Priorities
I like to surround myself with people that are focused, hard-working, and, often, pursing their dreams. It's wonderful to love people who love themselves and never give up on their passion. I want to be that person. I want to sit down, write a five year plan and stick to it.
In all other areas of my life I'm organized, in control, creative and hard-working, but when I try and determine how to make the things I want in my life to appear I draw a blank. It's not like I can't see the future, I can, but too often I see the roadblocks and.... I don't give up, but put the dreams I have aside until the crisis passes and then I'm back at square one, still puttering around at Stage One of my Five Year Plan.
It's been ten.
I've read books, articles, meditated on it, talked it over with my therapist, sought out advice from loved ones and I'm still hitting a ceiling of my own making. Spiritually, I'm aces. I have put the necessary time and energy into healing my soul and I'm on solid ground. As a parent I feel secure. As a partner I know I'm rocking socks because my husband tells me how much better I make his life. My friends are happy and feel supported. All of the interpersonal connections I wanted to achieve this time last year are met and flourishing. I refuse to believe I'm just not going to be any more than this version of me. The last year has taught me how much better I can be with time and focus, so surely I can embrace my own creativity and produce. Something, anything.
Now I'm staring at this empty space where "What do I want to do with my life" should have been filled in twenty years ago and I'm actually running out of time to procrastinate. Nora starts school next year and no longer will "I'm a stay-at-home mom" fulfill the "What do you do?" question with any sort of respectability. People will expect more. I will expect more.
The easy answer would be get a part-time job, but I would rather chew nails. Remember how I said my soul was happy? Yeah, that would quickly be replaced with extra therapy and tears because a part-time job isn't the answer. Money would be nice, but it's not the goal. I've put years and years and years into other people and I'd like a couple hours a day to spend on making me all the way happy.
This is part of it. The most prevalent advice given to writer is "Write Every Day." Sit down, carve out that time, make it a priority. So, here I am. Taking my baby steps, building habits, in the hopes that by next year I can create a life where it's the norm for me to write and my family functions without me without it feeling like I'm deserting them, or adding a burden to my husband. It'll be just another part of my personality.
Wife. Mother. Friend. Family member.
Writer.
In all other areas of my life I'm organized, in control, creative and hard-working, but when I try and determine how to make the things I want in my life to appear I draw a blank. It's not like I can't see the future, I can, but too often I see the roadblocks and.... I don't give up, but put the dreams I have aside until the crisis passes and then I'm back at square one, still puttering around at Stage One of my Five Year Plan.
It's been ten.
I've read books, articles, meditated on it, talked it over with my therapist, sought out advice from loved ones and I'm still hitting a ceiling of my own making. Spiritually, I'm aces. I have put the necessary time and energy into healing my soul and I'm on solid ground. As a parent I feel secure. As a partner I know I'm rocking socks because my husband tells me how much better I make his life. My friends are happy and feel supported. All of the interpersonal connections I wanted to achieve this time last year are met and flourishing. I refuse to believe I'm just not going to be any more than this version of me. The last year has taught me how much better I can be with time and focus, so surely I can embrace my own creativity and produce. Something, anything.
Now I'm staring at this empty space where "What do I want to do with my life" should have been filled in twenty years ago and I'm actually running out of time to procrastinate. Nora starts school next year and no longer will "I'm a stay-at-home mom" fulfill the "What do you do?" question with any sort of respectability. People will expect more. I will expect more.
The easy answer would be get a part-time job, but I would rather chew nails. Remember how I said my soul was happy? Yeah, that would quickly be replaced with extra therapy and tears because a part-time job isn't the answer. Money would be nice, but it's not the goal. I've put years and years and years into other people and I'd like a couple hours a day to spend on making me all the way happy.
This is part of it. The most prevalent advice given to writer is "Write Every Day." Sit down, carve out that time, make it a priority. So, here I am. Taking my baby steps, building habits, in the hopes that by next year I can create a life where it's the norm for me to write and my family functions without me without it feeling like I'm deserting them, or adding a burden to my husband. It'll be just another part of my personality.
Wife. Mother. Friend. Family member.
Writer.
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