 Most of the time, I can cheerfully see all of my many, many blessings. I have lots of love and laughter surrounding me, and I’m lucky to be able to successfully (so far) freelance for a living.
I am very grateful for the peace and serenity that finally permeates my life after what seemed like an eon of turmoil. In fact, I spent so many years in perpetual chaos, adversely affected by certain others’ actions, that I have purposely and frequently sought out solitude during the past year. What I’m saying is — I am alone a lot, by choice. Over the holiday weekend, my self-imposed alone time turned into full-on loneliness, so I decided I wanted to get out of the house.
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 My only son, Ethan Blake Higgs, will celebrate a milestone birthday this week, on May 22, and I’m having some conflicting feelings about it.
Eighteen. My oh my, how time has flown. I can still remember our first day home from Baptist East Hospital in 1995, and how terrified I was that I would break him. I didn’t. In fact, I am thrilled to say I have successfully kept another human being alive and in one piece all the way from birth to adulthood. Other parents reading this know that sometimes, simply keeping our kids safe from physical harm is the best we can do.  I’ve had a snarled ball of anxiety in my chest since last Wednesday. It’s rare that I get tied up in knots over anything these days. I’m more laid back than I’ve ever been in my whole life, which makes the issue that’s got me going nutty even more exasperating. It’s been effing with my serenity in a major way, and frankly, this will not stand, man.
What has got me all out of sorts, you ask? Well, the bane of my existence is a mandated, and very untimely, modification in my technological capabilities. In other words, I am being forced to change my e-mail address.  UofL champs with Ferdinand's Ball founders Something that’s really astonished me about my new freelance gig is the amount of interest I’ve had in my PR and media relations services.
See, when I first envisioned going out on my own, I assumed that my only marketable skill — y’know, the one that would make money — was my writing. I mean, hello? I am a trained print journalist, so this seems like a pretty natural conclusion, right? Yeah, I pictured myself in my home office, dressed in yoga pants and a ponytail, tippy-tapping away on my MacBook Pro keyboard, completing assignments for corporate marketing departments, advertising and web agencies, industry blogs and local publications. |
About Amy HiggsA former newspaper columnist, Amy takes her random, slice-of-life stories to the web. After 12 years, she's still just saying. Archives
September 2020
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