Following your dreams is hard work

I always used to wonder why people settled for less than what they really wanted, why people worked jobs they hated for years and years, instead of pursuing what truly made them happy.
I've been in the process of writing and getting ready to publish my first book for only a few months now and I already have the answer. Following your dreams is hard work. Venturing out of your comfort zone to do something you really love takes a lot of effort and can be so overwhelming.
I was telling my family about my book over the weekend and one of my sisters was asking all sorts of questions. Do you need a publisher? If you publish it yourself how do people know it's there? How do you market your book so people will buy it? Are you going to make money? Good questions sister, good questions.
I am planning on self publishing on Amazon, Barnes & Noble, iTunes, etc. That part used to seem hard and scary but no, I've decided the publishing part is easy. The marketing part, not so much.
Not only am I over here writing away trying everyday to meet my goal of adding 1,000 words, so I can finish the book this month, but I also spend every spare moment reading articles about social media and marketing and how to turn traffic into sales and how to build my following. I need a website and a landing page to gather emails and a social media strategy and money to fund it all.
When I'm not stressing about marketing, I'm worrying if anyone will even like my book and when I'm not doing those things I'm working full-time, running a household, being a mom and a wife, trying to find time to workout and see friends, and feeling like I'm failing at everything. It is a little overwhelming to say the least.
I'm sure my family and friends think I'm crazy and are probably more than a little tired of listening to me go on and on about my book but I'm not giving up! And even if it means I miss out on a little sleep it is worth it and I've never been happier. Because as scary and hard as following your dreams is, the alternative isn't any better. Even if I never make one penny from writing books, it makes me happy and has always been my dream and that makes all of the stress and late nights and early mornings and feelings of inadequacy worth it.
Find what makes you happy and go for it! Don't waste another minute being unhappy with your life.

Scary Can be a Good Thing

The word scary doesn't usually conjure up images of sunshine and roses but sometimes we have to do something scary before we can get to the good part. Sometimes following your dreams is the scariest thing in the world.

I've been working on a book lately, an erotic romance, that I am planning on publishing next year. To admit that is one of the hardest things I've done in a long time. I starting writing a book years ago and abandoned it half way through, in part because it was also an erotic romance and I was afraid what my conservative family and friends would think. 

Would they disown me? (A little extreme I realize but a true thought nonetheless). Would they still be proud of me if I published something they didn't agree with? Would I get attacked for contributing to the downfall of society? Would I have to explain myself at every family function for the rest of my life? I want those people who love me to be proud of me, not ashamed because I wrote something reminiscent of 50 Shades of Grey. 

I wrote a short story for a collection of erotic short stories, it's been published and available for a few days now, but no one (except a few close friends) know about it because I'm still nervous about what people are going to think. 

But this is what I want!! I've dreamed about being an author since I was a kid, I've wanted to publish a book for years. I want people to read my books and not be able to put them down, to read them again just because the love it that much. This is my dream and I have to go after it. There are stories in my head just waiting to be told, itching to get out; a lot of times those stories are more than a little sexual, but I'm going to tell them anyway. 

Please don't disown me or hate me for following my dream. I promise there are some non-erotic stories in my head too and one day I'll write them too, but for now I'm going to finish the book I've been working on since May (and then go back and finish the one I started six years ago). I won't hold it against you for not reading it, if you won't hold it against me for writing it. 

I'm still scared but that just means I'm stepping out of my comfort zone and doing something hard. Sometimes hard things are the ones that turn out the best. 

Feeling Nostalgic

Sometimes I hear a song that takes me back to my childhood and makes me feel all nostalgic. This morning that song was "Dig Your Roots" by Florida Georgia Line. I heard them play it a month ago at the concert in Cheyenne and loved it then and it was finally available to buy in iTunes this morning. I might have listened it to it on repeat the entire way to work. It just reminded me of all the good times I had growing up and the important lessons I learned, and am still learning, from my grandparents and parents.
Growing up in a small town is something you can't really explain unless you've done it. As much as I love the convenience of living in place where the store doesn't close at 7 p.m. I wouldn't trade my youth and growing up in Altamont for anything in the world.
There is something special about being able to go home 10 years later and talk to people in the store like you never left. Something awesome about knowing that no matter what you do with your life there is a whole town of people who know you and love you and are proud of everything you've done. People who care about your kids and your husband and want to get to know them just like they know you. It's something I've probably taken for granted more than a time or two, but also something I know is unique and special, and something I'll treasure forever.
I didn't just grow up in a small town though, I grew up on a farm in that small town. Nothing has taught me more about life, love, family and hard work than working next to my sisters on the farm. We spent our summers picking rocks, moving cows and turning hay bales in the fields (with plenty of time to play in the river left over) and winters feeding cows and shoveling the sheep barn. I might have hated every minute spent shoveling poop out of the sheep barn and cursed the days I had to get up before dawn in below freezing temperatures in middle of winter and go feed the cows, but I can honestly say I wouldn't trade those experiences either. They made me who I am today and hopefully made me a better person too.
If there is anything Grandpa Bob and Grandma Connie taught me it is that nothing is handed to you, you've got to work hard for everything you want and sometimes even then life has other plans but you just keep on working hard. All the years of working on the farm taught me that if something is worth doing it is worth doing right and nothing is more important than family.

