Tabitha Freeman's Blog

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I’ve been working remotely for the past 9 years now, and though the prospect of this really sounds alluring (which, it definitely has its perks, don’t get me wrong), it can also be strenuously hard. With the huge flux of people being repositioned to work from home for their jobs now into the unforeseeable future due to this coronavid pandemic, I thought I’d throw out some tweaks and tips I’ve learned over the years that might, even just a little, make such a solitary shift a tad bit easier.

You’ve got to have a view. Working remotely practically comes with a guarantee you’ll get lost in your own head at times. Having a windowed view that you enjoy and that allows you to look up and outwards offers a temporary reprieve for your mind.

But also get me away from everything. I think the most important thing I’ve learned about working remotely is that distractions and temptations to do everything but work are all around. I had to think about the places in my home that I frequented the most, gave me the most joy, and offered the ultimate mood for leisure. (My kitchen, my bedroom, and my living room sitting area in front of the TV/laundry room are hot spots for me) Then, I chose my workspace as a place that was completely separated from these areas. For me, it’s a home office, but for anyone that’s just temporarily setting up a workspace that maybe doesn’t have a whole room to dedicate, I’d suggest pinpointing your most distracting spaces in the home and setting up an area as far away as you can from those.

And it’s not just because of distractions that you want to keep your workspace separate from places like the kitchen or in front of the TV. It’s also because taking breaks throughout your workday is crucial, and the literal act of getting up from your desk and taking the steps to the kitchen to make lunch, or to the laundry room to throw in a load, offers another reprieve for your mind and body.

Speaking of getting lost in your own head, taking breaks throughout the workday can either allude you, or become your entire week instead of actually working if you’re not careful. As ridiculous as it may sound, productivity apps for my phone/computer make a huge difference in creating a healthy workflow/mental break balance. One of the most difficult things about working remotely is holding yourself accountable for being productive and keeping the discipline to actually do what needs to be done. And not everyone has a knack for it—but that’s okay! That’s where these apps like Slack, Trello, and Hootsuite, come in handy. From timers to easy, 20-minute spurts of scheduled specific tasks, and even to obnoxious alerts that are reminiscent of foghorns, productivity apps offer aid in everything from time management to lists. These are just really awesome tools to help you create a healthy and prolific work environment. I even have a couple of programs/settings on my laptop that black out my screen to only view a project document, and timed blocks prohibiting my ability to peruse the internet.

Again, even if it’s temporary, setting up a workspace that feels like a workspace is imperative. You don’t have to go all in and buy an office furniture suite, but you can invest in little things that are just as efficient. Memory foam butt pillows for your chair, gel rests for your wrists in front of your keyboard and mouse, scented candles, a speaker or headphones for music, fidget spinners, a Rubik’s cube, an air purifier, or even a coffee warmer pad to keep your java or tea steaming all morning—all offer an ambiance that is cheerful, focused, and personalized to what makes you most productive.

Lastly, don’t forget to step outside. Walk your dogs, have your lunch on your back porch, or go have a ten-minute phone call with your mom in your front yard—whatever it is, getting fresh air a couple of times a day really does wonders for the mind, body, and soul, and it absolutely helps to keep the cabin fever away.

If you have tips about working from home, please drop them in the comment section below! One thing I cannot speak on myself is working from home with kids, so if you have tips for that, please share!

Happy quarantining, everyone.

 

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Part of the process when I’m writing a novel or story, is penning a personal essay when the book is finished. It’s an extra bit of rambling I get to do on my own to really dive into the story, the impact it had on my life, and what I hoped to accomplish with all those words. I’ve done this with all 13 books I’ve written, and I always just keep this to myself. The last book I released about a month ago, The Phobic’s Son, my husband got his hands on the personal essay I did for it. He went on and on about how strongly he felt that I should share this—even if it was just a little bit—with the world.

At first, I hesitated because the last thing as an author I ever want to do is nudge my readers in any direction in interpretation of a story. I create the world, but you get to choose how you travel it.

But, he wore me down eventually, so here is just a small portion of the personal essay I wrote for The Phobic’s Son. Whether you’ve read it, are reading it, or are deciding if you want to, I hope this essay is a nice addition to your experience with Bisbee Lockhart and Jack Beaumont.

