The gym and I have parted ways. I went in yesterday and worked out for the first time in months and while it felt fantastic, I still had to quit. They give you three months to keep going then that is it so I have until May 5. I did it to save us some money but in a weird way, it made me feel pretty crappy.
All my life I have been a procrastinator, a dreamer, a quitter, a half asser. Sometimes I would follow through and feel good about my achievements, those A's I got in anatomy and algebra class will remain my crowning achievements. Most of the time, be it school, a business or an attempted career, I could give it my all and then just fall short. I blame no one but myself here.
Whether it was bad timing due to the job market or no customers or just naive grandiose thinking, things did not go as planned.
I remember believing my handmade, one of a kind jewelry business was going to do so well that we would be featured in magazines and stores. We tried all sorts of shows in NJ and out of state. We tried getting into Henri Bendel at their open call. Nothing. Then the friendship with my business partner unraveled and that pretty much ended the business. That and the fact that our idiotic accountant never filed quarterly reports with the IRS who we owed back taxes to. Good times.
After going back to work as an Executive Assistant, I became a certified oncology massage therapist and I loved it and could not wait to get a job in a hospital. Yeah. This was all just as the economy imploded and hospitals had no money to give us and rather we volunteer our time. I did volunteer in hospice for awhile, but making money to pay back school loans was a priority. I had a few private clients, but not enough to sustain my business. NJ then made it so you had to be registered with the state. Well, I had no money to register let alone take continuing ed courses. My supportive husband was already paying for the mortgage and bills so what else could I ask for? I began applying for any jobs I could get and got no calls. Then I got pregnant and that changed everything.
As for my writing, well, I have been writing stories for years and Thank the Baby Jesus my writing has improved, but writing takes concentration, time and effort. Not so easy when one has a full time job as a mom, wife and homemaker. Even though I have put in a lot of time and effort to these short stories and books, I suddenly feel like perhaps this is not going to go anywhere either. I have become more concerned with needing to bring in money to the household. I don't contribute anything financially even though I have sold some knit stuff to help bring in a little cash. It is not the same as getting a full paycheck. No, my husband has not demanded or asked me to go back to work, this is all on me. Trust me, I can self flagellate with the best of them.
Creative people are tough on themselves. We have to be because the world does not care for us or appreciate us as we are seen as lazy dreamers. Unless we make money then we are worth garnering praise. Look at the Rolling Stones, Foo Fighters, Dali, Nora Roberts, Shakespeare, Brad Pitt, Meryl Streep, Neil Gaiman, LeBron James, yes I consider some athletes artists, these are people who are at the pinnacle of their creative genres and the public adores them. But at the end of the day, the liberal arts major who wants to write a book is seen as a waste of space in society. I have a real problem with this country's current obsession with all things STEM, but that is another post.
Writers need time to create and well without that, you can't. Trust me, I sometimes work while my son sits there playing and then he wants me to play with him and what kind of schnook would I be if I ignored him to finish a scene? Instead I put the computer to the side and enjoy my son. I do not mind disruptions, but they happen so frequently I sometimes only get a few lines done. There are times I do not write a word for weeks. This of course leads me to snapping at some point like some crazy lunatic screaming that no one understands how I just want an hour to write, while my son and husband wonder who this woman is and why does she have five heads? I owe them more apologies than anyone can fathom.
This brings me to the very painful realization that writing may not be a smart pursuit at this time. This hurts. Hurts me to the bone. Kills me actually. Since 2008, I have tried to get numerous short stories and two novels published. Like a lot of people starting out I got rejections and I am proud of those rejections, but writing is not for the faint of heart and I am sad to say I think the struggle has finally defeated me. I can add it to my failure bin along with music, jewelry making, massage, and graphic design. There is nothing wrong with failure, we grow from it really, but it seems I believe myself more creatively bent than I actually am. That is okay, it is just a reality that hits lots of folks at one time or another. One of the jobs I am good at is being an Administrative/Executive Assistant and so that is what I need to accept. On a side note, I don't want to go back to an office environment just yet as I have no desire to put my child in daycare, but I am looking into virtual assistant jobs.
Maybe one day when my little one is in school, I can go back to writing. In the meantime, I may need to let my third novel languish in limbo. It rips my heart out to even type that, but what other choice do I have unless I start forgoing sleep altogether to get the damn book done? Yes, George R R Martin takes years to write a novel, but hello, he is George R R Martin. He gets a pass and rightfully so, he earned the damn thing. As for me, I don't know. I don't know if I can make the decision to just stop writing just yet, but I think I have to.
My mother, who could be quite a pistol, once said there is no good in being a jack of all trades and master of none. Point taken mom, just a little late.