I've been avoiding writing this blog post for months now, mainly because I don't want to sound whiny or ungrateful. But last night as I was falling asleep I realized I needed to share this. The whole point of starting this blogs over 3 (yes, that is correct, THREE years) ago was to share my experience and journey in pursuing the dream of becoming a published author.
Through the last 3 years, I've had my struggles and challenges, but none of them compare to what I'm going through now. If you recall in my last post, writing has taking the biggest hit since I became a mom. I didn't elaborate too much, but today is confession time.
My brain has completely left for vacation. What little brain cells I've left, I dedicate to my day job (it pays for daughter's school, new car, bills, and food on the table) and being somewhat present for my family. It's been a year now since I haven't slept a full 8 hours uninterrupted (the last three months of my pregnancy I got up at least 5 times a night to pee). After months of sleep deprivation depression sets in. I've been battling postpartum depression off and on since January. It's been survival every day for last 9 months and a human being can only live so long in that state before shutting down.
Lucky for me and my family I got help before it was too late, but motherhood has taken it's toll at a hefty price. I cannot focus for the life of me long enough to finish a story. When I lay at night thinking of what to write next, I get really good ideas and sometimes I actually get up and type them out so I don't forget, but that's where it ends. There seems to be zero energy or motivation for me to expand, develop, layer these nuggets of inspiration, let alone edit, revise, and fix the novels I have already completed.
When I have a moment, like right now, to work on a project, I either sit and stare at a blank document for five minutes before getting onto Facebook and blowing through all 5 lives on Candy Crush or sit on my recliner and watch TV while drinking wine and stuffing my face with chocolate. Then I spend the next day when my daughter comes home from my folks' place feeling guilty for wasting a perfect opportunity to write.
To make matters worse, I haven't attended a RCRW meeting since April or even joined my writer friends for a meetup. I miss being around them so much. Every month I see their posts on Facebook or Twitter recapping the awesome meeting of that particular month and I try not to cry. I so wish I could be there and learn from these fantastic authors and writers who inspire me so much. But the monthly meeting falls on the Saturdays that hubby has to work and I don't have a sitter.
What happened? I ask myself everyday. I used to love writing. I mean, I wrote my first novel while working full-time, going to school full-time, maintaining a 4.0 GPA, and running a part-time business. Why can't I balance motherhood, day job, and writing now? Why do I feel so lazy and unmotivated? Grrrrrrrr!
It will get better, I tell myself. It has too. I really want to be a published author. Especially in the Romance genre. I want to go to RT and sign books. I want to write stories that inspire, bring hope, and ignite passion in the reader's heart. I don't want fame, although I wouldn't object to fortune, but that's really not on the top of my priority list.
So there you have it. The raw, unattractive, revolting truth. No more secrets. It's out there in the open for the world to read and judge. Just don't throw any eggs or rotten tomatoes at me, please.