***

When I was writing The Phobic’s Son, there were some key elements to the novel that made it an important story.

First and foremost, the relationship between Bisbee and Jack. The sparks, chemistry, and compatibility are off the charts, and what they have almost instantly is what a really great, healthy romance and partnership can look like. Dare say, it’s one of those partnerships we all look for in the long run.

But their relationship is just a small part of things. Any of us can have this dream relationship, but one constant inevitability is that even if that relationship is the center, it comes with and will shoot off so much more—much like a spiderweb, if you will. The biggest of the baggage seems to come from Jack and his phobic parents, and the life behind him he brings along with him. And certainly, that’s a huge aspect of the story. It’s the eponymous title, for goodness’ sake!

However, we can’t forget that all ‘baggage’ is subjective. There is no scale—or there shouldn’t be, anyway. What Bisbee brings with her isn’t clear to us at first. We think she might be how we see our own selves: coming with simple, slightly embarrassing suitcases full of things we consider our guilty pleasures or our idiosyncrasies. Things we feel are just embarrassing enough to be what makes us not ever ready to completely show our whole selves to people we love the most. For Bisbee specifically, she sees herself as this word nerd who is obsessed with a culture that doesn’t belong to her, or that can be seen as a stereotypical Austen/love-that-accent girl. We know there’s nothing wrong with that, but if it were us, maybe we wouldn’t be so sure. That’s where Bisbee falls, and it’s just enough that she worries it might cloud her judgement on her own relationships.

Yet, this isn’t her ‘baggage’, or the tough stuff she brings with her. It’s a couple of things. Things that seem normal to us. Things that seem so much less serious than what Jack brings. But as the story unfolds, we see that seemingly normal baggage, such as worry for our parents’ mortality or past relationships that hurt us or changed us, are exactly the same weight as anything else. They pack just as big of an impact, and they can impale right through a relationship like anything else can.

There are also a couple of other elements that lend a huge significance to the story. Firstly, Bisbee and who she is all around. Like most of us, she’s embarrassed of things about herself that are really just a beautiful staple of what makes her her. While others give her a hard time about this, Jack sees only illuminated adulation for all of it. Self-acceptance for every little thing about herself is important to this story, no matter how overtroped that is or trite it sounds. It’s ALWAYS important.

Perhaps the most important thing of all in this story, is the entirely human way that Bisbee goes through what she learns Jack comes with. It would be easy to say what we would do—if you love someone, taking all of them is just how it works. And that’s mostly true. But that doesn’t mean we are not entitled to doubts and erratic emotions that come with what it means to process, to understand, to empathize with, and to fully be there for our partner. For Bisbee, she goes through layer after layer of real, understandable emotion without ever doubting her feelings of true, deep love for Jack. She wants to feel that unshakable love and support and calmness and acceptance for Jack and what is his life forever. But wanting and doing don’t go seamlessly hand in hand ever. And the whole point is, that’s okay. The struggles she does and will have in the future are Bisbee’s right, and frankly, she deserves to feel them. When her own past shows up, all these foreign emotions she’s trying to deal with with Jack cloud her judgments. Feeling so out of control of these new things she’s trying to process, she shoots for what falls in front of her that she can control—and that just happens to be a terrible ex.

In the end, I think what I hoped to resonate are just a handful of simple things. First, we may not agree with every decision or reaction the characters have, but they are so, so real. It is easy to be quick on what we would do, but regardless of who you are as a person, the same thing rings true for all of us: the heart takes you places you always level-head swore you wouldn’t go. These are moments we hide, but maybe we shouldn’t. Secondly, at the end of the day, love really does conquer all, though reading into that is a little more complex. There are little bits that have to come along with it. Things like acceptance. Things like compromise. Things like allowing ourselves to feel stuff that isn’t necessarily full of light—and not apologizing for it. Things like unconditional forgiveness when our partner feels those things and needs a little space to understand themselves. We have to be who we are. And we have to be open and kind: with the people we love, but more importantly with ourselves and what we need. No matter how often it changes.

And maybe the best bit: big gestures never run out of style. No matter the reason, there is no greater feeling.

