I ate the whole month of May

Love, apparently, means questionable boundaries, themed pool parties, and no less than 14 trips to Costco.

How do you eat an elephant? 
One bite at a time.

—popularly attributed to Desmond Tutu

May was a hectic month. Hectic doesn’t really encompass how crazy it was. Actually it does. In line with the dictionary definition, it was “fast-paced, busy, and often stressful. It involve[d] a lot of activity and a sense of urgency. Examples include a hectic schedule, a hectic day at work, or a hectic period before the holidays.”

May was a hectic month.

My oldest son came home from college, my youngest son had finals, AP exams and was getting ready to graduate — deadlines, Mother Son Brunch, college decisions, award ceremonies, senior events, senior pics, and a senior ramen bar/pool party held at our house for my son and 15 of his friends. That was just the first half of the month.

One bite at a time.

Next came graduation; planning for 11 out-of-town friends and family members to celebrate with us for two weeks (staggered arrivals and departures but essentially all of us together for a full week). And those of you who’ve entertained out-of-towners for any extended period of time, understand the stress involved—logistics, meal planning, grocery shopping, multiple Costco runs, those last minute home improvement projects you forgot about until you see the pile of framed photos that have been stacked in the corner for the last 6 months…or maybe it was whole year, because we all know how time has a way of playing tricks on us.

M. was traveling the week before the ramen party which meant I was on my own to plan and prep the week before. (To be fair - he did a ton in the yard before leaving and came in clutch the morning of the party). I did it for my older son and his friends so I was going to make it happen for my younger as well.

Wooo saaaaaah. Breathe in, breathe out.

One bite at a time.

The first Christmas we were back in the United States, I invited my family (brother + partner, sister, partner, and daughter, mom and dad) to not only come out to California but to all stay with us. In our 1800sq foot 3 br home. With 2 bathrooms (one being our en suite). At that point in my life, I’d just come off three years of doing lunch and drinking wine on the Med in Southern Italy. No stress or guilt about not working because I was on my husband’s work visa. I couldn’t work by law. All that to say, I’d just come off of a fairly stress-free hiatus and my battery was fully charged and up for the challenge.

Fast forward 8 years.

Two terms with Trump; COVID; putting 2 boys through private highs school; traveling all over the state of California (and sometimes the country) to support them in their respective academic and athletic endeavors; building a beauty brand from scratch with less than $500; scaling said business; getting the first kid into college; getting the second kid into college; and a retired Naval officer husband who still travels close to 40% of the year. And to decorate the whole cake with icing—perimenopause. My afflictions include(d) but are not limited to: carpal tunnel, tennis elbow, frozen shoulder, night sweats, religious 3am wake up’s, dry, sensitive skin, joint pain, bouts of anxiety and depression, emotional outbursts, lack of energy, and heightened ADHD symptoms. I’ve missed some but that’s the highlight reel.

Suffice to say, the mere idea of entertaining almost took me out. I had to get over my quest for perfection and curating the perfect experience and get to a point where I literally said, fuck it. Everyone coming has been in my life since at least five years old (minus the partners and kids), and they were there to celebrate. Most importantly, they are all bound to me and can’t escape me even if they wanted to.

And we survived. I survived. The month long festivities and graduation. The last of our posse left June 1 and I used last week to recover, all the while trying to remind myself of the same advice I give my friends, give yourself some grace. Unfortunately, the shadow of my business looming over me 24/7 makes it difficult. I cannot not take my work home with me. It lives in my head. The energy spent trying to do something else, anything else, besides worry/obsessing/strategizing around my business—generating business, growing it, business, lack of it, the future of it—is exhausting.

One. Bite. At. A. Time.

I entered the last month already drained but the rhythm of family, of showing up for the people I love, has always pulled me forward. May was a storm. June is the exhale (the power of positivity!). July might bring new energy—or not. But I’m learning to move with the season I’m in, not the one I think I should be in.

I wish I could say I cracked the code, found the fix, came back rested and inspired. I didn’t. But I did finally stop pretending I’m fine. I’m asking harder questions now—about what I want to carry, what I can let go of, and what might actually fill me back up. That feels like a start.

As I try to find my footing again, there’s this: it’s almost summer. Both of my boys are home—for the first time in three years—and Mark isn’t traveling much. We’re heading out for a family vacation soon. For a moment, it feels like nothing ever changed. Or maybe that nothing has to, at least not today.

I still believe in showing up. In small joys. In honest rest. And in saying “I’m not okay” without shame. And trying again tomorrow.

Because we all know, there is only one way to eat an elephant.

One bite at a time.