Northbound…

I’m on a train heading to New England for a women’s writing retreat…to a place that puts me outside my comfort zone. Actually, any place that is away from my family puts me outside my comfort zone these days.

Heck. Just last week, I hesitated and felt weird changing my Facebook profile pic to a headshot of just me. Like many middle-aged stay-at-home-moms (aka family CEOs), I’m uncomfortable self-identifying alone. But, time is ticking and my beautiful daughter is growing.

And I know another young girl who left home at 18 and grew and grew and wanted more and more for herself is still inside of me.

With a loving and supportive husband and daughter who are giving me the freedom of self exploration and encouraging me to open myself for inspiration, I’m now on a mission to find who I am after all of these years of my college degree collecting dust while I lovingly switched out the laundry, led the Girl Scout Troop, organized the class parties, spent countless hours in my car daily…and so on.

(You moms know I could’ve made a never-ending run-on sentence with what I- WE’VE- been up to lately…all with love…all for them.)

After walking away from my career in 2017 as a means to give my family all of me, I am now searching for what’s next.

I have no idea what I’m doing, but it is increasingly reigniting both my passion and inner-voice.

I have always loved writing. I love the opportunity to share my thoughts with the knowledge that the first draft, as Ernest Hemingway said, is always shit.

It’s the picking it apart line by line and the second chances that are gifted through editing that keep me coming back.

So often, I speak and later think, ‘What I really should’ve said was…’

The spoken word is, simply put, a published first draft.

With a degree in broadcast journalism, I began my post collegiate career as the News Director of three small town radio stations. The title certainly outdid my experience. I’m not sure if it was the on the scene live coverage of a gunman holding a community college math class hostage or the early morning phone call from my boss insisting I go to the scene of a two-year-old gunshot victim, but I knew rather quickly it wasn’t my jam.

Meanwhile, I was simultaneously freelance writing for the local newspaper under a semi-pseudonym, covering softer stories. It was fun. It was easy. But, it couldn’t pay all of the bills.

I went on to serve the State of Tennessee in a public relations position that still just wasn’t ’it’ either.

And then I landed in a wonderful industry that for generations didn’t share its own story; therefore, its story was told by others who didn’t know its truths.

The hardwood forest products industry, with no doubt, became my jam. Standing behind microphones, in front of classrooms, at the head of board tables, on screens, in print and anywhere that would allow me to speak and write, I told the story of the scientific truth and benefits of forest management through harvesting trees.

One of the last articles I published in an industry magazine was about a multi-year study done by Yale’s School of Forestry and Environmental Studies that validated my organization’s message…Yale said I was right.

Once that happened, I knew my work was nearing its end.

My role as CEO of my family was calling me home.

And so here I am with my car loaded on this northbound train years later…finding my role at home requiring less and less of me as my teenage daughter is growing into her place in the world.

All of these chapters…all of these positions led me here.

I’m searching for what’s next. And doing it on my keyboard. Albeit with no real formatting and lack of official style… Is it MLA? No. Is it Associated Press? No. Does it read similarly to my middle school diaries? Absolutely yes.

I’ll keep typing, I’ll keep sharing…I’ll keep searching for whatever the Mockingbird Sings style is meant to be.

Thank you for riding alongside me…I’m so grateful for you.