I am blogging from my phone. Because I have a cat on my lap and my laziness apparently knows no bounds.
Been having a bit of a crisis lately. As much as I like my present job I can’t envision doing it long term. Essentially I talk to myself all day, which is perhaps not the best thing for a mentally ill person to be doing all day. I like that I am helping others but I feel so…empty. It could just be the mood disorder but I think a lot of it stems from the anxiety of the unpredictable nature of the job. Though my OCD is well managed, I still have it. And I feel some semblance of predictability in a job is essential for me.
But making money is also essential. If I had a choice I would quit the day job and write all the time. But I have the kiddo to support (not to mention two adorable felines). I can’t really afford to walk away from a day job.
But how to find time to write when I presently am so exhausted? I haven’t figured that one out yet. In fact I’ve been looking at adding a part time job to the full time one just to make ends meet. Which will give me even less time for creative pursuits.
So what does my soul need? Time to create. Which is exactly what I don’t seem to have time for.
So to pursue what may in fact be a pipe dream? I would have no other option but success. When you’re throwing away over a grand a month on an apartment things tend to have a different perspective.
Or to work temp jobs and ease into the writing and editing thing? That also seems sketchy. But if I don’t make time to write I would be giving up on some dreams that I’ve had since elementary school.
I’ve had to give up on a lot of dreams. I would rather not throw all of them to the wayside. Performing on any successful level seems out of the question at this point. But writing? Hey who cares if I am getting older? Or if I weigh too much? If I can still get my thoughts out somehow…and perhaps expand them to fiction or at least something not so specific as surviving mental illness…then perhaps I can make a career out of it.
Well, I have to try. There’s still a bit of an idealist left in me. I have heard all too specifically about the horrors of growing older. And I want to start something I can believe in, something that will outlast this mortal shell. I recently gave up a sales opportunity because I was convinced that I wanted to write something of value before I die. This fear that time is running out possesses me, especially at work when I see the timer on calls ticking away.
So what to do in whatever time I have left? I’m going to pursue my passions while they’re still worth pursuing. Somehow. Stay tuned folks. Perhaps I am on the verge of something not entirely mediocre…