Sweating the Small Stuff

Please forgive me ahead of time for this rambling post. My brain is trying to hold so much information, and organize so many details—some of them big, and others not so much. Either way, I’m getting overwhelmed. Even the small things are threatening to overpower me.

Examples.

[Big]—My husband’s grandmother passed away. She was 94, so we are happy for her and know she’s in a much better place. The only problem is that my book launch is next week and somewhat interferes with the funeral plans. I’m torn over supporting my husband and fulfilling my obligations to my publisher. I’ve worked it out so that I’m available for most of the promotional events that were planned. I’ve informed my publisher and received their support, but still can’t stop thinking about it, and wondering if I’ve made the right decisions. I do that—I make a decision then dwell on it, rethinking every possible scenario until I feel like I’m going crazy. Why can’t I just STOP??

[Not life altering]—Because my book is coming out, I went shopping online last week looking for something to wear. Okay, so I went a little crazy, and spent more money than I should. Mainly because I hate shopping for clothes and usually don’t like what I buy, so I just pre-plan to hate some of them and send them back. So, the more I buy, the more chance I’ll get something that will actually work. Right? Normally, not a problem, but then Grandma dies and we have the added expense of traveling out of state to the funeral and all the expenses involved with that. Dang! I just spent all our extra money. No worries. We’ll be fine. We’ll rearrange things and make it work out, but a stress I didn’t need.

[Miniscule]—My daughter is competing in the National Ballroom Championship this weekend. For this event, she has to be tan. Our solution—Loreal tanning spray. I helped her put it on, and I swear I washed my hands after, but both my hands, and her body, are orange. Pretty much everyone at the competition has a fake tan, so not a big deal. But this morning I was in the shower, trying to return my hands to their normal color as thoughts ran through my head of signing books while people stare at my hands wondering what disease they might contract. Big deal? Not really. But it sure felt like it this morning.

Now, I’m sitting at the competition, trying to keep all of these things in perspective.

Breathe.

Next week will be busy, and before I know it, all the details I’m worried about will be ironed out, and go smoothly—or not. Either way, I’ll come out of it as a published author with my amazing husband and sweet kids surrounding me. And right now, that is enough.






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