Whew! What a week. I haven’t done a #CoffeeTalk post in a while — not because I have nothing to say, but because I have so many other posts going up, I figured it would get lost in the shuffle. And besides, I haven’t had time to breathe, much less write a “fun” post. Not that my other posts aren’t fun, but you know what I mean . . .
I will admit that I have way overcommitted myself with blog-related projects this year. Every year I go into this holiday season promising myself that I won’t take on too much. I will be more selective. I will pace myself. And this year is BY FAR the most stressful one yet.
It’s so hard to know what to ditch, though. I’m trying to keep track of what seems to resonate with you and what doesn’t so I can be smarter next year. I’ve never had a whole lot of strategy behind my blogging schedule. I just post what I want to post and take the opportunities I want to take, but this year there are way too many and I’m afraid some of it is getting lost in the noise.
Some things, like the gift guides and the Black Friday posts, I just do because I’ve always done it . . . without stopping to figure out if they’re worth it or not. This year I’m trying to keep track of stats, and it’s interesting. It’s the regular posts, the fashiony stuff and recipes that continue to be most popular. The posts that are the most time consuming are the ones that aren’t nearly as well trafficked.
And yet, lest I sound like a total shill, there are hundreds of emails I delete a day . . . hundreds of things that never see the light of day on my blog. It’s crazy overwhelming sometimes.
But I love it. I really do. I’ve always been a bit manic. I get panicky if I’m not busy enough. But there’s a fine line between busy-fun and busy-overwhelmed, and I feel like my life is a constant balancing act trying to walk that line.
I wish my workload wasn’t the ONLY reason I’m feeling overwhelmed.
On Tuesday, my foot totally flaked out on me again. I think I mentioned it earlier in the week. This time it’s far worse than it was before. The worst part is, I have no idea what I did to cause it. I was already living pretty much like an invalid, but I was starting to get back out there and feel normal again. I was so thankful to be feeling more like myself for the holidays. And now this.
I would be lying if I said I was approaching the situation with grace and humor. I am angry, I am frustrated, I am depressed, I am resentful. I hate relying on everyone else to do things for me. I hate not being able to help myself. And I really hate limping around like a dilapidated old woman. And you know what else? I MISS WEARING CUTE SHOES.
There, I said it. I am as vain as they come. I’ll own it.
And then there are all the holiday festivities I was looking forward to. We were planning to visit our favorite tree farm this weekend and cut down the family Christmas tree. I was looking forward to the Christmas parade that my son’s marching band is performing in this week. I was looking forward to my trip to NYC with my mom and daughters in two weeks, and now I find myself trying to figure out how I’m going to navigate the city in this stupid boot. I want to decorate the house for Christmas and bake more cookies and do all the things we would typically be doing this weekend.
But right now, even with the medical boot on, I can’t stand on my foot for very long without getting sharp paints shooting up through my ankle. (This is the foot that had the stress fracture, by the way. And the pain is in that same spot.)
I called my doctor’s office, but with the holiday weekend and all, they advised me to just wear the boot until I can come in on Monday or Tuesday.
So I sit and type away.
Maybe it’s a blessing in disguise that I have so much to do for my blog; it’s a welcome distraction.
Of course, my carpal tunnel has decided to flare up again. It’s no small wonder, with the hours I’ve been putting in on the computer this week.
So I have a brace on my right arm and a medical boot on my left foot. I’m a pitiful sight.
My family has been wonderful. My husband picks up the slack without a complaint, and the kids are all concerned. I try to plaster a smile on my face for their sakes, but they can see right through it. My little girl came up to me last night and said, “Mommy, I don’t like it when you’re sad.”
And truly, it’s a thin veneer of calm that I’m wearing. I really just want to throw a temper tantrum like a 2-year-old and then go to bed and sleep until it goes away. But what good would that do?
So yeah, when I said this was going to be True Confessions, I meant it.
I know I should say all the same things I usually say . . . I know it could be worse, I’m thankful it’s not something life threatening, I’m glad it’s not my kids who are hurt. But frankly, this just stinks.