I have a full time job. And then have taken on several hourly type freelance jobs. That when put together create for a lovely bit of overwhelming non-breathing space.

I have a full time job. And when November hit, I started writing another novel. But by the time I get home, I struggle with finding the mental energy to put words onto screen. Even though I really love writing and want to do this for the rest of my life.

I have a full time job. And to deal with seasonal affectiveness disorder, I spend time in the morning and afternoon outside. In the morning, I walk my dog. In the afternoon, I work in my garden. I do my best to luxuriate in the sunshine, even if it’s bitterly cold because I know that the rhythmic pulses of the outdoor world do wonders for my mental health.

I have a full time job. And last August my brother died. And even though I knew he was going to die due to dementia, I was not ready. For the last four years, I have been experiencing waves of anticipatory grief and thought that when he passed away then the anticipatory grief would leave too. And it did. Only to be replaced by new levels of grief for which I was unprepared. I was ready to mourn. And I did. I was ready to sort of grieve. Which I did really well. But I wasn’t expecting for it to last. And not end. Just abide small corners of my life and my world and be at peace until something stirs. The wind? A brush of a memory against the corner of my mind. The flutter of a bird’s wings and the pain rushes back in.

I have a full time job. And I am not a good housekeeper. In fact, I find it hellishly overwhelming and exhausting because I have a 120 year old house that doesn’t have 120 year old closets. In fact, it really only has two closets. Because the hidey holes on either side of the fireplaces function more as Scooby Doo style hiding places and false walls than storage areas. I have 53 years of accumulated stuff and I keep on getting more even though I keep getting rid of some but the mismatching of the pronouns equals clutter. And I actually hate clutter. But getting home and spending time in the garden to absorb sunlight means more fatigue by the time I come inside to spend time cleaning the house. But I’m working at it. I have a black trash bag half full for Goodwill. And I keep going through the debris, but….

I have a full time job. And I have found the balance of the full time job against the contract and even though I take work home, I frequently don’t work on it. But I do try to find ways to learn and gain knowledge and experience. Even if that means freelance work. Or reading creative writing books and doing creative writing exercises. But then what I learn bleeds into my work which is good because I’m taking real world skills (is high school a fake world?) into my classroom and trying to help my students learn how to adult.

I have a full time job. And I have mounting responsibilities that frequently make me feel like I have no breathing space. And many times, I clutter up that breathing space with the undisciplined ability to wade through my personal responsibilities versus my personal need for entertainment versus my personal need for….fill in the blank. So often, I feel like my life is a plate of sticky, day-old spaghetti noodles. Resinous. Torturedly stuck together and unable to be separated without breaking. And yet I’m the one who made the plate and slapped the pasta upon the plate.

What I have been learning in the last months is how to step back. I am going to finish Homeleaving. I will finish before the end of December and the disappointment that I feel hovering over me that I’m not going to finish it before the end of November is self-manifested. The eyes staring at me are just T.J. Eckleberg’s (spelling?). There’s really nothing behind them. Similarly, I will eventually have a clean(ish) house. And a clean(ish) garden. And I will continue to fill up my journals and thumb through my books. But I’m learning that I have expected way the hell too much out of myself. I have shelves of books that I keep filling. I have boxes of Legos (and fake Legos) that I want to build but don’t have the time for.

And that’s what I keep coming back to. Time. Full. Partial. Freelance.

Time is not my enemy. Nor am I. Because I have learned the art of taking a step back. Of taking in that long, deep breath and assessing what I really am capable of doing in the short amount of time that I have per day or per afternoon or per morning. And I am learning how to value that short amount of time and to fill it with activities that are needed (cleaning) and life-giving (writing, reading, Lego building).

And while I’m at it. I think I’ll learn how to juggle. Not to do more in my time. But because I’ve always wanted to.