Writing makes me happy

Writing is something that has always been second nature to me, seriously, my Grandma Kay told me that when I was a little girl and would come stay with her she would always find scraps of paper around her house with half-written stories on them when I left. In seventh grade, my first "short story" was 10 pages long. It's no wonder that when I got to college I eventually decided to major in Communications and become a journalist, a newspaper reporter to be specific, a job where I could write every single day.

Since I left the newspaper world my writing has come and gone in spurts but I've recently started writing again and I have to say I've missed it. There is something soothing to me about clicking away on the keyboard, putting words on paper and creating a story.
While I'm sure this definitely classifies me as a nerd I have to admit writing gives me an adrenaline rush too. Nothing will ever compare with the rush of writing a story on a tight deadline and pressing send with just seconds to spare, but I still get a rush when I start a new project or finish something I've been working on for a while or even when I write a really good scene.
I've spent years writing down the short stories or ideas that float around in my head but now I'm excited to be working on what I hope will become my first published book. I've wanted to write a book for a long time, but to be honest I was afraid. Afraid of what other people would think, afraid people wouldn't like it, afraid that I might fail. But now that technology has made self-publishing a relatively easy task and I've finally gotten brave enough to let a few friends read some of my stories I'm going to do it.
I'm in the early stages of writing but I've got the idea and few pages written and I'm excited to write more. Stay tuned and don't let me chicken out this time!

We Have to Stop

Today I had to drive to Provo for work and while on the freeway saw a man driving a shuttle service van trying to read a stack of papers on his steering wheel while driving (yes, I did call the company to complain) and a woman curling her eyelashes, again while driving.

This is not my first and probably won't be my last post about distracted driving but we have to stop. 

It's not okay to curl your eyelashes or put on mascara (or any makeup for that matter) or brush your teeth or eat cereal or read a newspaper or write in your planner or shave while driving (yes these are all things I have personally seen happening on the freeways before). It's not okay to text and drive or Facebook and drive or even play with your fancy dashboard navigation system. I'm not perfect, I've sent texts while driving, but since I had Mason, something clicked, and I have made an active and conscious effort to not do anything that will distract me from driving and getting to my destination safely, not to mention making sure my precious passenger gets there safely too. I'm still not perfect but I'm trying really hard! 

I saw a UDOT sign a few days ago that said 41 people have died on Utah roads in 2016, 41! That is 41 families who's loved ones will never be coming home, 41 people who needlessly lost their lives. Nothing is important enough to jeopardize your own life or those of everyone else on the road. I guarantee that arriving alive and well is more important than arriving with your eyelashes curled. 

Put down the phone, the make-up, the newspaper, your breakfast and anything else that may be keeping you from paying attention to what is happening on the road in front of you and just drive, your life depends on it. 

I just have to vent...