I hope you fell in love with Bisbee, Jack, and all their people as much as I did. Now, onto the next pen to paper.

XOXO,

TRF

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Y’all. I have never felt more understood and also judged by any meme.

And I know you do, too.

Actually, I know for certain there are A LOT of kindred spirits out there with the same feels. Case in point:

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Even the Most Interesting Man in the World is not immune, people.

 

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This actually is not a bad purchase, TBH.

 

 

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Preparedness is key, tho. [image error]
#TreatYourself?

 

This guy has even profited through his YouTube channel for this very real affliction. 

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Whether it’s amazon, target, walmart, ebay, etsy, woot—whatever your poison—I AM A VICTIM. I stand by this.

Hear me out.

There are 3 instances:

It’s been a long-ass Monday (maybe Tuesday if you’re Drake), and you look up at the clock to see it’s after 8 p.m. You throw your hands up, grab a nightcap, and chill out in front of Bravo to decompress in front of your favorite Housewives trainwreck situation.
Same scenario, without a nightcap. Maybe you quit the long day a little later, or maybe you’re up with a newborn, and you’re falling asleep—half still apart of this world, but definitely somewhat still awake. Hashtag Danger Zone.
It’s any day of the week. You’re pissed off about something and the only saving grace is impulse and retail mixed together like a napalm and wine smoothie.

Next thing you know, USPS is knocking on your door amazon prime two-ish days later with 4 boxes of staples, a cheesemaking kit, and a peloton bike that will definitely cost you your mortgage this month.

Sometimes the purchases that show up aren’t even the funniest part—it’s what’s hanging out in your online cart. The 52 items you stocked in that online cart will speak volumes about who you are deep down as a person the next morning. Three area rugs, a Jonas Brothers biography, a funko pop of Colonel Sanders, and Hall & Oates Greatest Hits later, you have no defense. What the hell, off-brand NyQuil?! You’re supposed to be my comrade in the neverending quest for decent sleep and relaxation. How could you let this happen, handful of melatonin gummies? I trusted you! All you did was lead me down the path of embarrassing almost-purchases, and maybe a few definitely clicked BUY NOW situations.

Anyway, 2019 has really been…well, it’s been something for me with this online shopping illness, and I just wanted to share with you what surprises have shown up at my doorstep in that smiley little amazon prime box so far this year.

A pair of hot pink lightning bolt earrings straight outta 1986.
A Keith Morrison popsocket. Yes. THAT Keith Morrison from Dateline. Keith steal-ya-girl Morrison more appropriately, apparently.
“Mr. Bean: The Whole Bean” DVD box set
A sequin ascot
A row machine.

Yes. You read that last one right. You can’t say drunk/sleep-deprived me isn’t at least motivated for a healthier lifestyle.

And we’re still just at the beginning of the year, people! Who knows what the next 8 months have in store!

The funniest things that have been hanging out in my cart—just this past month?

A 725 pack of scrub daddys
A burrito blanket
Lots of knives (I’m assuming for cheese boards, but honestly I don’t even know who I am anymore…)
More 80’s earrings in the form of cassette tape replicas
Beard ornaments
Puka shell necklaces (oh, yes I did)
No less than 5 Edgar Allen Poe pun t-shirts
“Adorable Plush Stuffed Goat That Turns Feisty With A Squeeze”
A Tibetan singing bowl set

It’s actually so entertaining/embarrassing, that I think I’ll do a monthly update of secret Santa (courtesy of me) packages, and items in cart I come so deadly close to pulling the trigger on.

What’s the craziest online purchase you’ve made and surprised yourself with?

 

Happy Week is Almost Over, people!

There is a man you know all too well. He is the man you call your neighbor. He is the man who is your complete, go-to manual to fix anything with wheels or a motor. He is the man with the broad shoulders and contagious laugh who stands behind you in line at the gas station every Friday evening to buy his “winning” lottery ticket. He is the man who helps you to load the fifty-pound bag of mulch you just purchased from Lowe’s into the back of your truck. He is the man who always knows more than what the History Channel, CNN, and Discovery Network can seem to teach him. He is the man who never misses a Sunday of NASCAR races or a late, late Saturday night BSU game. He is the man who doesn’t ask for much—just an occasional medium-rare filet and an ice cold beer. He is a son. He is a brother. He is a husband. He is a father. He is a red-blooded American man who shares the same spirit as your brother, your husband, your father, your grandfather, your uncle. This is a man you know all too well.

