Grace

Grace

Grace. If the last two weeks have taught me anything, it’s grace. A five-letter word that stared me straight in the face and told me to stop and breathe.

Here it is January 31st. The end of the first month of 2022. I had a lot of plans this month—plans for writing, editing, me time, and of course, family time, but then my daughter’s preschool closed less than two-weeks into the new year due to COVID Omicron cases. She caught it a few days later, then my son, and then my husband and I.

Since California no longer offers paid COVID leave, my manager told me I could use a couple days of vacation time, but that’s not a vacation. I also felt guilty piling my current workload on my team, especially with one team member on vacation and a full workload in queue. And I’m a team player. I decided to work and rest on my breaks.

The same week my daughter’s preschool closed and COVID entered our home, I received edits back from my editor on my debut. The following Monday, I received a Revise and Resubmit for a children’s book with another publisher, and then a week after, a Revise and Resubmit agent request for my first Stars transatlantic-romance book. And here I was sick, and working and balancing two kids at home with my husband.

The Universe has a funny sense of humor. As much as I wanted to smile (and I do, I’m a smiler, a big one), this was hard for me to swallow. Finally! More progress. And yet, I was stuck trying to work, take care of my family, sanitize the house, and remember to take my own vitamins. Kids are running around, smashing into walls with brilliant orange and green bouncy balls one minute and the next, they’re passed out on the couch watching Encanto. A half an hour later, they’re back up, energetic (because they’re kids and not even COVID can keep them down), and wanting to paint. I set up their acrylic paint stations on the kitchen table across from me and my temporary work-station then get back to answering an email. When I look up a moment later, my 3-yo daughter’s hands are smeared with lavender and brown paint. Smash! She stamps handprints on the table. My 6-yo son laughs and it’s then I realize, his face is covered with paint dots and a mustache. What’s happening? I literally just answered one email.

After the long days, I dragged myself to my desk. I thought I could work on my own writing and tasks—the editing needed for my debut, the revise and resubmit requests, but COVID had other ideas. The brain fog and extreme fatigue paired with exhaustion from working and taking care of my family all day, zapped my energy. I couldn’t write. I couldn’t even look at my computer. My eyes stung and the words blurred in front of me. I was a zombie, rather than the energetic cheerleader my friends and family who know me best expect.

For a few restless nights, I stressed myself out staring at a blurry computer screen, willing my brain to work, not sleeping, and after three nights of trying to keep my own personal dreams on task, I awoke dizzy and lethargic, and yet, I still had to work and take care of my family. I couldn’t do it all.

It was then that I realized I needed to step back and give myself grace. I can’t be perfect. No one is. And I needed to give myself permission to just be. To heal. To rest. To take care of not only my family, but myself. 

I’ve been told that the times when you need grace are the times when you’re less likely to give grace to yourself. This couldn’t be more true. I’ve always had two jobs—pushed myself further and harder to accomplish goals and sometimes, too far. Yet, this was not a time to push. It was a time for rest and recovery. 

I gave myself permission to take a break from my own personal writing. And even though timing is everything, I needed to wait.

By Thursday last week, I felt myself getting stronger—the sharp split in my head softening, the fog parting and the sun breaking through, my bounce returning, and energy filling my veins once again. I even chased my squealing kids across the spongy lawn that morning during a tickle fight (and I lost). 

Later, we took our at-home tests and received negative results. Yes! Another step forward.

That night, I decided to attend a workshop with the Manuscript Academy to which I’m a member. I sat on the couch listening with one ear bud in my right ear, while my children snuggled on either side of me watching their twenty minutes of television before bed. An attendee asked the agent panel some tips for querying. 

One agent said, “Run your own race. Don’t submit early trying to get your work out to an agent or publisher because you see other people getting requests or book deals; do it in your own time.”

This was such valuable advice. Everyone wants success, but patience is key. If you send out your query and sample pages too early before they’re fine-tuned, the end result may be rejection versus a request to see more.

I am patient. My husband tells me I have the patience of a saint, but I’m inpatient with myself. If these last two and a half weeks have taught me anything, it’s grace. I need to give myself grace more. And a pat on the back once in a while (because hey, we all need that).

I’m also happy to be off today on this glorious Monday and feeling almost like myself again and back at my laptop. I’m happy to have completed this overdue blog post and given myself the grace to reduce the pressure I put on myself. And most importantly, I’m happy that by giving myself grace, both myself and my family recovered. As a result, we celebrated my daughter’s belated third birthday yesterday. It was the perfect ending to these last couple weeks filled with sparkles, smiles from my beautiful daughter, laughter from my son and family, and most of all love.

With love,