I know why the U.S. spends more on health care than any other industrialized nation. It is because, at times, our system is incredibly wasteful. I have been having some knee issues for a while now, so I finally went to the doctor a few weeks ago, he said he wasn't 100% sure what was causing the pain but that I could get an MRI or try physical therapy. I opted to try physical therapy because my insurance deductible had just reset and that was the cheaper option but my doctor said to call him if I changed my mind and wanted to do an MRI. After two sessions of physical therapy things were getting worse not better, so on Friday, I call the doctor and said I'd like to get an MRI scheduled. His medical assistant put on hold and came back and said the doctor had said to schedule an appointment to come into the office and he'd do an ultrasound to make sure it's not a cyst first. I said okay, because an office visit is still cheaper than an MRI. I get to the doctor's office today and he comes in asks me a few questions and this is how the conversation goes.
The doctor says, "I think it's time for an MRI."
"I called on Friday and wanted to schedule an MRI and your assistant told me you said to come in and you'd do an ultrasound to see if it is a cyst first."
"I don't remember saying that, I can do an ultrasound but a cyst is usually caused by something else that I won't be able to see on an ultrasound, so we need to get an MRI."
I almost freaked out on the doctor. So you're telling me I left work and came in here for no reason! Instead of just scheduling an MRI when I called on Friday, I had to go in, pay $130 out of my own pocket and take up an appointment space that could have been used by someone else, just to be told I needed something I was already asking for. I am seriously so mad!
I am sure I am not the only person this has happened to and I am sure I am not the last person it will happen to either. We need to figure out a way to eliminate medical waste like this, so the cost of health care doesn't continue to increase.

I have a confession to make...

I have a confession to make. I never tried to breastfeed my baby, not even once. His dad fed him his very first bottle in the delivery room while I still having repairs made. I didn’t struggle for weeks with latching on and a poor milk supply and then switch to formula to save my baby and my sanity. I don’t have a medical condition that makes it impossible for me to breastfeed, I don’t have a terrible workplace that discriminates against breastfeeding moms, I don’t have a “valid” reason for not doing it; I just didn’t want to.  

I’ve known for years that I wasn’t going to breastfeed. For a few short months in college I worked at Motherhood Maternity. I heard horror stories about breastfeeding, sore, bleeding, cracked nipples, babies that bite, days spent doing nothing but breastfeeding, leaking in public, getting terrible infections or clogged ducts that were excruciatingly painful. I sold pumps that reminded me of the machine’s I’ve seen milking dairy cows. I tried and sometimes failed to find women a nursing bra that fit and wasn’t the most uncomfortable thing they had ever worn. As an impressionable 20-year-old all I could think was, “I’m never doing that.”  

I have yet to see anything that gets women so riled up as the debate about breastfeeding. I’ve read countless blogs and articles about women who also made the choice not to breastfeed and based on the comment sections you would think they just told the world they feed their baby gasoline. Selfish, uninformed, naive, stupid, lazy, terrible mother... all anonymous insults hurled at formula-feeding moms through cyberspace.

Whenever the topic of babies and breastfeeding came up, I kept my resolve and told people I had no intention of breastfeeding. I would justify it by saying things like, “I can’t pump when I go back to work, the news isn’t going to wait for me while I pump,” or “I’m not sure I’ll be able to with the medicine I take every day.” Which is true, I do take medication every day but based on a simple google-search it probably wouldn’t keep me from breastfeeding and I don’t work in news anymore, so that “excuse” is out.

I was afraid to just admit that I didn’t want to breastfeed. I didn’t want to be called a selfish, horrible, bad mom. I didn’t want to have to defend my decision. I have always felt that it isn’t good enough to want my husband to be able to feed the baby in the middle of the night too or be able to go back to work without worrying if I’ll produce enough milk to feed the baby. It isn’t good enough to want to be able to take an uninterrupted nap in those first few sleep deprived weeks while someone else worries about feeding the baby or be able to go out with girlfriends and have a few drinks. It isn’t good enough to just not want too. I was afraid of being attacked and hounded by women who didn’t even know me.

When did women start being so hostile toward each other? When did what I choose to feed my baby boy, who is perfectly happy and healthy, become the topic of public conversation and debate? When did it become acceptable to berate and degrade a person you know nothing about based solely on how they feed their baby?

Let’s get something straight, motherhood is hard. You worry before your baby is even born how you are going to keep them safe and if you’ll be a good mom. You worry about SIDS and vaccinations and finding the right daycare. You worry if you are bathing them enough, if they are sleeping too much or if their poop is the right color. You wonder if your body is ever going to return to normal, if your sex life will ever be the same again and sometimes you cry for no reason at all. The last thing new moms or any moms for that matter should have to worry about is being judged and put down.                            

As women, and especially as mothers, we should be supporting each other, offering words of encouragement instead of hurtful, judgmental comments. We should make new moms feel loved and supported and like they are doing the best they can for themselves and their babies. Women should feel empowered and confident in the choices they make for themselves and their families; so let’s support each other, regardless of whether you agree with my choices or not. I’m happy, my baby is happy and we are both thriving in our new life together, what else matters?