Sometimes, life-altering moments don’t announce themselves with the cinematic swell of violins or the crackle of a thunderstorm. Sometimes, they tiptoe in while you’re elbows-deep scrubbing lake trout off a grill pan, dialing the phone with your wrist to avoid sullying it with lemon butter. That’s how it happened for me. I stood in the kitchen of my childhood home—the lodge’s “communal nook,” as my dad still calls it—half-listening to a voicemail my editor had forwarded. By the time the message was done, the trout was forgotten, the butter hardened, and my world secretly tilted a few degrees.

It wasn’t just a call. It was the call. The one that told me my first book—the deeply personal, often-overly-earnest collection of essays I wrote about growing up in the mountains—had reached a bestseller list I never thought I’d see beyond bookstore banners: New York Times. And as I sank onto one of our lodge’s ancient bar stools (yes, the ones that still squeal louder than a bad second date when you shift your weight), I realized that moment was about far more than the flashing achievement.

It was about timing, trust, and, funnily enough, the ways life’s big transitions mimic our trickiest relationships. Let me explain (because this isn’t just a shameless humblebrag about lists or lodge kitchen aesthetics).

Emotional Avalanche Warning: How Big News Changes Everything

What they don’t prepare you for when chasing your dreams—or pursuing any major personal goal, for that matter—is the emotional whiplash that accompanies actually achieving it. Frankly, the ensuing chaos felt a lot like my brief and ill-fated stint with a long-distance relationship during college.

Here’s a breakdown of that timeline (and bear with me, this gets relevant to all aspects of life, I promise): You close your eyes and decide to go for it—whether that means committing to write 70,000 words about mountain solitude or deciding, against all rational reason, that managing to date someone who lives 400 miles away isn’t entirely uphill. Momentum builds. Excitement buzzes. You tell yourself you’ll figure it out as you go, and you do… for a while.

Until… that first avalanche moment: doubt. Will this work? Do I deserve this? Why am I sitting here at three a.m. editing a story about pine-cone symbolism (true story) or driving five hours to Seattle when I have an exam on Monday?

When my editor first sent me the message about the bestseller acknowledgment, I felt a similar wave. Not pure elation—like the movies might have scripted—but a mix of holy-cow-this-is-terrifying, mixed with “am I really the type of writer people would validate in this way?” It was a lot like realizing that “good morning” texts lose their shine when you're also trying to collaborate on awkward Saturday Skype calls about unresolved cross-state arguments.

Knowing When to Stop, Celebrate, and Stay Grounded Through the Chaos

That call was a bigger moment than I'd expected—not because of the NYT milestone itself, though that was huge for me—but because it forced me to dig deeply into how I approach fulfillment, effort, and staying anchored. How often do we rush headlong into something—relationships, goals, family dynamics—without pausing to process what it truly means?

Here’s what that call taught me about staying supported and grounded when big moments come for you:

  1. Pause and Soak It In the Way You’d Admire Tahoe Sunset
    Big milestones are oddly easy to gloss over with mental checklists about what’s next. But trust me: pause. Sit in the moment. Whether your victory was small (you finally texted back that crush) or big (you finished a grueling project)—pretend the moment is as worthy of pause-worthy awe as the pink-lavender lake mirrors of Tahoe’s famous alpenglow. You owe the acknowledgment to yourself.

  2. Celebrate with Your People.
    The irony of “call moments” is how strange they feel alone. After hearing my book news, the first thing I did (post-sitting stunned for five minutes) was walk outside to meet my dad by the workshop. He was building shelving for a storage room, eyes narrow under his work cap, when I blurted out the news like a teenager who aced an overdue driving test. He grinned, muttered an earnest congratulations (dad-style conciseness), and then poured us a pairing of two beers he barely tolerates drinking, just to toast me for five minutes. Find those people. Crawl out of your metaphorical or physical workspace and celebrate with someone who's rooting for you—no matter how oddly, like my dad did.

  3. Don’t Overplan Next Steps Immediately. Our brains trick us into thinking success should cue hustling, striving, and “springboarding” to even-bigger-things. Take a beat. The key for me—and I suspect for anyone facing milestone transitions—is realizing that the next project or relationship or challenge deserves eventual focus, yes, but sustainable energy blooms when we don’t bulldoze every immediate "to-do" right after hitting old goals. Find little enjoyments along your now-upgraded path instead of loading your backpack with new expectations outright.

Why Your Milestones Are Like First Date Chemistry Tests

Here’s the funny overlap I wasn’t expecting: Pursuing dream opportunities parallels our best (and hardest) attempts at human connection. Both need balance; both hinge on persistence, vulnerability, and knowing when to step away momentarily for perspective when things overwhelm. And both depend immensely on how you internalize success or rejection.

Before that call, I’d spent years writing largely unnoticed articles for small magazines, stacking rejection slips while perfecting my tahdig-making skills (yes, Persian-style crispy rice became my weird anti-rejection therapy). Much like the awkward first dates where sparks feel forced or nonexistent, I had questioned, often, whether the effort was edging toward futility. That call didn’t erase the self-doubting earlier spans, just as magical romantic chemistry doesn’t erase our own self-worth questions. But it reframed how I navigated the efforts themselves: more patiently, less painfully competitive with the unknown.

Closing Thoughts: What’s Your Personal Best-Call Opportunity?

Years later, folks occasionally ask if that bestselling moment truly solidified something career-defining within me—and I truthfully still say no. Sure, it confirmed the unpredictable pathways expression and effort might zigzag towards eventually. It was a satisfying cherry atop years of “meh” pies. But my biggest milestone takeaway wasn’t around external validation. It was learning shameless acceptance: of myself, lingering uncertainty, and the slow timing that doesn’t bend to microwaved results.

Whether you're waiting on milestone calls (literal or symbolic) in your own life— about jobs, dating leaps, partnerships, or sheer self-growth—I hope this invites patience. Your emotional alpenglow might not announce itself during a picture-perfect Hallmark crescendo moment like mine didn’t quite align, but I promise? Steep gratitude’s just around every corner. 🏔