HOW TO HAVE & DO IT ALL! (JUST KIDDING, THAT’S IMPOSSIBLE)

You’d think I’d be an expert by now, but most of those moves happened before I turned 32. I’ve lived in the same place for 13 years—longer than I’ve ever called anywhere home.

Tonight, I’m sitting at my kitchen table in this house for one of the last times (at least for a good long while), looking out at a sliver of moon and listening to crickets sing their summer song. Between sautéing greens and checking the roast, my husband drops a bottle of wine and an opener next to me, like he has so many nights before as he cooks dinner and I write, paint, or pay bills.

“How are you holding up?”, my friends ask. In the past month, I’ve lost my last living grandparent, realized I needed to move my family almost 500 miles away (and do it ASAP), dealt with major changes in my business, and am handling some things I’m not ready to share yet.

So my response is some version of….. I don’t know how to answer that. The short version is, “I’m okay.” But that’s just a wisp of the real story. If I let myself dig into what’s happening in my heart and head, we’d be here all night.

I know people with more on their plate. I’ve been that person lying in a hospital bed or sitting in a waiting room, repeating a chant, a prayer, a mantra, a promise to make it out okay—or alone—and contemplating letting it all go.

I know people with less on their plate, too. I’ve been that person, closing my eyes on a roller coaster and feeling the wind rush over my face, or having a first kiss that makes me hungry for more, or watching my son build a Lego city and being overwhelmed by the fact that this human I love so much actually exists.

I’ve been down, up, and everywhere in between. One thing I know for sure is that wherever I am, I can only be there. It sounds obvious (and maybe a little dumb), but it’s true.

When I’m deep in moving mode, spending 12 hours a day lifting furniture and organizing, I’m a pretty crappy mom. Luckily, my parents step in and parent my son so well that I want to make them write a parenting book.

When I’m gathering fall leaves for a mixed media art project with my son, work emails go unanswered. But I can do that because I have an amazing team at Dear Handmade Life who has my back.

I can’t be an awesome business owner, attentive mom, engaged partner, and daughter all at the same time. You can have it all, but not all at once.

Anyone who’s tried to do it all knows this leads to burnout and exhaustion. The trick is being fully present in the role you’re in at the moment. That takes practice.

The other thing I’ve learned is that asking for help is a sign of strength, not weakness. Brené Brown says it best in Rising Strong: “We don’t have to do all of it alone. We were never meant to.”

During this rough patch, I’ve asked for—and received—so much help.

My family and friends stepped up in ways I didn’t expect. They unpacked boxes, entertained my son, painted accent walls perfectly, and even read the Ikea directions and put my cabinets together the right way (not the “Nicole way,” which is figuring it out as quickly as possible without reading the instructions). Without their generosity, this move wouldn’t have happened.

Asking for help doesn’t come naturally to me. I’m the type who’d rather struggle to carry cases of water than say yes when the grocery clerk offers to help. I’d rather someone think I’m unattractive than not self-sufficient. But when that guilt creeps in, I remind myself: “Asking for help is just as courageous and compassionate as offering it.”

I started this letter at my old kitchen table and finished it here at my new one, 462 miles away. Between then and now, I tried to finish this letter to you so many times, but I couldn’t. I kept pushing the send date for this email, and I considered skipping the pep talk altogether this month.

What I didn’t realize until now is that every time I sat down to write, I wasn’t really focused. I was still in moving mode, distracted by unfinished tasks. I needed to just focus on one thing instead of trying to be a writer and a mover at the same time.

Last night, I finally finished the last thing on my moving to-do list. Now, I’m here in writer mode. Later today, when I pick up my son, I’ll be in mom mode. The roles don’t go away—they just wait their turn.

If you’re in a rough patch right now, remember that it’s okay to not do it all at once and to ask for help—just like I did. Life isn’t about perfect balance; it’s about showing up fully in the moment, whether you’re unpacking boxes, writing at the kitchen table, or gathering leaves with your kid.

We can’t be everything to everyone all at once, and that’s okay. The roles will be there when it’s their time. And when you’re feeling overwhelmed, remember: you don’t have to carry it all alone. 

Like Brené says, “We don’t have to do it all alone”—and thank goodness for that.