year 32

Truthfully I'm not even sure what's happened to the last three weeks. In my memory everything is just one big blur: birthday celebrations, visits with friends, a job interview and an offer and salary negotiations, walks in the spring sunshine, a Passover Seder and an Easter brunch, looking at houses, a dinner with relatives, phone dates, volunteering at The Philadelphia International Festival of the Arts. . . the list goes on and on.

Thus has begun the first few weeks of my 32nd year. I decided, about a week before my birthday, that this year was going to be the best one yet. Not that I know that to be true, but that I need to believe it to be true--and perhaps believing it is the first step to making it happen. On my 32nd birthday, while walking around the mall with Dan before popping into The Cheesecake Factory for a birthday treat, I got a call. A call with a job offer. Very exciting indeed. After several days going back and forth about salary and start date, of weighing all the pros and cons of an awesome job with a lousy commute, of trying to silence the endless stream of "What ifs?" that are always in my head, of reminding myself that what is familiar is not always best and that I can't plan for every contingency, I took the job. I start May 31. I can't wait to begin this new chapter getting back to work that really means something to me--supporting children with disabilities (in this case, autism) and their families, at an awesome organization, in a move that will help propel my career forward.

I feel as though I've been scrambling up a wall and tumbling back down for months and months, just needing something to happen. Now, finally, I feel like I've made some headway over the top. Things are starting to move in the direction I've been hoping for, making it so much easier to hope for more. Along with the job, there has been other good news. After spending the last few years really wishing for friends nearby, Dan and I both realized this week that we've had so many outings with new friends that we're looking forward to some time to ourselves! Dan got a story accepted for publication in a print journal last week, which is amazing, and his mom, who graduates with her Masters in Library Science on Friday, just landed a job. The weight loss I began last year has turned into maintaining my new weight for the last several months--no easy feat. And who can feel anything but good with this amazing spring weather?

Though there's still lots I'm hoping and waiting for, including finding a house to buy and getting my business launched part-time (both of which are on hold for a bit), I feel like I can finally take a moment to breathe. As much as I've tried to stay focused on the present and be grateful for the endless blessings in my life, I haven't been able to help wanting more and wishing I could get a break. I've spent a lot of time in the last year or so paralyzed by doubt and fear and having moments where I've been convinced that things just couldn't go my way. I feel like, with these new good things, I feel empowered to make more things happen.

On Wednesday, Dan and I leave for Arizona to attend his mother's graduation. Later in the week, we are driving to The Grand Canyon, where we'll stay for two days. I've been told that nothing can prepare you for what you experience at The Grand Canyon when standing on its rim. I can't wait to be there, looking out over something so vast and ancient and unknowable, knowing that I will likely feel just as I felt at Yosemite--that everything is so mysterious and out of my control, and yet, all in its rightful place. As I wait for the next pieces to fall into place over the next year, I feel reassured that even though there is much that is unknown and worrisome, with a little hope and some acts of faith on my part, things will probably unfold as they should. And even if they don't, I can't avoid peering over the edge of that big abyss and risk missing the wonder that might be in store.

I'm hoping that, as I begin the next year, I'll leave behind the doubts and fears that have plagued me and keep moving forward to create a better version of myself and my life. I feel good. And happy. And hopeful. Here's to a great start to my 32nd year!

This I Believe

While taking a class at my church, our minister encouraged everyone in the class to write our own "This I Believe" statements. If you're not familiar, This I Believe encourages people to write and submit essays about their core values and beliefs. In addition to being posted on their website, essays are regularly featured on NPR.

I've actually contemplated doing something like this before, but there was never any real impetus to do it. Nudged into action by my minister and classmates, I wrote my belief statement in a couple of hours on a Monday night. I was a little surprised at what actually came out--but looking at it again a few weeks later, I can see that it fits perfectly. At my minister's request, I shared it with the congregation during a Sunday service a couple of weeks ago. I thought that I might also share it with you.

This I Believe: March 21, 2011

I am the girl who does not kill bugs. The girl who gets annoyed with her husband when he squishes a fruit fly. The girl who makes a secret pact with the spider in the corner that if he promises not to crawl on me during the night, I will pretend I never saw him.

My reason for not killing bugs is not because I particularly like them (I don’t). It is not because I don’t want to be cruel (though I don’t). It is not because I believe in reincarnation and think one day I might come back as a bug myself (though I don’t rule out the possibility). It is because, more than anything, I value the gift of life so much that I don’t want to rob anyone—or anything—of even a few precious moments of breath.

I believe that life is short and full and messy and fragile and indescribably, almost painfully, beautiful. There are times that I look at the sun through the leaves or taste the first strawberries of spring or rub my hands along the table my grandfather made and find it all so wonderful that I can hardly breathe. The richness of the world astounds me, and I believe the greatest tragedy would be to be here and to miss it.

