That damn zipper. Work ran late again that day, and I was in a hurry to get home. It was raining and already dark outside, but I was banking on our Friday night plans to make it all worth it. We were headed to a live, interactive, 1920’s themed murder mystery party and I had the most b e a u t i f u l dress. Black and gold brocade. I hadn’t worn it out yet, but I looked good in it.
There’s always a but, isn’t there? As I was getting dressed, the zipper broke. And it didn’t just break, because of course not. No, in true-to-my-life fashion, it snapped and got so stuck it wouldn’t budge. The teeth farther down were gaping open, and stuck closed near the top. Now, if you’re fa
miliar with brocade fabric, it’s not particularly forgiving. I tugged, pulled, twisted, scrunched and nothing, not even my husband could get me out of that dress.
I seriously considered throwing a cardigan over top and wearing it anyway because I was SO FOCUSED on wearing that dress. In fact, I did try a cardigan, but the bulging zipper teeth just above my ass gave me away.
At this point, any normal person would be frustrated, then move on and pick a different outfit.
But (there it is again).
What you need to understand is I had been working 70+ hour weeks for months on end. I hadn’t had a real day off in just as long. And it wasn’t work I loved. It was draining, soul-sucking, thankless work with the promise of a promotion that unfortunately never came.
So I did what any burned out, adult at the end of her rope would do: I cried.
I mean I b a w l e d. SCREAMED. I threw anything I could get my hands on. I bit myself. And I full on raged for several minutes until I finally collapsed in a heap on the floor trying to catch my breath.
I actually haven’t shared that story with anyone and yet here it is. My husband is the only person who knows about it, and that’s only because he had the unfortunate pleasure of being present for my epic meltdown and what ‘they’ like to refer to as the straw that broke the zipper camel’s back.
I put in my notice at work the following Monday and thus, Sincerely Intentional was born.
Just kidding. Sort of. I still consider that a defining moment in my life though it happened nearly 4 years ago.
The time between then and now has been filled with 2 temp jobs, the loss of my mother to cancer, a miscarriage, a new house, a healthy baby girl, being a stay at home mom, being diagnosed with an autoimmune disease, and deciding to put my girl in daycare to get a handle on my life again.
There has been a lot of grief, hopelessness, laziness, depression, and strife in the last few years. But there have also been some big, bright shiny spots too.
As I approached my daughter’s first birthday it really started to dawn on me that I really didn’t know where the time had gone. How much of it had I pissed away scrolling endlessly through my Facebook feed? How much of it had I wished away when all I wanted was to sleep through the night?
I’d been lost. Floating.
And then someone told me about Emily Ley’s Simplified Planner and I thought she was ridiculous for spending $60 on a planner. Right? I mean, were we in middle school again? Weren’t we supposed to have it all figured out by now?
I wish I would have known about this sooner. I wish I would have used it during those six years at that job I hated. During the four years when I was lost.
You see, Emily Ley has a friend named Lara Casey. And Lara Casey has an incredible product called Powersheets and fair warning, these are popular among the planner crowd so most of their shop is sold out for this year.
There are a million and one blogs out there about intentional living. Books, resources, communities. I feel so energized about this topic that before a couple of months ago I hadn’t given a second thought. Or a first thought, truthfully.
Intentional living isn’t about crossing the finish line. It’s something that you choose, every day. It’s something that I am choosing every day and would love for you to choose with me.
And thus, Sincerely Intentional was born.
For real this time.