Why the fuck is this not organic?
Maybe what I want to write isn’t what I really want and unnecessary.
It has been a long time since I have worked on my second novel. And maybe even longer since I have written anything substantial. I’ve been so wrapped up in just making sure the money is right to make sure we have a roof over our heads and electricity I haven’t done a pulse check recently.
I want to write so bad.
But I can’t.
It’s like I am holding myself back because of fear. But honestly what am I afraid of?
I’m afraid of my fuckin self.
How many people can admit that?
Do you have the ability to look in the mirror and acknowledge that what that person is doing is self-destructive?
After several few years of therapy, I can see how my coping skills are problematic. I sat in on a couple AA meetings. I already know however many rules there are. And no, I’m not buying that damned book.
I wish I could stay home all day while the kids are at school and just write books and more books. I swear that is life goals for me. I just want to be a full-time writer. Me and my son’s father got into quite a few heated arguments because I refused to sit on my hands and remain a customer service slave for another twelve months. And definitely not for forty hours per week.
I fought the man I loved tooth and nail because I refused to accept that as my fate. When I reflect now, he came to resent me because of that and I don’t blame him. Of course, it sounds crazy to pursue my dreams homeless and part time with a preteen and toddler.
But I was ready to jump out of that damn window. I believed in my talent. I trusted happiness was greater than wealth.
So what now?
I gave up on a love that I was so sure about. I decided to go back fulltime at the job I hate the most. As much as this doesn’t feel like me, it is me. It’s for the betterment of me. I am a mother. My happiness, my purpose and my life are dedicated to my daughter and son.
Lowkey, yes, I feel like I sold out. But that’s some shit I will have to go through. It’s not all about me. Shit. It hasn’t been for thirteen years. The author of Fifty Shades and Harry Potter were older bitches when they finally blew up. And God willing I will have the same success when I am able to.
Just Kaz LLC 