Recently, I realized that I am going to die. No, I didn’t contract a terminal illness; I finally got out of denial. Not only did my 52^nd birthday alert me to the fact of my impending death, spending time in my parents’ retirement community drove the point home. I’ve watched as several of their neighbors have gone from sitting next to them in the dining room to having their pictures displayed on the piano in the lobby—which is how all the recently deceased are honored. Mom said, “What you don’t want is to walk by the piano and see your picture on it. Then you know you’re in trouble.” And I know someday her photo will be on that baby grand. Not far behind will be mine. Even with my preventive measures—working out and eating right, etc.—I, like all human beings, will go to that giant Disneyland in the sky. (You have your idea of Heaven, I have mine.)

This realization brought about a great disturbance in Janet’s Force. I finally realized I have very limited time left. That it was imperative to prioritize my choices so I could achieve the most important goals before my picture winds up on the piano.

Luckily, my greatest desire was super clear to me: writing the novels. My passion for the work is blinding and all-encompassing. I am obsessed with the stories in my head. My brain is like a cable TV system: tons of channels and all are full of programming. Writing them down is the feat. Even if I do nothing else—like eat or sleep or talk to people—I will not have enough time to write all the books in my head. Partly because there are so many stories, but mostly because it takes so freaking long to write a book.

Which brings me back to My Giant Realization. Not only did I come to the conclusion that I didn’t I have time to do everything on my plate, I didn’t have the time for many of the things I’d planned to do this lifetime. In fact, I had almost no time to do anything besides the books. I experienced a sort of death of dreams. I voiced all the things swirling around in the back of my mind that I thought I’d do, and one by one, gave them up. No time for learning the guitar and starting an all-girl punk band. No competitive racecar driving. No big cat rescue or zookeeper.

Actually, that was the easy part of my process. Since I hadn’t invested time in any of the activities, they weren’t very difficult to give up. The hard part was quitting current activities. Especially the Good Do-Bee volunteer work. Really pushed me up against the ideas society gave me regarding my self worth.

As a woman of a certain age (I bloody hated writing that sentence), I was not trained to care about myself. I was brainwashed into thinking that doing things for others was, in actuality, doing things for myself. I was trained to think that if I focused on my own needs, I was selfish and not a “good girl.” I was taught that good girls had no needs. Which is stupid and why many women my age are bat-crap crazy. Because our basic human right to live our own lives was taken from us.

While I still enjoy helping others and won’t give up all volunteering, I don’t want my obituary to read: “She was a self-sacrificing person who rarely did anything for herself.” I want the headline: “Famous Author Dies In Own Home After a Long and Fruitful Life.” I am the only one who can write my books. What if Jane Austen, Nora Roberts and J.K. Rowling had never written their books? No Mr. Darcy, Rourke and Eve, or Harry Potter. While I doubt my work will achieve that level of recognition, if I put all my energy into my career now, I’ll have a much better chance for success. When I was freaking out about the decision to self-publish, worried I might fail, a friend asked me, “Have you heard of Doris Masterson?” “No.” “Neither has anyone else because she never put her books on the market.” Probably because Doris was busy being a good girl.

After realizing the Good Girl Trap was part of my problem, I examined and judged each activity by asking myself two questions. Does this further my writing career and personal goals? Or am I doing this to be a good girl? Some activities, while on the outside appeared to be Good Girl motivated, actually turned out to be things I enjoyed. Like hosting the family Christmas party.

But other endeavors revealed themselves to be part of my old pattern. Like the MC gig at the Pescadero Arts and Fun Festival. When I started eighteen years ago, it really fed me. I loved being on stage and helping the kids of Pescadero. But it was a really exhausting job. People assumed I breezed up on stage, spouted a few jokes off the top of my head, and waltzed off to party. Not. Preparation and recovery took one to two weeks. In recent years, I performed because I was needed, not because I wanted to be there. So I quit. While the decision was no fun, I felt no regrets. I felt free.

After that, my decisions came easier. So far I’ve quit three major jobs—writing gigs and volunteer positions—and I’m still not done cleaning house.

I can’t tell you how happy these changes are making me. While I have no idea if I’ll reach all my career goals, there are two things of which I am certain. By the time my picture is on that piano, I’ll have many more books on the market. And more importantly, I will have lived the life I chose for myself, not the one that was chosen for me.

