So anyway… I began this blog and year and a half ago with the intention of 1. having a regular writing practice that was readable by others, and 2. having a place to work out my thoughts through writing. Life happened and, well, I neglected to keep it up. I have a bunch of half-written drafts here, but that hardly counts.
I truly want to be a writer, but first and foremost I am a mom and a wife. And the demands on my time are relentless and never ending. As the parent who is home with the kids most of the time, most of their care defaults to me — something which I love and am grateful for the chance to do, don’t get me wrong, but it leaves me little time or energy for things that matter to only me. This fall I suddenly found myself in the throes of perimenopause — an irrefutable sign that time is swiftly passing me by — and realized for the millionth time that I am still not a writer. My kids are all in school for at least 3 hours a day, and yet I still have no time to write, because I don’t make the time. I got an adorable, secondhand, rolltop desk — something I have always dreamed of owning. I have yet to sit at it once, let alone write a word while seated there, because I don’t make time for it. I don’t prioritize writing like I should.
I’m starting to feel like this dream of mine is one that will never come to fruition. And that is the worst feeling. It’s do or die. Time to make the time. Time to stop wanting to be a writer and just BE. A. WRITER.
Stay tuned.Also, my formatting here sucks and I don’t know how to make it better. I’m trying. Be patient with me!