We’ve been on a self-imposed hiatus at 4Gaby. The need to write gets overwhelmed by life itself, and the daily grindings of the daily grind. In short, when you have children and are the numero uno in care taking, plus all the other responsibilities that come along with the parenting game, the part of you that makes you, you, tends to hit the back-burner. Often, it’s a self-inflicted wound. Putting others before us is what we, as women, mostly tend to do. The realization is that we don’t make the time necessary when we say, for this moment, for this hour, this is my time.
I can tell you that we’ve been asked why we write if it gains us no money, and no attention. I can’t speak for my wonderful co-authors, but I can tell you, you might as well ask me to stop breathing. This hiatus of sorts has me short of breath. I have done what so many of us women do, I have put myself last, and it serves no purpose but to make me less of myself. Work, which brings a paycheck, has no comparison to writing. My children’s hugs and their achievements fill my heart, but do not fulfill my soul. Some would call this admission selfish, and I admit, it is, and I counter with “What’s wrong with that?”
As a “Mom” and a wife, we give, short and simple. I have no problem with that, I signed up for it willingly and happily. My life is a blessed one, and I am grateful. I just have to learn to set aside the proverbial “me time.” Not the time spent with the girls, not the hours spent cleaning, taxiing, and adhering to everyone’s schedule but mine. I’ve sat in this saddle before where I’ve pondered how the heck to do it all. I guess I just have to try and follow the Nike slogan and “just do it.” On the other hand, guilt follows when I say “I need.” What the heck is wrong with me?
My girlfriends will tell you, oh yeah they will, that it’s a delicate balance and it’s so easy to teeter on the high wire, holding fast to maintain equilibrium. How can I be the best me to my family and friends if I don’t feed what is at the core of me? I don’t delude myself that I am the next Nora Ephron or any well paid, well known writer. I just KNOW that to create is as important to me as breathing, and without it, I am less than. Capisce?
I’m better at story-telling than expressing my opinions. I don’t mean to sound preachy or contrived, but it bothers me that I often set the pattern in motion of making time, only to have that time dropped off the list when others need. What do you do? Seriously. What’s your thing? Is it writing, singing, exercising, running, biking? Do you make time for it and stick to it, or do you acquiesce, and let “other” things prevail?
Trying to make the time.