But here is what you don’t know. This same man went to war with the U.S. Army when he was just 21 years old. He and his 24th infantry brothers were in the Battle of Medina Ridge. And when he came home from the Middle East, he wasn’t done serving. With no time for an intermission, this man took up his role as loving husband, compassionate father, loyal brother, dedicated son full-on.  Before you knew this man all too well, he was bravely protecting your rights to be a neighbor, to drive your car, and to buy your “winning” lottery ticket.  He is the one of the brave soldiers who made it possible for you to purchase mulch for your yard, for you to flip through 300 channels worth of History, CNN, and Discovery. He is the man fighting the worst kind of enemies so that you would never have to miss your Sunday of NASCAR races, medium-rare steaks, or a beer in a frosty pint glass.

This man is Robert Kent Freeman. This man is my father, my friend, and my hero. We can never forget why we are free. Take a second to notice these heroes who walk among us—the men and women you know all too well.  Take a second to thank someone who served.  Pick up a soldier’s tab in the drive-through burger joint you love, or make an effort to tip your hat to those brave men and women as you walk through the airport on your next vacation. Don’t pick just today to honor these exemplary human spirits. Pick any day you get the chance.

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God bless America and God bless the extraordinary man who I have the privilege of calling my Dad.

 

Happy Veterans Day.

Taking a break in this post from all that purging and minimizing talk. Actually, this whole next spiel came about because I was losing my mind, therefore then finding myself doing the following said ridiculous things…

I joined Facebook in its beginnings—2005. When you could only join if you had a legitimate college or university email.

Um, everyone, that wasn’t a few years ago. It was over a decade ago. 13 YEARS.

It felt cool, and it felt exclusive. Like there was finally a place where you could get away from the overcrowded noise of MySpace and the original minimum characters social platform that was AIM INSTANT MESSENGER. (You know we all did it just for that away message)

I start with all of this just to lead into ….

I fell into a black hole yesterday. That forgotten dark space of our Facebook profile that once was more important than our LimeWire screen name. Yes, that’s right. I found myself in the throes of THE FAVORITE QUOTES SECTION.

It’s just been sitting there. For years. Right there. Under the About section. Sleeping within the Details About You tab. And right below the Name Pronunciation bar.

The OG 2005 quotes that were carefully selected. The words that would represent the very pillars of our souls, the very first reaches into our depths that new friends would see…

I give to you now…copy and pasted here directly from the Facebook My Favorite Quotes section. No edits, no rearranging. The depths of my soul, people. THE DEPTHS.:

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“A dingo ate my baby.”

“But Lt Dan, you ain’t got no legs.” – Forrest Gump

“Great balls of fire. Don’t bother me anymore, and don’t call me sugar.” ~Scarlett O’Hara

  “The cure for anything is saltwater: Sweat, Tears, and the Sea.”

“Tab, you just better go ahead and take that cross off, God already knows who you are.” ~college roommate

“Ew, it is so gross when a 50 yr old man picks up a 20 yr old girl.” – my mom

“No, THAT is a true hunter.” – my dad

“Veni Vidi Vici.” ~Caesar

“Love is passion, obsession, someone you can’t live without. If you don’t start with that, what are you going to end up with? Fall head over heels. I say find someone you can love like crazy and who’ll love you the same way back. And how do you find him? Forget your head and listen to your heart. Run the risk, if you get hurt, you’ll come back. Because, the truth is there is no sense living your life without this. To make the journey and not fall deeply in love – well, you haven’t lived a life at all. You have to try. Because if you haven’t tried, you haven’t lived.” ~Meet Joe Black

“As you wish.” ~The Princess Bride

“All my life I’ve lived by a code and the code is simple: honor the gods, love your woman, and defend your country.”~Troy

