Hi! It’s been a while, y’all.
I started my self-publishing journey in 2024. I wrote the book, sat on the book, and then finally decided to make some moves.
Finding an illustrator I trusted and paying for said illustrator (yes, when you self-publish, ALL expenses are on you) took some time.
Then I got pregnant. Yayyyyy.
No, but for real, very grateful. However, pregnancy at 37 hit different. I was way hungrier, a lot more tired, and significantly lazier. But I pushed through. Literally.
THEN, in all my infinite wisdom, I decided to publish my book three weeks before having a baby.
That's right. All those grand ideas I had about marketing my book after hitting publish? Straight out the window. At that point, I was just racing to get it "done with" so I could focus on bringing a tiny human into the world.
And oh boy, did I use that as an excuse.
You have a brand new baby. Give yourself grace, Chazelle.
Eye roll.
After a few blissful weeks of the newborn phase (iykyk), that biatch postpartum was waiting right around the corner.
My baby is now 18 months old, and I'm finally starting to see the light at the end of the tunnel. Oh, I'm still ragey at times, but I'm starting to appreciate this life again. It's gone from feeling like a slap in the face to that unbearable realization that "this is all going to go too fast."
OH. That's why I wrote Mommy, Grow Down.
It's interesting. I never planned on having another baby, yet somehow this whole theme of "growing down" has come full circle.
My other child is eight.
SHE'S EIGHT.
Her friends are becoming her priority. Aesthetics matter now. Playing and cuddling are becoming less frequent. Our two attitudes are starting to clash. I told her the other day that “my attitude will always be bigger than yours.” Who says that to their child?
I have a baby and an eight-year-old. The whiplash between their different stages of growth, their needs, and even the way I have to talk to each of them takes a lot more brainpower than I ever anticipated.
One is learning how to be a person, and the other is learning how to be her own person. And somewhere in the middle, I'm trying to remember who I am, too.
Like so many moms, my identity took a hit that first year after having a baby. I lost motivation. I kept telling myself, I can always sell the book later.
Everything went on the back burner. And eventually, I started slacking in other parts of my life, too.
But this summer, something changed. I had quit breastfeeding (by going to Thailand) and post partum was finally taking a backseat.
A switch flipped.
THANK YOU, UNIVERSE. THANK YOU, BODY.
My motivation started creeping back. My days became happier. And I've developed this wonderful little IDGAF attitude. In a good way.
I'm fairly certain it's because I'm approaching 40. The Fs have been slowly leaving the building for years, but lately they're disappearing at an exponential rate.
I started creating content on social media. Something I've always wanted to do but was too scared to actually try.
But now? IDGAF.
IDGAF how people view me. What I do know is that future me would give a HUGE F if I looked back and realized I never even tried.
I've always been creative. I've always had a million ideas floating around in my head. This has been an outlet and has been FUN as hell. The creative process is fun. The editing is fun. The pressing ‘post’ button is fun. Wait, am I fun again?
IDK IDGAF.
Well, look at this rant.
This was nice. Therapeutic, even. Turns out sitting down and writing whatever comes to mind is an incredible way to decompress. Maybe I should do this more often.
Anyway, all of this to say...
I'm finding my way back to myself, actually. And I can't wait to share more. :)
