The Day I Dropped the Ball—and Found Myself

My friends often tell me I’ve done enough and been through enough for several lifetimes, and I suppose they’re right. 

One season of my life was as a single mother with a three-year-old and a seven-year-old. My most vivid memory from this season is coming home from the market after an exhausting day at work. I had just picked up the kids from after-school care, and despite being worn out, I still had to go grocery shopping.

The adventure was not without its moments. I had to juggle the kids and their questions, pleas for junk food, and updates on their day, all while keeping track of the items I needed for the rest of the week.

I had this trick—my seven-year-old son was in charge of the list, and my three-year-old daughter could grab items as directed. To pretend this was orderly at all… well, it wasn’t. But it got us through the ordeal and back into the car.

When we arrived home, we pulled into the condo’s parking garage. For safety reasons, I carried my daughter in my left arm, where several bags were already slung. I ensured my son held onto my belt loop so he wouldn’t dash off. I’m sure that was quite a sight, me limping along with a ton of bags and two kids.

This was a typical day of motherhood for me, even after I remarried. I wanted to share this so you’d know I’ve been there—in the trenches, struggling under the weight of society’s expectations and my own.

This isn’t the part where I tell you how I figured it all out. I didn’t. That was decades ago, and honestly, I didn’t even know who I was as a young mother of two. I had spent my entire life focused on caretaking. It would take two abusive marriages and some fifteen more years to even get on the road to self-discovery. But that’s another story.

Instead, let’s talk about the day I dropped the ball. It wasn’t that long ago. You see, I have Driven Woman Syndrome too. Sure, I wrote a master’s thesis and a book about it. But that doesn’t mean there’s a cure. There isn’t. That would be like saying there’s a cure for society or our inner critic. And we all know there just isn’t. Neither is going away anytime soon.

On this particular day, I had been showing up on social media, had just self-published my book, and was juggling my day job while running my thriving coaching business. Oh, and I had plans to start a nonprofit with a friend. We planned a trip to Paris, intending to stay there for a month, working, planning, and exploring. But that’s not what happened at all.

As we boarded the train back to our rented flat on day six, both of my ankles rebelled against the constant walking in leather combat boots and made it clear that I was done adventuring around Paris. 

I told my friend I needed a couple of days of rest. But the flat we rented was a mess. Instead of resting, I spent the first day cleaning and organizing to prepare for those two days of rest. Does this resonate with any of you? Not simply resting, but spending the time preparing to take the much-needed rest instead? Like it’s some sort of mandatory project? Yep. That was me. I just knew I couldn’t sit in a mess or not have meals or ibuprofen. So on day two of my resting, I walked to the store and stocked up!

On the morning of day three of resting and day nine of my 30-day trip to Paris, I admitted to myself I wasn’t going to get better. In fact, my ankles were worse, and I wasn’t going to be able to lie on that couch and be okay with missing out on so many things. So I booked my flight home and told my friend I was leaving.

When I arrived home, I figured a week or so of actual rest would do the trick. It didn’t. Instead, I found myself unable to walk much at all. Both of my ankles were incredibly swollen. By this time, I had seen two doctors virtually and done all the standard things like ice and anti-inflammatories, but it was time to see a specialist. 

Sad, true story: he wasn’t helpful at all. He told me it was a matter of changing my shoes and insisted that had I done so in Paris, I would have been able to stay. Of course, I did as instructed and purchased the special $160 shoes he recommended. But it didn’t help much. It would be many months before I felt anything near normal again.

In those weeks on the couch, though, a funny thing happened: I was still. Since I couldn’t go much of anywhere, I was simply still. I didn’t have much to say on social media; I had simply lost my interest in it. Oh, sure, I posted a few pics from those days in Paris and one of my swollen ankles in front of the TV, and then—nothing.

Here’s the thing: I have been practicing ‘allowing’ myself to feel whatever may come for years. I’ve been practicing listening to my higher voice, quieting my critic, and being more ‘unshakable.’ That helped, I think. But for over a year, I had been doing the juggling act, inviting more projects and distractions into the fray in order not to have to examine any one thing too closely. And now here I was on the couch, forced to do exactly that.

It took just two days to recognize that I didn’t want to start a non-profit, do the podcast, or post on social media anymore. I also had to admit that I needed a break from private coaching.

Let me tell you: for me, this was a huge dropping of the ball. I had made promises to my friend and to myself, had established a bank account, and even taken a few donations. I had completed recordings of the podcast that still needed editing. I had two private clients at the time and what I thought was an audience waiting for my next post. To let these things go felt impossible. I knew I would feel like a failure. I worried that perhaps I was utterly lost with no direction in sight.

But I did the thing I had learned to do: I held my hands to my heart and asked my spirit, “What do you not want?” Funny question, that. It’s so much easier to answer. And so out it all came—a list of most of what I had been doing.

I knew if I didn’t take immediate action, I’d never be able to let go of all those lovely irons in the fire. But one by one, I let them go.

I started a new hobby during that time because, of course, my hands couldn’t be absolutely still. Digital planning became my little passion and helped me feel creative. I did other things I had put off, too, and I enjoyed having my evenings back. I let myself do that for months. My income dropped. My enthusiasm dropped, and I definitely felt more than a little lost. But every time I thought about posting on social media or trying to do some business planning, my body would immediately respond. I’ve learned how to pay attention to those responses, so I listened. And I waited.

Briefly, I’ll say that waiting was painful. Oh, I kept busy. I still have a day job and plenty of other things to do. And it felt irresponsible not to force myself to ‘push through’ and do the next thing because, of course, I have a list of next things. I’ve never met a driven woman who didn’t have a list of next things.

By the time my birthday came around, I thought, “Okay! It’s time to feel inspired!” But I didn’t. So I enjoyed the evening out, and I waited some more. Then, one day soon after, I felt like being artistic. So I bought some watercolor markers and blank drawing books. I spent some evenings ‘painting’ little flowers and, one day, a bird. Then, a few days later, I felt like journaling about how brave it is to let go. For some of us, it feels like laziness—or worse, betrayal. But I’ve learned that it’s brave for women like us because it actually means letting go of control.

It was just a few days later that I had a book outline and a few more when I felt like it was time to get into my mentors again. You know, the podcasts and books we keep with all the good tips? So out came Marie, and Mel, and then Liz. Sometimes, the fact that I still listen to and read the words of these forces of nature surprises people. 

“But you’re a coach!”

Uh, yeah. Sisterhood, baby. We all need it. And these women are part of my sisterhood. I swam in their wisdom a bit, and someone mentioned Substack. And so, here I am, writing to you just after finishing my book’s introduction.

If you’ve made it this far, you’ve probably realized that no magic pill was offered—no bullet list of practical tips here. And that’s because you can only do one thing when you drop the ball: sit down and listen to her in stillness. Ask her, “What don’t you want?” And the rest will flow as it should. One day at a time.

Love and light to you, dear sister. 

Charlie