“Through it all,when there was doubt

I shot it up or kicked it out,I faced the wall & the world

And I did it my way.” ~Sid Vicious Version

“I’m going to search this shitty world for some beauty and excitement and I’m going to have a bloody good time!” ~H.Fielding

“I will slap your face…off of your face.”–Sunny in PA

“When you love someone, you have to love all of ’em. If you don’t, it ain’t love.” ~Trueblood

“You can’t write anything if you’ve never been shot at or been gorged by a bull.” ~Hemingway

“I’m just one stomach flu away from my goal weight.” ~Devil Wears Prada

“Even when those who move you be kings or men of power, your soul is in your keeping alone. When you stand before God you cannot say “but I was told by others to do thus” or that “virtue was not convenient at the time. This will not suffice. Remember that.”~Kingdom of Heaven

“As nice as a boyfriend sounds, a relationship would require morals and self-restraint – both fields in which I lack…and mama always taught us to never change for a boy!”

“I think the only feelings I have left anymore are drunk and hungover…you can’t hurt those!” ~TFLN

“When I stand before God at the end of my life, I would hope that I would not have a single bit of talent left, and could say, “I used everything you gave me”. ~Erma Bombeck

“If you knew for certain you had a terminal illness–if you had little time left to live–you would waste precious little of it! Well, I’m telling you…you do have a terminal illness: It’s called birth. You don’t have more than a few years left. No one does! So be happy now, without reason–or you will never be at all.” ~Dan Millman

 

Okay, everyone! Were any of these some of your old faves?  I invite you to jump into YOUR OWN black hole of decade-old Facebook quotes and share your favorite(s)! Surely they can only get better and better (and cringier), right?

Also, don’t we need some kind of hashtag for this? Can you just imagine the hilarity…

Cheers, and happy Tuesday!

TRF

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I wanted to be funny and clever and sunshiney in this blog post, but it’s just not happening. I woke up today exhausted and on-edge. I sipped on my coffee as I started my morning, and became panicky about our decision to drastically downsize our life. We are in deep—in the middle of it all—and I’m in a mode on this stormy Thursday where I am doubting. What a beautiful house we have—is it the right decision to sell, to change that when we don’t have to? What if we choose the wrong rental and are stuck in a place we hate for a year?  We only have like two material possessions left to get rid of—will this leave us feeling empty instead of liberated? Why can’t I seem to let go of a few random things here and there? This is supposed to be a ruthless “everything must go” process, yet I’m still tethered to things that would probably appear stupid to anyone else.

I’ll get over this hump of completely emotional-based drama. I know I will. Most likely, it won’t last past tonight. But the wretched mix of emotions right now are under the clouds, coming in waves of uncertainty, doubt, guilt, anxiety, and fear. I think it’s important that, no matter how brief of a storm this is that’s passing through, I acknowledge that it’s here. And that it’s okay. If I didn’t have days like this amidst the whole big experience, it would mean it wasn’t important. And it’s so important.

I actually didn’t want to post this, didn’t even think about posting at all today. For a stupid reason—because I’m 90% so amped and excited for what we are doing, that it almost feels like it should be embarrassing to feel the complete opposite today. It feels like I should scold myself for feeling this way, or for complaining about something I brought on myself.

But that’s just dumb.

When I posted my original blog on this whole adventure of lifechanging downsizing a couple weeks ago, I had people from all over, all with different lifestyles and life situations that were shouting from the rooftops, “Me too, Tab!” So, no matter what stage you’re in on your own journey, stick with it. If you’re having one of these days too, or maybe several days like this, that’s not a bad thing. It just means you’re human and that this big decision you’ve made for yourself, or you and your family, it’s one that counts for something.

xoxo,

TRF

 

P.S. Promise I’ll be back with happier tidings next go ‘round

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This week’s happenings brought to you in the form of inner, spastic monologues.

