Loving and Fearing Success


This week. Three repubs on Huffington Post. An original post on Scary Mommy. Scary Mommy also picked up one of the Huffington Post essays. I got a syndication offer. Thousands upon thousands of likes, comments, and shares.

Everything has changed. My house grew three sizes, the moldy cheese in the fridge turned into caviar, and a magic cleaning fairy showed up. Maya turned into a standard Poodle. Lorelei only watches Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous while wearing tea gloves.



Or I went through a drive through this morning in my pajamas and a pair of fuzzy crocs. Don’t ever let anyone say I don’t know how to celebrate.

I am freaking the hell out. Accomplishments make me edgy and full of mixed emotions. I want to keep the velocity, but am equally convinced this was all a complete fluke for which I am not deserving. What next merges with never again. The fear that this was my 15 minutes is harsh, convincing me to give up writing and hide under my comforter. Then I think of something else that needs to be said, so I sit back at my computer and make words.

I desperately want to escape the praise. The same praise that I crave so intensely. So many layers to my oniony brain.

It’s acutely uncomfortable to try to accept that I am good at certain things. A square peg in a round hole, my brain just doesn’t have a place to put it. Sometimes I try to imagine saying, “I am a good…” ugh, I can’t even finish the sentence. Even trying to think those thoughts sucks the oxygen out of the room.

On the flip side of that onion is the let down when things go back to normal. I am not someone who settles easily, I want to know what comes next, because patience is not a virtue with which I am even remotely acquainted. Once the momentum slows I will inevitably take it as evidence that I’m a fraud. I keep waiting to be found out. To overstep my abilities. Anything that doesn’t match previous success feels like failure. With every share and like I feel the target spreading across my back. I don’t like letting my guard down; getting too excited is the setting for disaster. My head is loud with swirling conflicting thoughts that won’t go into their separate corners. It feels like a million people talking at once, and there is no room for the rational pieces to have a seat at the table.

Don’t get me wrong, I am so freaking intoxicated by the last few days that I can hardly contain myself. It’s that kinetic energy with no outlet that short circuits my brain. I want to run around in circles or move furniture. My skin is buzzing with anticipation and impatience and anxiety.

So. What next?

For now there are tantrums to ride out – mine and theirs. A house to clean. Birthday parties. And plenty of time to wonder what I’ve gotten myself into, and what I’m supposed to do about it.


Weekend Recap

10 Things No One Told Me About the NICU – Scary Mommy

In Defense of the Mom Group – Huffington Post

It’s Not All Hand Washing and Light Switches – Huffington Post (featured on the main page!)

Hemp Milk and Ovaltine – Huffington Post

Important Facebook Shares

10 Things No One Told Me About the NICU – Scary Mommy

In Defense of the Mom Group – Scary Mommy

It’s Not All Hand Washing and Light Switches – HuffPost Women

In Defense of the Mom Group – HuffPost Parents

In Defense of the Mom Group – Huffington Post

I’m going to go cower in a corner now.

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