I recently joined a writing accountability team for which I’ve committed to writing and submitting for publication two articles per month. I also landed a freelance gig for a national publication through a friend of mine. This is on top of all of the other obligations I have for the MFA program, my blogging gigs, and my day job. Did I mention I’m also a mom?
I have other plans too, ones that I’ve either had to put on the back burner or delegate to somebody else. While I’ve learned to loosen my grip over the past couple of weeks, I sometimes still have difficulty allowing myself to slow down and take my time. I’m overwhelmed by the things I want to do and this sense of urgency that everything needs to be accomplished now.
Sometimes I have to take a step back and really ask myself what the fuck I’m thinking to keep myself so obnoxiously busy. While I’ve managed to meet all of my deadlines without much strain or half-assing so far, life would be a hell of a lot easier if I scaled back down to just my job. I’d certainly be less stressed at times, but I don’t think I would be happy.
Spending time with my family and knowing I’m being a present parent makes me happy. And the best argument for parlaying this writing thing into a full-time career is that it enables me to spend more time with my kid. In that way, much of this is stress I can live with because it doesn’t take me away from my family or compound any guilt I have about not being around for Hugga. I’m not chasing my goals at the expense of more important things like my family and true happiness. But I could certainly stand to be less harried, to not chase all these things because I’m putting an unhealthy amount of pressure on myself but to go after my goals at a comfortable pace.
My shrink asked me other loaded questions a few weeks ago. What’s the bottom line on a day-to-day basis? What’s my purpose? Is all of this helping me to achieve that?
The bottom line is that I want to be happy. Does the act of writing make me happy? Not always. Sometimes while I’m writing, I truly hate it. But it helps me to make sense of things and makes me feel like I’m doing something meaningful with my time, like I’m leaving a legacy — a pressure I don’t want Hugga to have to shoulder, and that makes me happy.
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