 

Purging material possessions feels so good! So productive! Go me!
We have a chocolate fountain?
This is the stupidest thing we’ve ever done, it’s so impulsive, this is such a bad idea…
THIS IS THE BEST IDEA! I LOVE GETTING RID OF STUFF!
Oh, look, a stress pimple.
You brought this stress on yourself. You’re an idiot.
I HAVE NUNCHUCKS?!
Dreamt about Altoids last night. Found 2 cans purging today. But…I haven’t had an Altoid in 5 years…so, how…?
Dah-ding! Quickly gives self whiplash by checking Facebook Marketplace alert. Yes, sir, you CAN offer me asking price for these 17 bags of used wine corks.
I’m exhausted. But so much to do. Can’t take a break…
…Current status: Man, I really want to buy an oversized stuffed pickle with glasses.
Oh, look, another stress pimple. Oh, no, wait. There are two.
I really should have not put the Craigslist Killer movie on as background packing noise…
Is Pluto a planet again, or no?
How many black cardigans do I really need?
How many black cardigans with sequins do I really need?
How many cardigans do I really need? Stares at mound of approximately 50 cardigans for 5 minutes, possibly without blinking. “I have a problem,” whispers out loud to self. Stares for 5 more minutes. Turns and walks to fridge to get a beer.
Oh, look, another stress pimple.
Dah-ding! Finger on phone screen immediately. No, ma’am, I will not take your offer of 6$ for my $700 sofa.
What if Mike was short for Micycle?
There’s a stress zit on my kneecap. What the actual f—
Dah-ding! Phone is on face at this point, eyes wiggling back and forth to keep up with all the selling activity. No, sir, I actually won’t be available at midnight on a Thursday for you to come to my house to look at this $15 dollar set of teacups to make sure you really like them.
Welp, spent about $294875942875932874932 dollars at Starbucks this week. Pulls through the Starbucks drive-thru. “Hi, can I get 7 flat whites, please?”
Looks at husband, real panic sinks in “Realtor will be here tomorrow to take pics, and then the house is going up for sale! We have so much left to do!” Sits down and watches Breaking Bad marathon
Clean, clean, clean, purge, purge, trash, scream, purge, clean, trash, drink.
Is a bleach high a real thing?
Dah-ding! Dah-ding! Dah-ding! Dah-di—
“Honey!” Husband is shaking me awake. “It’s just a dream, it’s just a dream!”

“A-a dream?” I ask.

“A dream!” he says. “Well, the dah-ding part. You’re just hearing that phantom sound continuously now.”

“Will it be permanent?”

“Probably. But guess what?”

“What?”

“We did it!” he hugs me.

“We. Did. It?” I repeat. I squeeze him back real hard. “WE DID IT!”

“But also,” he says. “Someone offered me $20 for your car. We should take it, yeah?”
Punches husband in face, heads to the medicine cabinet to put zit cream on beautiful, new emerging stress pimples.

 

 

Happy Hump Day, everyone.

 

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Key West really does something to you.

Or, rather, insert your favorite vacation destination. You know, the one you can’t quit, the one you keep coming back to, the one you empty your savings account just for a few days out of a year to be there.

Yeah, that one.

That place. That place that we all have. That place really does something to you.

My place, as I stated before, is Key West, Florida. I’ve been tons of times, and last month, my hubs, LT and I went to soak up the fun of the island as usual. But for whatever reason, this time around our vacation was different during, and most certainly after.

I was sad to leave, as always. Nothing new here. But when I returned home, I was absolutely suffocated. Suffocated by things. My sofa, my dining room table, my plates, my Christmas wreaths, my cushions. My house. Everything material that I had been hauling around for years had suddenly transformed into this concrete wall around me—too tall to climb over, no cracks to break out through. Dramatic.

Now you have to remember, I’m a railroad wife and an avid leisure traveler on top of that. LT and I are always on the move, whether that means relocation for the RR, or just popping out for a weekend to check out a cool city. Because of this lifestyle, we are big on frequently purging material possessions. All that to say….

This feeling of entrapment upon returning from our beloved Florida island was odd and unexpected to say the least. And even if you own less material possessions than the average person, it’s also jolting when you realize that doesn’t mean you still don’t own a lot of stuff.