I believe my highest tasks are to savor every moment of this life I’ve been given, and to do all that I can to ensure that others can do the same. It is for these reasons that I sometimes swing at the playground on my lunch breaks, that I encourage my coworkers to take every last one of their vacation days, that I chose a career as a social worker to help others have every opportunity at a full and joyous life. It is for these reasons that I try with all my might to stop and to breathe and to look and to listen and to feel and to feel and to feel. And it is for these reasons that I do not kill bugs, for who is to say that their short life on Earth is of lesser value than mine?

It’s likely that the bugs I ignore or take outside will, at best, live a matter of weeks or months. It’s even more likely that they will get stepped on, or drown in a puddle, or get eaten by a hungry bird. But until that happens, perhaps they will enjoy a tasty leaf, or feel the warmth of the sun, or emerge from the chrysalis into something beautiful and new. And I believe that they deserve those small joys, even if they don’t recognize them as such. Knowing that we are all but tiny specks on a continuum beyond our understanding, I believe that we all have the right—and the responsibility—to savor every moment we are given on this Earth. Every person, every animal, every being. Even the bugs.

Sometimes, You Just Need a Little Sun

Though I sit writing on a rainy, chilly day, we have finally had some days here where it seems that spring has sprung. The daffodils have peeked out of the ground, the trees are in bloom, and the temperature has reached 70+ degrees at least a little here and there. Last weekend, for the first time in a long time, I realized that the day was filled with sounds of birds in the trees. When I head out to the gym at 6:30 in the morning, it's actually light outside and I'm not bundled up in a winter coat and gloves (this definitely makes it much easier to get moving).

I am a true lover of the seasons. I adore the fall and winter months. I've never considered myself to be someone who was affected much by the long, gray days of winter. But it seems that the arrival of spring is really making a big difference in my mood. . . and my optimism.

This week, I began my usual routine of taking walks on my lunch breaks whenever I can. I'm fortunate that my office is in a pretty residential area, so it's easy for me to get away from traffic and people and take long walks on quiet streets with nothing but my thoughts and my iPod. In addition to that, Dan and I have been taking short walks after work whenever we can. Last Thursday, we were walking down the tree-lined streets of our happy little town and I just closed my eyes, feeling the sun on my face and breathing in the spring air.

When I find myself in the messes and crises and worries that one sometimes finds oneself in, I tend to think that I need a big change: a new job, a new house, a vacation. And it's true that I might those things. But sometimes--in the meantime--the littlest things can really do the trick. Sometimes you don't need a grand gesture or a big change or a neatly wrapped solution. Sometimes, it seems, all you need is a little sun.

What I Need Today

Unsurprisingly, I haven't found many answers in response to my mini-crisis of the past week (wouldn't it be nice if things wrapped themselves up that neatly?). Right now, I think the hardest part is figuring out what I need, and what I need to do next. Thankfully, I'm not completely without hope or in the pits of despair. (As a side note, should I report that I have failed to change out of pajamas for two days, that I have eaten nothing but popcorn, Bagel Bites, and ice cream for more than 24 hours, and that I am watching endless episodes of "Party of Five" on DVD, then you will know I have reached that point.)

I have a lot to think (and feel) through and a lot to figure out. When I think about it all--and I am a classic overthinker--I start to feel like I can't breathe. So, I am here to remind myself that I don't have to figure it all out today. As much as my brain loves to zoom into the future, I don't need to know right now exactly what I need to get myself to the finish line. And, even then, there is no finish line. We are all works in progress, which really is a good thing, even though it sometimes doesn't feel that way.

Instead of trying to figure out what I need to jump start the next big chapter of my life, I'm just going to start with what I need today. What my little soul needs to get some care and love and energy and faith. What it needs to take one step forward. So, little mind and body, here is what you should work on acquiring ASAP to help get your heart and soul in order:

• A cup of mint tea. When in doubt, always start with a cup of tea.

• Some time among the trees. It's possible that so much time indoors over the winter months has made you a bit crazy. Get thee to the park. Lay in the grass. Take a hike. Remember how much the trees and the sounds of the birds and the smell of the clean air make you feel new again.

• Deep breaths. You must do this. Even when you think you can't make your heart and mind stop racing long enough to make it happen.

• Five minutes a day doing absolutely nothing but watching the cats. That's right. Just sit and stare at them. See how happy they are, stretching in the sun? How peaceful they look napping on the sofa? They are not thinking about what they did yesterday or worrying about what they'll do tomorrow. They just sleep, and play, and look forward to their next tasty treat. They just. . . are. Very wise. A very good example.

• Dancing time. As a start, might I suggest "Walking on Sunshine" and "Single Ladies (Put a Ring on It)" to get you moving.

• Along that line, time to listen to cheesy songs that strangely make you feel better even though you are embarrassed to admit it. Songs like Jordin Sparks' "One Step at a Time" and Michael Jackson's "Man in the Mirror" and Kirk Franklin's "Gonna Be a Lovely Day." (Yep, that's right, I just publicly admitted that I have all of these songs on my iPod.)
  