©2011, Janet Periat

My sister moved out of my house this week and my parents went into a retirement home. I cannot grasp the enormity of these events. All I know is that I’m bloody tired.

I took care of my parents for the past twenty years. In late May my sister arrived on my doorstep. “I have a brain tumor.” June 10 she endured eight hours of surgery. June 11 she had a stroke, rendering her unable to speak or move. When she left the hospital and arrived at my house on July 4, she could feed herself but couldn’t brush her teeth or walk. She is now dancing. Literally. Not only that, she is cooking for herself, cleaning her house and caring for her cats and yard. Her speech is lagging some, she has a long road in front of her, but in the end she will be healthy. She’s made a miraculous recovery.

For me, they were the shortest, most intense and worst months of my life to date. Hell one minute. Hope the next. A rollercoaster ride neither my sister nor I want to repeat.

In addition to that atom bomb of health drama, my parents finally realized that being blind and confused without the ability to drive while living out in the middle of nowhere was putting a bit of a damper on their lives. Especially given their best two helpers were out of commission. So they moved in a retirement home in Santa Cruz with their best friends.

Suddenly, all the people I was trying to keep alive are now doing fine without me. Which has left me with a few big questions. Where do I go from here? What are the lessons I learned?

Number One: Worrying Is Stupid. We all know this, but most of us still spend countless units of our personal energy fretting over stupid crap. What has twenty years of worrying about my parents done for me? Earned me some gray hairs and many sleepless nights. Did it help take care of them? Did it help take care of me? No and no. All it did was make me drink more than I should and give me a stomachache. So I’ve decided to fire the Worrier in my head… Or at least give it a good try.

Number Two: Vacations and Breaks From Routine Are Imperative To Good Mental Health. Even in the midst of crises. Three weeks after Judy arrived at my house from the hospital, I was completely crazy. Thankfully, I had a Romance Writer’s of America Conference in San Francisco. The day I packed and left was one of the most insane days at the house. My parents, sister-in-law, niece, sister and caregiver all were having lunch in my kitchen, Judy’s occupational therapist dropped by with her supervisor and I was running around trying to remember what the hell I needed to pack while people bombarded me with questions and demands. By the time I got in the car, I was genuinely concerned for my mental safety. I prayed the hotel didn’t have any issues with my reservation because I’d go nuclear (reservation was fine). After I got into my hotel room, I bought a nine-dollar beer from the mini-bar (probably the best nine bucks I ever spent). Ten minutes after that, surrounded by silence, I finally realized that I was alone. No one was asking me for anything. I started to relax. By the next morning, I felt myself center. I was finally me again. By the time I returned to the house, all the problems that seemed insurmountable were reduced to minor distractions. I had no idea how therapeutic a few days away would be. I was able to handle the rest of Judy’s stay with my head on straight.

Downtime is not a luxury, it is a necessity. And this applies to normal life, not just crises. Without rest and a break from the craziness of life, not only do you end up working too hard for too little results, most of your energy goes to mood control because you’re too tired to distance yourself from problems. Which brings me to Number Three, which is really a part of Two, but it was going on too long…

Number Three: Be Aware Of The Current Work Ethic. Distance yourself from the herd mentality and make sacrifices to get the downtime you need. Or the next downtime you get may be six feet underground. Our current culture is driving everyone into producing more than is humanly possible. Job burnout is at an all-time high. The falling dollar, recession, pressure from Wall Street to earn unreasonable and unsustainable profits is pushing business owners and their employees. For some reason it’s become a badge of honor to work eighty hours a week without vacations. People who get caught up in this dangerous game (including my sister—who was headed for a stroke even without the brain tumor) not only sacrifice their health, they sacrifice their relationships with others. If all your energy is going to your work, it’s not going to your friends and family. And these are the only people who care about you. If you get sick from overwork, is your boss or a customer of yours gonna come by the house and take care of you? No. Take care of yourself, friends and family first, then think about your work. If that’s not possible, get a new job or downsize your business. There are plenty of solutions out there if you have the courage to look.

I will leave you with this last piece of invaluable wisdom from a fortune cookie. The secret to happiness is to count your blessings while others add up their troubles.

There, now I feel better.

©2008, Janet Periat