Wasted Time
Motherhood and personal success aren’t mutually exclusive.
That, I fully believe.
That is not to say, however, that pursuing your passion while balancing being a mom and wife is going to be easy. As I am quickly discovering, it’s quite the opposite.
Writing is my passion. Creating something out of nothing, streaming words together in such a way that it makes people laugh, cry, and think- that is what makes me giddy. That is what drives me to keep writing.
Between diaper changes, tantrum diffusing, and attempting to keep my cool even after being screamed at by my kids for the umpteenth time in a day, it is near impossible to find time to write. That’s why I save my writing for nighttime, when the house is quiet and I can sit uninterrupted and be productive.
Tonight, while we got the kids ready for bed, I ran through my head the tasks I had hoped to accomplish. The list wasn’t long, in fact, it was much more manageable than the usual impossible-to-accomplish-in-a-day list I put upon myself. I was excited to get started on these tasks that I felt would continue to help me pursue my writing career.
So, the second their door clicked shut, I set to work. I signed contracts that needed to be signed. I returned emails. I researched information for an article. I checked up on our budget to make sure we’re on track, scheduled payments that needed to be paid.
Yet, nothing worked in my favor. I had to turn down a writing opportunity that I was very excited about because they simply don’t pay enough. I barely have time to write for fun, let alone for work, and if I’m going to be working, I have to get paid competitively. So, there went about an hour of my night that I had spent reviewing the contract and researching information about copyright.
Then, I began research for an article (that actually does pay me what I’m worth). I couldn’t find a lick of information, even though I know it’s out there. After going around and around in circles for at least 45 minutes, I decided to come back to it tomorrow. I searched for other articles to write, and couldn’t find a single topic that I could write on. More time wasted.
I didn’t get a post written for a training session I’m in the midst of; a job that would pay me quite handsomely, and one that I would rock balls at. Thankfully, it isn’t due yet, but I wanted to accomplish my self-imposed deadline.
I wanted to write a sweet, uplifting, funny, picture-filled blog here, and instead, I’m whining about my wanna-be productive night.
What my frustration comes down to is this:
I have about three hours in a given day to write, and that’s assuming I’m ignoring my husband the whole evening. When those three hours are filled with wasted energy, job opportunities that fall flat, and research that doesn’t go anywhere, it’s frustrating to me. I hate wasting time because I have so little of it. My time would’ve been better spent snuggling on the couch with my man, than continually running into dead-ends.
It’s those wasted days that I wonder why I do this to myself.
At the BlogHer conference this past weekend, I experienced the strangest emotions I have ever felt. One minute, I was cocky, “I can totally make a name for myself and make a career of writing because I’m awesome” and the next “Wow, I’m one fish in an enormous sea of writers. I should just give up now.” It has messed with my head more than a little bit.
What I do know is this:
- Writing is as essential to me as breathing.
- Inspiring and entertaining others is the main goal of almost anything I write.
- I should make money writing, because doggone it, I’m talented.
There’s no way I’m going to stop doing what I’m doing. Sometimes, though, it gets frustrating. It’s frustrating to know what you could do and who you could reach with your writing, but not have a thousand hours a day to spend promoting on Twitter, Facebook, and the like. I love writing, but I won’t ignore my kids to promote it. (Okay, maybe I’ll ignore them sometimes. I’m not perfect.) It’s infuriating to be offered pennies for your work, when you had to pour a lot of energy into it.
Most of all, it stinks to know that I could be incredibly successful and bringing in a decent income, if I had more hours in the day.
I think I need a clone.
The truth is, I can see where I’m going and I know I will get there. I am fully aware that if I can do the things I’m doing now, and even have the slightest amount of the successes I have had, that I’m on the right track. It simply feels a bit disheartening to feel like I’m putting out effort and energy and, at times, seeing very little in return. It feels a little like taking one step forward, and five steps back.
Patience is a virtue, I suppose. I think it’s a virtue I need to adopt, bond with, dress up, snuggle, and cherish.