• Dan hugs. Also, copious amounts of snuggle time.

• Lots of stretching right before bed. You are a classic tension carrier. Don't take all that stress with you into your dreams.
  

• Some inspiration. Project for the week: make an inspiration binder. Find all those wonderful quotes that make you feel strong and all those articles and blog posts that give you energy and all the nice letters and e-mails that tell you how fabulous you are. Put them in one place. In a place where they are always nearby. In a place where you can see them and read them over and over anytime you need them.

And so, I start the little steps toward the big steps. The little things to help me tackle the big things ahead. For now, I'm off to do some stretching make a cup of mint tea.

Stuck

The best way to describe my mental state of late can best be described in one work: "stuck." I feel stuck in my house. Stuck at my job. Stuck in bad habits. Stuck, stuck, stuck, stuck.

I realize, of course, that it is within my power to get unstuck. I'm just having some trouble figuring out how to do that, or what "unstuck" would even look like for me.

On the house front, we haven't found much in the way of real possibilities. Of course, it's still early in the game, but it's definitely been a bit frustrating to have all the momentum of finding a Realtor and getting together our financing and making the decision to make the leap and then just . . . waiting. We'll find the right house. I know we will. But until then, it's hard to stop endlessly daydreaming about home decorating and renovations, which is fun to think about but also a little frustrating when you can't actually do it.

On the job/career front, things are a bit more complicated. I have totally reached a state of inertia with my business planning. This is not good, but it is the truth, and I've been trying to figure out what is going on. I know that a big part of it is probably fear of failure--as I get closer to the actual point of launch, the point at which I actually need to take a real risk comes closer and closer, and I am sometimes lousy at risk-taking. I knew the fear of failure hurdle would probably be the biggest one for me to jump.

It's a little more than that, though. To be honest, while a lot of my initial excitement about the prospect of launching has slowly faded away (or been overshadowed by other feelings), so has the encouragement of a lot of family and friends, which I guess I was relying on more than I realized. People have stopped asking me much about my business plans, or at least asking me about it with any enthusiasm. I don't blame them, since I haven't talked much about it, but it has definitely fed my self-doubt. When I went home to Georgia, I sent an e-mail to my family and friends asking if they (or anyone they knew) had any organizing projects I could help them with for free to help build my portfolio. I got only one response, and zero takers. Perhaps people didn't need any help, or perhaps no one reads e-mail anymore, but it's hard to believe in what I'm doing if my family and friends aren't even interested in my services when I'm offering them up for free. Sigh. I know their lack of response wasn't necessarily a reflection on how they feel about my business, and I know that as an entrepreneur I can't rely on outside reinforcement all the time, but I was already feeling a little low about things, and that just seemed to push me deeper into the hole of self-doubt that I'm having trouble crawling out of.

So, yes. That is not good. I must get out of my self-doubt funk. This is, naturally, easier said than done.

On top of all that, my time at home made me finally acknowledge something I've known for a long time: I really need to find a new job. When I was answering the usual "How's your job going?" question while talking to family and friends, I could barely even answer it because I hate talking about my job that much. Two people told me, "You sound like you need to get out of there," and they are right. I've known that I needed to get out for a long time (pretty much since I started), but I've been trying to figure out this balance between my long-term and short-term needs. Long-term, I know that doing something like my business would make me happiest, but it's not something that will happen overnight. While I want to really make a career shift and not just a job change, I'm working at a job that in a lot of ways sucks the life out of me and chips away at my feelings of self-efficacy, which is counterproductive for a business launch. I'm definitely finding that trying to get my business going while working a job that gnaws away at pieces of me is not really working out so well.

I've been thinking for the last few weeks about looking for another job. I definitely need a change, and even though it's not the long-term change I'm hoping for, perhaps it will still be for the best. Unfortunately, though, it's probably going to mean a delay of my long-term plans: a job search consumes so much time and energy, and I will probably need some time to adjust to the changes of a new job before I'm ready to refocus my energy on the business again. There is, also, the possible implications on what a new job would mean for our home financing, as I'm not sure a loan officer would look favorably on a switch, so I could put our home buying in jeopardy. And to be honest, none of the jobs I've seen out there really excite me. The upside of knowing what I want to do long-term is that I know what I'd like to do. The downside is that anything that's not that doesn't feel worth doing. So I'm faced with wondering whether I find anything I can have at least some enthusiasm for, put in the energy to go for it, and then adjust to it all while not losing sight of my long-term goals, which will inevitably be put on hold.

And, so, this is where I'm at. And to be honest, it kind of sucks. I'm usually pretty good at putting a positive spin on things and maintaining my optimism, but tonight I just feel frustrated. And sad. And unsure. And stuck. And lonely in the midst of it all.