Last night I dreamed that I was living in Seattle with my family. They were some mocked together dream family with an irascible father/spouse figure and moody teens and a another motherly woman character my age named Tamara.
I needed out of the house, I was over it. I had to be back to make dinner, but left to take a quick drive in my car to blow off steam.
I was behind the wheel, sad and feeling pitiful and overwhelmed. I needed to find answers and direction. I saw a huge crane moving massive cargo up high near me, and the beauty of it got inside me. I pulled over my car to watch and got out to see better.
Cathy Heller (the host of my favorite podcast that I credit with putting a fire in my belly to finally start my business) was walking through the parking lot. She looked amazing and had on beautiful clothes.
“Is that Jennifer Fogerty?!!” She said.
“Yes, it’s me!” I acknowledged.
She went on to tell me behind the scenes details about her business and the podcast and now crazy busy everything is in her life but how good, too.
It was lovely to see her.
I got back in my car and drove home. I was a half hour later than I had said I’d be. Tamara and the spouse and the teenagers were all mad at me, saying things like:
- Dinner is late
- If you cook in here it will smell like poop (said by the spouse)
- You said you’d be here
I tried to explain that I had just met my idol, and that’s why I was late. They didn’t care. I suddenly realized Tamara had artificial legs. She was cleaning the whole house and rooting around for something to feed the teens.
I felt like a guilty piece of poop.
I find it interesting that I made another mom character and that she was super capable and that my subconscious gave her artificial legs just to make me feel worse. That the spouse character thought me cooking meat would smell like poop. That the teens were surly (no surprise.)
Cathy was a shining light.
I need to grow my business and stop worrying about what others think. That means write every day. Write a lot. Write like my ass is on fire. Wake up earlier. Find the time. Sacrifice some stuff, like maybe no to the after work beer.
It’s really hard. I came home to see two knives in the sink with peanut butter on them. I could die.
Life is so hard. Yet we can wipe off the peanut butter and start again.
Until we make it happen.
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