I'm struggling today, because I really want to write, but the real life that I have, with the stacks of dishes, the broken vacuum the shattered budget and the piles of laundry, are insisting on attention. Like a siren song, the hum of my computer keeps pulling me back, so I'll sneak a few minutes to check e-mail, or peek at myspace, but I know that my satisfaction will only come with completing a household task.
It's so hard to get what I want to do and what I have to do to match up. I know that once I start folding boxer shorts and bath towels, that's where I'll want to be. It will feel good to get it done.
Until that siren song calls again.
Bo informed me yesterday that when you do a search on Google for Today Lessson or Today's Lessons, my blog comes up first. What a huge potential I have to touch and reach people, if I could just get my life in order, or slow it down a bit.
Yet, what would go if I decided to simplify? Piano lessons? Houseconcerts? Homeschool classes? Choir? Morning walks? Writing? Reading? Gardening? The stars? The sunsets? Teaching? Learning? Friendships?
I know what I wish would go away. Laundry piles. Dirty dishes. Dust. Procrastination. Arguments. Disappointments. Nasty surprises. Broken appliances. Bounced checks. Overdue bills. Illness. Depression. Fear. Death.
What a wonderful dream that would be.
So I can't eliminate either list. Still, in my naive way, I keep believing that it will get better someday. That it will slow down or imporve. Or that I will magically learn how to do it all.
Ha.
And this doesn't even take into account all of the things I want to do that aren't even in the time and money budget right now. Fiddle lessons, voice lessons, dulcimer lessons, travel, decorating, hiking, biking, boating, the beach, the mountains.
Or all of the things I've put on hold so I can do the other things. Knitting. Sewing. Bread baking. Guitar lessons. Teaching Sweetheart to knit. Attending births. Learning to draw and paint. Writing books. Photography. Medical care. Yoga. Attending concerts and museums and historic places. Being politically active.
A fellow writer sent me this quote the other day: "The idea of wanting to write but being unable to find the time would make absolutely no sense to someone who truly loves to write." It cut me to the quick. Why? Because it's wrong. It's a guilt motivator that doesn't motivate...it just makes me feel guilty. I do love to write. But I've chosen--CHOSEN--to put writing aside to care for my family. To put them first. It's been one of the biggest struggles in my life, aside from money. My children will grow and leave home. My experiences will only increase, so that my writing can only improve as I age. Stealing a moment here and there to write or to read excellent writing fills me with guilt, like I"m indulging in a secret sin. I feel selfish and full and whole when I write, when I've completed writing. I feel lost and disjointed and worthless when I don't write. I don't choose that route because I don't love writing. I choose that route because I love my family.
The laundry is still there, waiting for me and me alone. And no amount of writing-love will make it disappear.
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