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pegkerrI am trying to figure out which rocks I should put in first.
I have been thinking about this all weekend. I never got around to what I had planned to do at all on Saturday. My plan to work on another project on Sunday got sidetracked by the Awful Discovery in Church.
I mentioned, of course, the good news I got about Kij and Jo, and I'm so glad for them, but naturally the news made me think of my own book. I did write a scene this week, but other than that haven't touched it in months.
What, really are my biggest rocks? What should they be? My day job? I don't care about it the way I do about other things in my life, but I have to pay the mortgage, and I have to provide the health insurance. I cut HPEF out of my life, or at least cut back, in one attempt to reprioritize. What about time for exercise? Trying to keep the house from caving in out of sheer chaos? My kids? I told Mom today that yeah, being a mother is important, it's very important to me, but it doesn't feel right to make it the be-all and end-all, the cornerstone of my purpose in life. What is my work, my special contribution to the work, other than I Take Care of Other People, namely my own children. Is it my writing? My sister Betsy was trying to console me for not getting much writing done. She has four boys, and they're starting to leave home now. "You have so little time with your kids," she tells me. "I was where you were at five years ago. Now I have all sorts of time. But think about it. You may have thirty or forty more years to write books. You have only five to seven more years with the girls at home."
I don't know why my thinking is so muddled, trying to figure out which rocks are the most important. I feel resentful: they're all important, so why can't I take care of all my rocks, dammit? I feel guilty for the ones that get left out. And I get angry that my jar is only so big, but there are only so many hours in the day, and it just takes so much time to do it all.
Yeah, yeah, yeah. In the back of my mind, I can hear my friend Laurie Winter saying, "Now, Peg, repeat after me: I am not responsible for the smooth and orderly running of the universe."
I have been thinking about this all weekend. I never got around to what I had planned to do at all on Saturday. My plan to work on another project on Sunday got sidetracked by the Awful Discovery in Church.
I mentioned, of course, the good news I got about Kij and Jo, and I'm so glad for them, but naturally the news made me think of my own book. I did write a scene this week, but other than that haven't touched it in months.
What, really are my biggest rocks? What should they be? My day job? I don't care about it the way I do about other things in my life, but I have to pay the mortgage, and I have to provide the health insurance. I cut HPEF out of my life, or at least cut back, in one attempt to reprioritize. What about time for exercise? Trying to keep the house from caving in out of sheer chaos? My kids? I told Mom today that yeah, being a mother is important, it's very important to me, but it doesn't feel right to make it the be-all and end-all, the cornerstone of my purpose in life. What is my work, my special contribution to the work, other than I Take Care of Other People, namely my own children. Is it my writing? My sister Betsy was trying to console me for not getting much writing done. She has four boys, and they're starting to leave home now. "You have so little time with your kids," she tells me. "I was where you were at five years ago. Now I have all sorts of time. But think about it. You may have thirty or forty more years to write books. You have only five to seven more years with the girls at home."
I don't know why my thinking is so muddled, trying to figure out which rocks are the most important. I feel resentful: they're all important, so why can't I take care of all my rocks, dammit? I feel guilty for the ones that get left out. And I get angry that my jar is only so big, but there are only so many hours in the day, and it just takes so much time to do it all.
Yeah, yeah, yeah. In the back of my mind, I can hear my friend Laurie Winter saying, "Now, Peg, repeat after me: I am not responsible for the smooth and orderly running of the universe."