I’ve seen the Tiny Houses show plenty of times. I’ve watched the minimalist lifestyle documentaries before. The revelation that life without stuff weighing you down is the core concept, but it definitely does not have a universal, one-meaning translation. Minimalism and commitment-free living have a different definition for everyone. Is this my anti-stuff revelation? Well, I think I’d rather call it my “finally fed up” moment. Fed up with the upkeep, fed up with the unused space, fed up with the money pit that every house—new or old—will be, and fed up mostly with the insurmountable fact that I’m not planting the garden out back or finishing the paint on the accent wall in that bedroom, not because I don’t have time necessarily—but because I just don’t want to. The love and nurture that should go into any home (whether that’s a mansion or an RV or a studio apartment) has escaped me. And this kills me because there is nothing I love more than to make a house into a home. Too much neglect on my part because, well, it’s just not the lifestyle my husband and I want to be living right now. Yet still, we’ve been choosing to stay here.

The American Dream seems to have a pretty standard map when it comes to lifestyle and lodging. And it’s a beautiful blueprint. One that so many people live, and thrive while doing so. But much like the definition of purging and minimalistic living, it’s actually not as universal as we grow up to believe. The A to B to C and so on plan is great in so many ways—it delivers focus, strive for greatness, things to look forward to, expectations, an embrace of reality, awesome happiness, and much, much more. But as trite as it sounds, it really is not for everyone.

I’m 32 years old and I feel very fortunate so far in what I’ve accomplished in my life. One of those milestones being that I’ve been a successful homeowner twice. And that’s where you’re supposed to end up, right? Once a homeowner, you stay in that lane. It would be ludicrous to go backwards.

Do you see now where I’m going with all this?

Yep. That’s right. Backwards.

My personal American Dream has shifted, and it’s one that is simply this: live my life for what it looks like now. Instead of the copious amounts of square footage bubbled into 5, 6, 7 rooms, right now we dream of the studio loft. Instead of the fenced in backyard, right now we dream of the back veranda patio, laden with string fairy lights and overflowing banana trees. Instead of putting the work into a new AC unit or fixing a leak, right now we dream of kicking back for a moment and leaving that responsibility to someone else.

It’s exciting and it’s terrifying, but you know what? It’s time. We are just at the start of this journey, and I have to say—I let out a little breath of relief every time a piece of material stuff goes out my front door, never to return. I daydream about not coming home from a week-long work trip or vacation to a musty house to clean that I truly only use 1/10 the space of.

Here are some brutal truths of what I’ve learned so far, just being less than a month into all the madness:

The wretched headache that is selling. I forgot just how tug-and-go selling your stuff is with people. It’s frustrating, time-consuming, and at times can be insulting when someone wants to lowball you on price, even when you’re not feeling personally attached to the item for sale. On that same token though, as not-fun of a process as selling all your stuff is, there is a huge rush of satisfaction and contentment when an excited buyer takes that weight off your hands and gives it a good home. It feels really incredible not just to purge, but also to see that something that once fit so perfect in your life, will now be that perfect fit for someone else.
Getting rid of all your things can truly be a mourning type of experience. And it’s so unpredictable. You’ll easily let go of a $2000 table set, but you get misty eyed and can’t seem to loosen your grasp on that faded out t-shirt from college. It’s weird, and it’s dumb sometimes, but it’s inevitable to happen. Accepting that it’s okay to let yourself grieve an end table is a necessary step in the whole process. Which is to also say…
…the relationship with things. An insane realization now hits that for so long, I have had this relationship with my things. A true relationship that I have been exhaustingly and constantly maintaining. When I move, I have to ensure there is room for whatever said thing I have, and if there is no room, I can’t move into the space, even if I love it and it’s perfect otherwise. Constant dusting if the said thing is by a window. Frequent increase of more cleaning and upkeep for certain materials like wood and stone and glass. Frequent increase of cleaning and upkeep in general for the more material possessions I am maintaining a relationship with. (Yes, of course I know that any and everything we have has to be taken care of and treated with respect, and I’m definitely not whining about or overlooking that. I’m just saying that it is completely okay to admit to yourself that you don’t want that extra responsibility in your life right now.
Saved by the sticky notes! My best friend had an incredible idea to help with the aforementioned #2 & 3. Sticky note the hell out of all my things, with phrases written on those notes such as “You don’t have to move me!”, “You don’t have to figure out where to put me!”, “When was the last time you used me?”, “What do you need a cheetah ottoman for, anyway?”, “Tab, you do not have room for 2,000 wine corks.”
90% of people will not understand this sell everything and downsize decision. They’ll support you, but be completely baffled, and at some points, a small part of you will take their disbelief and terror for you to heart. You’ll question if you’re being impulsive, rash, and if this is the stupidest idea ever. But just breathe. This is not the stupidest idea ever, it’s the best—for you. And that’s what matters the most.

