Is it fate, or is life predetermined?
In early 2018, a friend invited me to coffee. We weren’t lifelong friends, but acquaintances brought together through service on a nonprofit’s board of directors. We soon learned we had a few things in commons. We were adoptive moms. Our extended families hailed from Pennsylvania. We believed in improving the lives of kids in the foster care system.
Over coffee, Melanie asked, “How do you do this? What she meant was, “How do you live life when your spouse is a public figure?” Less than two months before we sat in the coffee shop, my husband was in the toughest political fight of his life. I’ll spare you the details, since it was 6 years ago, and the campaign was widely covered in our local paper.
What wasn’t written about was the life of the political spouse and family. By then, we’d been in politics for 18 years. A communications professional for most of my adult life, I’d crafted my 30-second elevator speech to answer that dreaded question: “How do you do this?”
I often felt tongue-tied, as if the dam would break if I even uttered one personal story of how hard it sometimes was to have a spouse who is a public figure. That’s when I’d worry. Would my admonition that life as a political spouse can be stressful make me appear weak? Would something I said wind up in a news story? Would my words hurt my husband’s political career?
I was raised to tell the truth, and while my stock answer was true, it wasn’t the whole truth. Melanie got the whole truth, and I left our coffee date with a burgeoning idea. It had never occurred to me to write a book about my life as a political spouse, but Melanie thought it was a good idea. So did my husband, and the few trusted friends I shared this lofty goal with.
To write is to be vulnerable, and opening yourself and your heart to share your stories invites others into your world. It’s a risk, but one I found worth taking. I’d always written for work, mostly marketing copy, grants, articles, and press releases. Never had I written about myself, my family, my life.
So often I asked, “Will anyone care? I wondered, “Is my story worth telling?”
I committed to publishing my book, a 3-year endeavor interrupted by a cancer diagnosis and ensuing treatment. Publication day was exciting, as I saw my book sit briefly at #1 in the Women’s Political Biography category on Amazon.
I never expected what came next. My readers, those who spent their hard-earned money to buy my book, then read it, and in some cases, even provide feedback were the unexpected bonuses that came with publishing my book about my status as a self-described Accidental First Lady.
I chose the title of my book, but in the almost two years since publishing, I’ve questioned the seemingly accidental moments in my life. I chose the word, “accidental” because I felt like I was one of the most unlikely people in my hometown to become a first lady. But it was no accident that saying yes to politics on a Sunday evening in 1999 propelled me into a life that lead me to eventually become an author.
That’s one example, but as I pondered the use of “accidental” and what it meant, I considered other poignant moments in my life and whether they truly are accidental, fate, or a serendipitous combination of both.
I hope you’ll enjoy reading, and I invite you to share the accidents that have impacted your life.
Why here, you ask?
I enjoy opening my email each day and finding a new post from Substack accounts I enjoy. I love the idea of writing space that isn’t driven by advertising or algorithms. I can appreciate that it is a space for diverse thoughts and ideas, a place to learn. While I remember the writing and publishing process well, and that it wasn’t always easy getting to the point where I held my own book in my hands, I know that writing again isn’t always an easy endeavor. We wonder if our writing can still be interesting, compelling, and desired. Still, I wonder, will someone want to read it? The best way to regain confidence while creating community is to embark on a regular writing practice. That looks different for all of us. For me, this is it. This is how I will spark passion in something I enjoyed, but truthfully, don’t practice enough. I hope you’ll join me on this adventure.
How often will you hear from me?
I haven’t created a schedule, but my goal is to land in your inbox at least once a week, maybe two or three times. My writing will vary in length, as I explore topics and genres. You might see a poem from me! I promise, however, it won’t be about me, all the time. I’m considering a month-long project for September. When that decision is made, I will notify you in advance to possibly expect daily posts. I’m still fleshing out this idea, and if I go forward, you’ll understand why.
Thank you.... you may inspire me. *edit> I do Not write a Substack column - yet. It was one of those 'fat finger' mistakes on the wrong page. I could / should have corrected it, but upon reflection the 'notion' that I would, somehow serves my peculiar sense of humor; So I've let it stand, unused. **edit again ; - ) > To your topic: At least one of a number of International Fellowships I belong to actively answers that with a resounding "No, there are no accidents in this life." As I grow older, I've come to frequently muse whether there are any 'unfortunate accidents' in this life. That muse fills me with some cognitive dissonance. On the one hand, one of the life skills I've adopted, for better or worse, is to confront misfortune and accidents from a mindset of "What does this have to teach me"? Doing thus, removes victimology from my attitude / mindset and sets me on a constructive approach / path. In contrast, questions linger vaguely; If this lesson was brought to me, by whom, and.. what sort of sense of humor does the 'bringer' possess. There's more to that dissonance, but this is 'your' space, and I'll yield.