I tend to make things bigger than they are; mountains out of molehills are my jam. I learned it from my dad, who tells the best (most exaggerated) stories. His stories are important, serious, emotional, funny, and BIG, and I guess I want my life to feel that way too.

  • If I have a conversation with someone and I get a weird vibe, I immediately assume they hate me and go over everything I’ve said to them with a fine-tooth comb. 
  • I take my Instagram breaks like Galadriel going into battle against the Orcs (IYKYK) – as if these breaks will save my soul, or prove that I have a handle on my dopamine addiction (I do not). 
  • I receive a writing rejection from a stranger who has read exactly one piece of my work and doubt my entire writing career – what’s the point? who cares? it’s time to give up. 
  • When I fail, forget to do something important at work, or mess up, it consumes me. It’s all I can think about. 

This list could go on and on, and as I read it back to myself I realize that most of what I give my attention to is not that serious. There are so many more important moments worth focusing on…

  • The other day, I FaceTimed my nieces and listened as they told me about the new school year, who their teachers are, and the books they’re reading. I made them laugh and they made me smile – that’s big, that’s important. 
  • A few weeks ago, we visited my husband’s grandmother. She’s in her 80’s and is as fierce and funny as the day I met her (16ish years ago). She came downstairs in her pearls, lipstick, and her favourite blue sweater, smiling from ear to ear. Surrounded by her family, her eyes glistened – that’s big, that’s important. 
  • I met up with my bestie for coffee after work. We talked about the things that ignite our souls – that’s big, that’s important. 
  • My much younger cousin, who I talk to almost every day, sends me photos of her little one. She tells me stories about motherhood, listens to me vent about nothing, and sends me posts about life and writing – that’s big, that’s important. 
  • When my OCD gets bad and I can’t leave the house without going through my compulsions, my husband pulls me out of it. It’s not easy to deal with me some days but he’s kind and patient – that’s big, that’s important. 
  • I am close with my family (in-laws included). I see them every week or every other week. I work with my sister (a few cubicles away) and get to spend my lunch hours with her. I text my brother weekly to make sure he hasn’t forgotten about me. I love my alone time and sometimes feel overwhelmed when I see everyone too often but they’re there – that’s what’s big, that’s what’s important. 

xo Vanessa

*Previously posted on Substack SEPT 24, 2024*