 

So far, I’ve had the most luck with selling on Facebook Marketplace for furniture and bigger items. We currently live in a really small town (I think the population is under 25,000), so other popular selling sites like Craigslist, LetGo, VarageSale, and OfferUp just don’t seem to be working here at all. For clothes/wardrobe anything, Poshmark and Mercari have been pretty 50/50 for sales.

 

Are y’all ready to ride along with me on this crazy adventure? Here goes nothing! Have you had experience with selling everything and dramatically downsizing to change your entire life? Post your tips and tricks of the trade, or personal experience in the comments below!

 

Cheers! TRF

Y’all! I know, I know. It’s been an almost 4-year hiatus. But the blog is back! Railroad Wife-ing is no joke! Seriously, Andy Cohen, I’m waiting for the proposal for a Bravo reality show like yesterday. Also, I’m now out of the Great White Arctic and into the great state of Texas (cue “Texas Forever” in Tim Riggins’ voiceover)  Other big changes since the person in 2014 last posted:

I’m now Level 32 (…years old…)
My hair is a rose gold pink (today)
I’m “mothering” two dogs
I’m living out of hotels an average of 2.5 weeks out of every month with RR hubs and previously stated 2 puppers
I am up to 13 novels on the market and casually scribbling away at the next 3
I have fallen irrevocably in love with Texas (sorry, Georgia)
It’s only July and it’s 112 degrees right now
I’m obsessed with Instagram, but still daily struggle bus with Millennial acronyms (BYOB is about all I’ve ever been solid on)

I’m back! Let’s do this! (Hopefully sans murderous mailmen this time around though, right?)

 

Cheers~

TRF

Hello all!

Wow, it’s been a while, hasn’t it? The 2015 year has been absolutely packed with several projects that I’ve been working on to get out to you all, thus why things have been so quiet on my end with the blog, the official site, and all the other fun stuff. While I wanted to get a novel out for you guys this year, my upcoming writings and musings have decided otherwise—but it’s all for good reason! I never want to make my awesome readers wait, but I really think you’re going to love all the awesomeness coming your way soon. And the good news is that pre-order for my next work, Macabre, will finally be available in January 2016 (less than a month away!) Since you have all been so patient as my imagination works away like a madman, I wanted to give everyone a preview of what’s coming up in 2016:

 

Macabre: This is the darkest work I’ve done to date and I couldn’t be prouder of the blood, sweat, and sleepless nights that have gone into this one. Whether you’re a horror fan or not, this adult genre work is full of something for everyone and the intensity level is off the charts. Who knew corpses, Versace, and spilled coffee could all have so much in common?

 

The Rowan Tree: For all the Ghost Story trilogy fans out there, this one has been in the making for quite a few years. It’s a completely new adventure and though it’s set around Kieran Bruce, all your favorite Ghost Story characters are back five years after we last left them. Between new life and new evils, another whole other chapter opens for Ordinary and Unordinary worlds alike.

 

The Fall of Gaia: Apocalyptic pieces in literature and media are everywhere right now, and while this work falls into the category of dystopian, it’s unlike anything you’ve seen. When every bit of text and proof of the world before is gone and all that remains is a place ruled by ruthless women who take on the roles of ancient Roman gladiators, I promise you’ll be more than entertained.

 

Thank you so much to all my readers for being so patient as I work to never give you anything less than the great that your imaginations deserve, and I hope that you’re just as excited as I am to lose yourself in these fresh new stories. I can’t wait for you to meet the likes of an eccentric funeral home director, a relentless, leather-clad warrior from thousands of years in the future, and a Benedict baby in 2016. ;-)

(C’mon now, y’all knew I couldn’t leave this post without a juicy cliffhanger now, did you?)

 

xo,

trf