In the fall of 2012 I was delightfully happy. Joy. That is what I felt. It was throughout my entire being. My cells even danced in my body. Despite this joy, writing was a struggle. It was my challenge to balance it with homelife. I found myself feeling guilty that I wanted my kids to be gone so I could work yet I saw myself as a homemaker. How could I want to be home with them yet wish them to be gone?
It seemed as though I had to choose. I chose my family, focused on homeschooling, and stopped writing. Every once in a while I would lift my head out of the sand and do a blog post or journal but my pen would go into the drawer and I would get back to business. Homelife business.
My thoughts of writing increased as I became pregnant. To me my little one was telling me to get to business even from the womb. Write. I did not. Not on any regular basis anyway. Not in anyway that seemed significant to me. Now she is here and the pressure to write is even stronger. Yet I hide and avoid the pen. What is up?
I think I have to deal with my choice-making back in 2012. I have to deal with why I choose to leave writing. One of my quests has been to balance work and home. With writing home life is better. I am a better mom. A better wife. A better person. Yet, it seems as though I really need to fight for my time to write and it became too much. Without it I am not my best. I also need to battle with myself to actually sit down. My thoughts allow me to do everything but write.
Food has become too much of a crutch. I am 20 lbs over weight. My whole body hurts. Foods bother me like they never have before. I am tired all the time. Never excited for life. Honestly, I think I am burning out. Much of what is going on right now is very similar to what I went through in 2010.
Now, I must write. The battle of my thoughts must begin. I need to plant new thoughts that will lead me to writing. I need to return to my life of awareness and mindfulness. I need to return to yoga, meditation, cooking … finding a family rhythm. I need to uncover and demyth all the stories I have told myself about writing. It isn’t a competion or a choice to be made. I can have both. I have to have writing.