When Life Requires too Much Time to Write
I meant to write this yesterday but got distracted
There were dishes to do again. There was (and still is) laundry that needs to be put away. We were running low on formula. I needed a respite from cramming in work on my personal projects every spare minute. The baby didn’t sleep well the night before, so I didn’t sleep well the night before.
So, like I said: I meant to write this yesterday but got distracted.
This morning was more of the same.
Baby woke up in a bad mood. So did co-parent. So did I. There was actual work to do when I got to work. I didn’t get home until after two o’clock, for Christ’s sake. It’s 10 minutes to four right now.
Woe is me. I know.
When I got home a little over an hour ago I intended to go immediately to my computer to work, but life — again — found a way.
Bring in the mail. Sort the mail. Tidy the cluttered areas from last night. Wash some bottles so I don’t have to after I pick up my kid from daycare. Get a snack because I’m frustrated and like to stress eat. Download that program first. Maybe run through the tutorial.
Of course I, eventually, despite my subconscious procrastination, pulled the not-actually-started draft and started, well, bitching about my terrible, horrible, no good, very bad situation.
And I realized… I’m kind of mad at myself.
I am. I’m frustrated with myself for not having made more time this week to work on what feels most fulfilling to me. Writing — or more specifically, working on my personal business — is integral to my mental health. So much that I start getting testy with myself.
And probably others.
There’s no quick resolution to this other than to say that life happens. Go easy on yourself when progress is slow. Progress is still progress.