Just... Breathe

I was driving back home last night from pool league and I could just feel the anxiety ratcheting up. Usually, I'm in a good mood, having indulged in one of my favorite activities.

It doesn't take much to make me happy, really. I love...

Reading a good book

Running a new story through my brain

Shooting pool

Eating amazing food

Learning something new

But recently? Let's just say there's a lot on the line. And I'm flat out scared it won't work. That my dream, my vision for our future, is a fool's errand.

I want to do what I'm good at, and let the rest of my fears fall away.

I want to write books that I would want to read

Those in the writing biz offer up conflicting advice on this subject. Many successful writers are diehard write to market success stories. And, well, good for them. Do what brings you joy or success, or hopefully a little of both. For me, success in my writing business would be writing books I love, selling enough to cover my costs, and somehow find my jam, and actually earn some fun money (travel, home improvement) with the stories that bubble up inside and the characters who demand I tell their stories.

I want to host guests in my short-term rental because damn it, I'm fucking great at it!

I was trying to access a recent five-star review a guest had left and the system was malfunctioning, so I couldn't see it. But as I moved between screens and tried to find it, I found myself reading the many other five-star reviews posted over the past year or more. Short-term rentals get a bad rap, and I have seen the hosts who are the reason why, but I'm not one of them. There is a lot of bad actors out there, and that sucks, because it gives the truly reputable hosts a bad name. And while some of my neighbors might think they would prefer long-term renters instead of me operating an STR, I've seen the quality of renters, dealt with them firsthand, and especially in this neighborhood, an STR guest is far more preferable to a long-term renter. After nearly 7 years in the biz, I have curated a stay that consistently earns five-star raving reviews.

I make good money, better than I would renting and dealing with difficult tenants. I enjoy hosting, and I'm good at it. What's not to love about that?

So what's got me so stressed? The act of GETTING IT ALL DONE. This morning, as I started this entry, we had a plumber come by and give us a quote. He'd done some of the sewer work for us and never seen inside of Cottage East.

He walked through, taking notes on what we needed done, peeking into the bedrooms and commenting. "Wow! This house is huge! And it's nice. You really have done a great job, this will be a wonderful rental."

And I needed that, right then. Especially as I continuously fight the anxiety and fears besieging me that we will blow through the tax return money before we are done with everything. That the steps we have taken, the work we have done, will not be in vain.

That some random arsonist (there are several active arsonists in this area) will not destroy our hopes and dreams. That we will be able to afford a new condenser unit (the last one, brand new, was torn apart by a homeless guy determined to get his $15 worth of copper versus the $4,100 it will take to fix it). That my son will be able to become a STR host too, just like me, and that we will co-host this property together as he figures out his future education and living quasi-independently in one of the bedrooms.

That we will finally, FINALLY be able to afford the fixes on our own house. Central a/c, finishing out the attic and basement, rebuilding the rickety back porches. And that I will get to focus on writing, hosting/co-hosting the STRs, and life will settle into a rhythm we can all live with.

Does screaming "Serenity NOW!" at the top of my lungs do any good?

Probably not.

So if you see me closing my eyes, taking slow breaths, and being really quiet - know I'm doing my best not to lose my mind. I'm trying to keep my shit together for just a little bit longer. Just a little... bit... longer.

Just... breathe.