I read my own interview twice.
The first time, I felt heard. There, on the page, was a chance to explain what I’ve spent the past few years working toward. The writing. The books. The business. The ideas I’ve kept developing, sometimes in the middle of a life that already had plenty going on. It felt good to have room to talk about those things. To share what matters to me and what I’m trying to create.
Then I read it again. And that time, I had a slightly different response. Holy shit, girl. Look at what you’ve accomplished. Apparently, I needed to read an interview about my own life to appreciate how much I’d been doing in it. Very efficient of me. I often feel like I’m steps behind. There’s always something I want to finish, something I want to improve, or an idea I’m excited to get moving. I can be proud of what I’m working on and still end the day wishing I’d gotten further.
I don’t keep score. I don’t have a grand checklist of accomplishments that I pull out whenever I need encouragement. I just keep going. Finish something. Start something. Figure something out. Change direction. Keep pushing the needle forward. And somewhere in all that movement, I forget to stop and put it together.
My usual conversation with myself is less “atta girl” and more: “Girl, you need more hours in a day to get shit done.” Which is quite the performance review to give someone who is already working for you around the clock. Reading that interview brought years of work into one place. Things that had happened
separately, across different days and different stages of my life, were suddenly sitting beside one another. I could see the amount I had built.
Born of Fire. My writing. My memoir. The Willow books. The work I’ve shared publicly
and the projects I’m still developing. And part of what made that moment possible was work that didn’t show up as a book, a business, or a published article.
The work I’ve been doing on my mental health. Therapy. Honest conversations. Recognizing patterns I’ve lived with for years. Learning to take my own needs seriously, even when guilt has plenty to say about it. That has been a huge part of these past few years, too. I don’t think I can write honestly about recognizing my successes without acknowledging what it has taken to be able to see them. I’m still working on it. I still have days when I feel behind, overwhelmed, or convinced I should be doing more.
But reading that interview a second time, I could give myself some credit. I could let the pride register. I’ve worked hard to build a creative life. I’ve also been working hard to take care of the woman living it. Both deserve an “atta girl.”I knew those accomplishments existed. Of course I did. I was there for the work. But
knowing each piece individually felt different from seeing them together. For a moment, I could read about myself with some of the interest and generosity I would
offer another woman. I could recognize her effort. I could appreciate that she had taken ideas seriously enough to do something with them. And then remember: that woman was me.
That second reading didn’t take away my ambition. I still had ideas afterward. Believe me, there is no shortage of material in that department.Creating work from things I love adds to my enjoyment. I like the process of making something, and I love the sense of accomplishment when an idea becomes real. A finished
chapter. A book I can hold. Words that finally say what I’ve been trying to express. I want to keep experiencing that.
But I’m beginning to see how quickly I move past the accomplishment and into whatever comes next. Sometimes I’ve barely acknowledged finishing before I’m mentally rearranging the rest of the day. When I look mostly at what still needs doing, I leave myself with an incomplete picture of my own life. The unfinished work gets my attention every day. The years of completed work deserve some attention too. So does the effort I’m putting into my mental health, including on days when there’s nothing new to publish or announce. I think about how easily I celebrate the people I love. I notice what they’ve put into something. I want them to know I see their effort, even when they’re already worrying about the next step. I’d like to offer myself a little more of that same recognition. I’m still figuring out what that looks like. I’m unlikely to pause for a formal awards ceremony every time I finish a paragraph. Although I do have outfits. For now, it might be as simple as letting myself enjoy something I’ve finished. Saying, “I’m proud of that,” without immediately adding everything I think I should have done by
now. That interview gave me a voice on the first reading. On the second, I could finally take in the work I’d done. My work on my mental health helped me make room for that recognition.
I’m glad I read it twice.
And if you spend most of your time thinking about what you haven’t gotten to yet, I wonder what you’d notice if you looked back at the past few years as a whole. What have you made, put into motion, or learned? What work have you done to take care of yourself that deserves recognition too?
Give yourself a minute with the answer. I’m giving myself one too.
Atta girl, Fab. You’ve done a hell of a lot.
xoxo-Fab