The Messiness of Life

I have always written. From the time I was young, I journaled almost obsessively. When I was 8 years old and I thought my parents were treating me unfairly, I journaled what was happening so when I was an adult with my own children I wouldn't make the same mistakes I perceived them as making. Precocious and egotistical - maybe. But I was 8 years old. I have also always been an avid reader. In fact, there are times in my life that reading books and writing about life have proven to be more of a support to me than almost anything (or anyone) else. I have found that I'm better able to deal with the messiness of life if I write it down.

Having said all that - I don't like messes. Before I sit down to write, my house must be relatively uncluttered and clean. I have a cleaning schedule that I try to adhere to every day. Unfortunately for me, I also have the cold from Hell. This cold (and my work schedule and taking care of my girls) has severely depleted my energy levels. So right now, there are dishes in the sink (yes I do have a dishwasher, but there are still things I need to wash by hand) and laundry on my bed that needs folded. The kitchen needs mopped and the carpet needs swept. But here I am, starting a blog. Why? I think it's because I feel pulled to write. I feel as if my writing must be put on the same level of importance that I place on taking care of myself and my children. My writing is a part of me - and I need to take care of my needs every day as well to truly be at my  best as a mother, etc - so why shouldn't I take care of my writing every day? Does this mean that my house will go to hell in a handbasket while I work on my novel and/or other writing projects? No, probably not. But the cold from Hell has reminded me to slow down and take care of ME - which means the damn dishes can just sit there another day. And hopefully I'll remember to turn on the dishwasher before I go to bed tonight so we have clean dishes and utensils for tomorrow.