I talk a lot about balance. About balancing writing life and real life, and trying to find balance in this crazy adult world (sometimes it is still a shock to wake up and realize I am an adult).
This week has not been full of balance. Unfortunately, the kind of unbalance I can’t really control. The kind of unbalance where you just kind of have to hold on for dear life and hope you make it to the other side.
We all have different ways of dealing with this. My husband sleeps or works out more, the baby refuses to sleep in any normal pattern, I want to huddle up with my computer and shut out the world. Unfortunately, mine is the least plausible of those three.
I got to a point today where I desperately needed to be alone. No baby. No hubby. Just me and my MS and silence. I got about 45 minutes of this and, lo and behold, I felt more in control, less frustrated. I could once again deal with things not going just so.
Sometimes I will feel guilty if I am writing and hubby and baby are in the next room playing. Sometimes I will feel guilty if I stay up an extra hour to write. But, I shouldn’t. Writing is my nap, my work out, my whatever-it-is to get you through a tough time. That alone time, that “me” time recharges me and allows me to be a better more present person when I disengage from that fictional world.