blogger profile

Rhi Bowman

Student/ Writer

Rhi (pronounced Ree) B. is short for Rhiannon Bowman. Rhi B. is me. I’m a young woman– a newly wed, mother of two spoiled rotten cats and student– working hard to get out of college and on with the business of freelance writing. Trading money for words is a lifelong dream. After allowing...

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Awaiting the big whew

~ and the big lesson

Summer semester kicked my ass, though I escaped with two As and two Bs and some how managed to write a crap load of stuff (some good, some not so good, some way off--  yack). A large percentage was even published. (Woot.)

The week before last, I took two final exams and wrote and submitted four articles after weeks researching and interviewing. I hit “send” on the fourth article and, before I could finish putting on my face, my parents arrived after an 8-hour trip from Alablamastan for a weekend visit. (No kidding.) They left the following Sunday and so did we, for a tour of the Midwest and many more hours of family time.

While in Yankee land, I actually got quite sick. I’m not sure if it is because I accidentally snorted a pretty flower up my nose (I do take time to smell the roses) during a potty break at the Illinois state line or if it’s because I have totally worn myself out (I’m guessing the second option), but my body demanded a full stop. (And, it was beautiful!)

For one day I rested. I read a book-- a whole one-- and an entire issue of O Magazine (which I love but rarely have time to even begin). I watched the Olympics, lounged on the couch and took a nap.

Then it was back to work: I cooked a season’s worth of meals for the in-laws’ freezer and offered Mr. Wonderful hearty back pats during his breaks (he was preparing their house for winter).

Monday, the day after our return and my first day of classes, I came home and fell into a near coma which good since Mr. Wonderful and I have been on the run since our return this past Sunday. Fall semester classes began Monday, we’re back in the gym (which means we’re getting up at the butt-crack of dawn), he and I spent Tuesday at the hospital for “testing” (men are real babies, you know it?).

I’m racing to catch up, only slightly freaked out that I’m in an assignment lull (amazing lesson for a freelance writer-- you must drum up business to have business) and in demand: tomorrow I’m helping a friend move (why on a Thursday, I’ll never know), out to lunch with a friend in need of a good bitch session on Friday then off to babysit (a.k.a spoil) my goddaughter for the remainder of the day.

I thought, for sure, there would be a big slow down after the end of Summer semester. I was certain we would get some rest on the road (what was I thinking?). Instead, I’m still awaiting the big “whew.”

The big lesson: I must start creating "whew" moments for myself. I'm running on empty far to frequently and can't keep up the pace. I keep proclaiming that next week, month or year I'll find some space to truly care for myself. That plan isn’t working. So, this Labor Day I will celebrate by refusing to labor at all.