We tell our children that we don’t expect perfection, that it’s effort that is being measured, but are we misleading them? Are we misleading ourselves by pretending results don’t matter? I’m biting my tongue a lot in front of my kids so as not to dissuade their belief in trying, but I’m not so sure that’s best for any of us.
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I have to make some big changes in my career. Soon. Well, soonish.

Because some of my revenue streams have evaporated, new ones need to be tapped. Because I work in an ever-changing medium, adjustments need to be made all the time, and truth be told I’ve gotten pretty lazy about keeping up with those changes while traveling the country with my family.

I’ve made significant changes outside of my work life in the last year. My husband has become temporarily unemployed in order to travel full time and take on the responsibility of our children’s education. I moved out of a 3,000-square-foot home into a 24-foot travel trailer. I’ve visited dozens of American cities in the last eight months. I’ve gone from a two-car household to a one-car family, often not only sharing a vehicle but doing so in completely unfamiliar surroundings.

Yes, there have been a lot of changes for me in the last year, and so I have been understandably lax about keeping up with the ones that need to be made professionally.
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When I first moved into an RV and began working from the road, I had a long list of freedoms I was going to enjoy. At the top of the list was the ability to work (and not work) whenever I wanted.

I imagined spending Mondays at the beach and Saturday afternoons writing. I was going to be a timetable rebel, free from society’s antiquated rules about when we should and should not be working. Who says, after all, that we are more productive on Wednesdays than on Saturdays? Who decided that the hours between 9 am and 5pm would be set aside for working? "Who says?" I demanded with anti-establishment indignation.

Henry Ford said.
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We pulled into the Grand Canyon Thursday night. We were going to be camping for three nights, giving us two days to take our time exploring one of Earth’s most famous wonders. I’d worked extra hours earlier in the week so that I could unplug and enjoy four total days of driving and playing tourist.

About five minutes after checking into our campground, I got an email on my iPhone announcing a bit of a work emergency, something that demanded my attention within the next 12 hours.

My cell phone service promptly vanished as soon as I finished reading the email.

We unhooked the travel trailer from the back of our SUV, made sure no dishes had been broken in the transfer, and put the TV back in its place. Then I went hunting for wifi.
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I work pretty hard at being happy. I work even harder at finding peace and calm, at acknowledging what I can’t control and letting go of my desire to try anyway. I’m probably more aware than most of my state of mind at any given moment, and I feel a fair amount of responsibility about what that state might be.

I suppose that’s why it pisses me off so much when anxiety or fear come calling.

Of course, none of us likes anxiety or fear. As a species, we go to great and sometimes ridiculous lengths to avoid these cold, prickly feelings. Our instincts are to run from, ignore, or push down that which keeps us awake at night.

As a species, we’re kind of stupid.
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