Juggling, Grieving, Creating... and Still Catching Fireflies

I don’t know how to explain what my life looks like right now.
I just know that at 51 years old, I’m finally starting to feel like myself. And it’s wild.

This whole creative tornado… launching books, building a website, running a vintage shop… it’s beautiful and deeply weird and sometimes too much. Like most big life shifts, it’s also a mirror. And when you look in that mirror long enough, you see who’s really still standing there with you. That part is both heartening and heartbreaking.

Right now, I’m:

• Running my Etsy shop

• Shopping for it

• Listing and shipping vintage finds

• Writing (and rewriting) three books

• Doing my own graphic design

• Learning to edit videos, record audio, and market like I know what I’m doing

• Walking that exhausting tightrope between “I’m annoying,” “I give up,” and “OH MY GOD THIS IS ACTUALLY WORKING”

• Feeling waves of grief, especially for my mom

• Trying to make time for fishing with Mark, and for just being with Mark

• Babysitting my granddaughter

• Paying bills

• Folding laundry

• Feeling everything

I know I’m lucky in a thousand ways.
I have a roof over my head, people who love me, and the ability to create something from nothing.
I’m not blind to that.

But knowing you’re lucky doesn’t make you less tired. Or less overwhelmed. Or less human.

I had to pull back from the never-ending dumpster fire that is this country.

I haven’t stopped caring.
I still write the letters, call my reps, speak out when I see injustice.
I will always do that.

But I can’t let it consume me, or it’ll eat the part of me that creates.
And if that happens... they already won.

Choosing to create something joyful in the midst of all this mess, that’s not selfish.
It’s survival.
It’s also power.

I never understood that until I started living it.

Joy is resistance.
Kindness is resistance.
Telling soft stories with sharp edges and hope buried inside them... that’s how I’m staying upright.

And no, this isn’t about winning an award for doing too much.
I don’t want a trophy.

I just want a little cabin on the seashore.
I want to write.
I want to paint.
And I want to catch fireflies.

So if you’re here, reading this, maybe you’re juggling too.
Or maybe you’re grieving. Or building something. Or trying to feel like yourself again.

You’re not alone.
And you don’t have to be perfect to make something beautiful.

Let’s carry it together.

Jennifer

P.S. Got thoughts?
Feel something? Think something? Trip over your shoelace on the way to the comment box?
Me too.
Say hi below. I read every one and carry them with me longer than you’d think..