When you become a parent, things change more than I think most of us are willing to own up to. At least, that's how it's gone for me over the past 15 months. Type-A personality, Control Freak, Insanely Impatient you name it--that's me. I'm a crammer. Have been ever since I can remember, but it's only gotten worse as I've grown older. Work the Day Job, keep a tidy house, ensure the family has clean clothes, spend time with Little Man, see to the health and well-being of the aforementioned.
Oh, yeah. And in the midst of all that, I'm a writer. Writing is something I need, must do, cannot live without, will go crazy and wind up committed if I don't find some inkling of time to jot down a paragraph, a sentence, something! But even if you're not a writer, surely there's something you love, love, LOVE; something that's all yours and yours alone, and you want so badly to do it, if you don't, you're biting your nails, grinding your teeth, or eating double your weight in chocolate or carbs or both.
If you're a parent, hopefully you know where I'm coming from here.
It's not easy, is it? Am I alone? I don't think so. Problem is, life in general has changed--is changing daily, and there's nothing whatsoever I can do about it. Control Freak tendencies owned, thank you very much, which is something a Control Freak does not want to admit to anyone, let alone herself/himself.
Lately life's taken a firm hold on me like nobody's business. This is really hard to share with you guys, so please bear with me. I've been up, down, high, low, happy, sad; angry beyond comprehension one moment, crying the next. When my son was born, my doctor mentioned something to the tune of, "If you ever feel sad, come see me." And of course I thought, "Sad? What? I just had a beautiful, healthy baby boy and am married to the most amazing man on the planet. How could you possibly imagine me being anything but ridiculously happy?"
Then, as most of you know, my stepson Matthew died last September in a catastrophic car accident.
To say we were devastated... well. Really, there are no words.
Insert Type-A, Control Freak, Insanely Impatient right here, just before my name. I've worn those badges like a title all my life, and before you raise that eyebrow too high, be assured that I'm not proud of any of 'em. Not one iota. And within the past couple of weeks, I've noticed a severe change in my personality and physical qualities I'm really beginning not to like.
So changes have to happen. Of this, I am fully aware. Balance must come in and stay for a long, long visit. Spiritual, Emotional, and Physical well-being desperately need to arrive at a happy medium. Pacing is difficult for me, because I want everything not soon, but right now, and that's not reasonable. Not if I want to maintain sanity, which is saying a lot anyway when you're a writer.
But I digress.
Why am I telling you all this? Beats me. Maybe I just needed to get it down on paper/webpage/what do you call this thing? Vocalizing the problem makes it real, right? I downloaded an exercise app this morning, plugged in what I've ingested so far. Pulled up the current chapter of my WIP. Maybe I'll tackle cobwebs later on, maybe not.
All in all, it's time to reassess what I call "Real Life," and for everyone it's different.
What's it to you?
Thank you for reading my little blog/website.
All of you have been more of a blessing than you realize.
"Write hard and clear about what hurts." -- Ernest Hemingway