Wednesday, August 8, 2012


I often joke that my life changes with the seasons: spring, summer, football, and gumbo.  But if you look a little closer, at the bigger picture, there are other seasons.  Sometimes they follow predictable development patterns (for example, seven-year cycles), but they look different for each person.  Society sometimes leads us to believe that once a person reaches a certain age, once they have a family or a career, that life becomes suddenly static.

It's a huge load of crap, and we all know it.  Yet, for some reason, when change comes,  we are surprised by it.

Now, to be clear, I'm talking about internal change.  Shifts in desire or need.  These changes can be sparked by external forces, but the motivation is decidedly internal.  We one day wake up and don't want the same things we did five or ten years earlier.  Or maybe it was a slow, gradual shift, but one we ignored or didn't notice for a while.  Either way, we begin to act differently.  We might even change our appearance.

The shifts don't frighten me.  Surprise, yes.  Sometimes.  But I don't fear them or run from them.  They're part of life, the journey, the ride.  Then again, I like change.

Currently, I'm having a little season shift again.  I thought I was ready to dive back into writing, completely immerse myself in a story and characters again.  But, apparently, that was just the beginning of the summer talking.  I just popped up to the surface to take a big gulp of air, and now I'm diving down again, preparing for another year of homeschooling.  I think at one point I might have cried and fought this realization with all of my being.  But for now I've made peace with it.  I don't have to drown, even though the kids are going to be my main focus for a while.  It gets easier as they get older to take care of myself and honor my own needs along the way.  I just have to be creative.  I can learn to draw and paint along with them.  I can write and craft stories in the afternoons while they do the same.  I can bring everyone in the bedroom to read books on my bed (the kids) or chew a bone on the floor (the dog) while I sew.

I simply have to accept that my creative output might take a slower pace in the fall.  And that's fine.  In November we'll slow the book work and I'll have NaNoWriMo and holiday crafting in which to immerse myself.  The seasons will shift once again.  I just have to be patient.  For now, I can plan.  Play.  Let those voices in my head develop lives and motivations and fears and interesting quirks.  Lay the groundwork for the next season.

Remind myself: I am not drowning.  

No comments:

Post a Comment