I’m sitting on my back deck and there are birds and people on skateboards and I’m not wearing a sweater. It feels like I can finally breathe.
My mom used to do this, every evening she could she’d sit in her house dress on the back porch with her Diet Pepsi, maybe some chocolate and a novel. She worked her tail off (her words) and the sweet reward was getting to have a little bit of quiet.
Is my writing a career? Am I making time for it? People have told me that no matter how old my kids, there will never be enough time. It will always be a struggle to find an hour to write. Is that true?
It feels like it has to get easier.
Sometimes I want to shave my head. I wonder if this is a sign of depression or just an indicator that I am really bad at doing my hair.
Today in an effort to exercise, I did a plank. As I was trying to hold it for sixty seconds, I looked and I could see right down my shirt to my sagging stomach, almost hitting the floor. Does your stomach almost hit the floor when you’re doing a plank? I thought to myself, this body, this body has been through so much and it still has so far to go. I thought, do I love this body? Do I love who I am? Do I love who I’m becoming? Why do I sometimes want to shave my head?
I also thought, does writing make me happy? I’m pretty sure it does. I’m pretty sure that makes me a better person? A better Mom? A better wife? A better neighbor?
Today, after I did some planking, I ate a lot of cream cheese frosting cake from Costco. Just to fill up the holes inside. It sort of worked. And then I felt sick so it didn’t work.
Maybe what I need is to sit and drink Diet Pepsi (although I don’t like Diet Pepsi), eat chocolate and read a novel. It worked for my mom. And then I’ll get up in the morning and work my tail off. And hopefully write.