I think I had an epiphany in the shower this morning.  I have been struggling to figure out what the next chapter is for me.  My nonprofit work is ending and I am trying to decide where to go from here.  I know that I don’t want to practice law again.  I’ve written before in this blog about wanting to write and that is definitely the direction I have chosen.  I know it’s the right choice but I am realizing that just “knowing” is not enough.  I am not talking here about skill or talent.  I am talking about something much deeper than that.  I am talking about giving yourself permission to do what you love, regardless of the outcome or monetary benefit.  I am talking about self-imposed guilt – something we women are pretty good at.  There is actually so much more than mere talent wrapped up in actually moving forward with this.

In my mind (and actually out loud) I have framed my writing future as one that should come in the form of a paying job.  Here is my thought process…….   “Of course I will need to make money as a writer of some sort because, for God’s sake, who do I think I am to sit in my house while my kids are at school and other activities and just write for the sake of writing.  Surely I don’t deserve that.  Who am I, a princess?  Most households have 2 working parents and they work damn hard to make ends meet.  They don’t get to sit at home and write for nothing.”  This thought pattern is what birthed my search for a writing job.  And that is where I have put all my energy.  Or lack thereof…..

I say lacking because the truth is I have been stuck in the “I can’t get out of my own way” space.   I’ve been true to writing this blog and have tried to do some writing for other people.  I even engaged someone to help me put together a resume that might make my limited writing experience look desirable to potential employers.   But honestly I have been dragging my self along.  Literally.  I have felt like I have two 500 lb weights on each ankle and arm making it almost physically impossible to move.  Slogging through the muck and mire is a good way to put it.  I am so certain that writing is what I want to do.  Why can’t I just do it?  

For a while I thought, “Oh it’s because I’m afraid of failure or looking like a loser.  I’ve certainly written enough as a lawyer to know what I’m doing but I haven’t written in other forums.  Surely no one will want to pay me.  What if I’m no good.  What if people don’t like me because I sound like a moron.”  Good God the thoughts just tumble along while I sit and stare at this screen with my  weights clanging around me.  

After weeks of running around this gerbil wheel, one paralyzing thought has been nagging at me with increasing intensity.   Why, if I am so certain about the joy that writing brings me, can’t I just write?   I believe in this choice for myself.  I feel like it’s time to do it.  I know in my heart that it is right.  Why am I so stuck?  Why can’t I offer my writing to an employer?  What the hell is the problem?  Well, I think I figured it out this morning in the shower and here it is.  Truth:  I actually don’t want a job writing for someone else.  There, I said it.  I am paralyzed because I don’t want to get a writing job or write for someone else using their voice.  I just want to write for me.  Simple as that.  Sure, it would be great to get paid but the truth is I don’t have to and the extended truth – the one that I believe is the owner of the 500 lb weights – is that I feel really guilty about that.

I am a very lucky woman.  I have a supportive family and group of friends.  I am fortunate enough at this point to not have to be a working mom.  I have stayed home with my children and have cherished every minute.  Well, maybe not every minute but most of them.  More importantly, I know that having the choice to work or not is not the norm for most women.   Most women, either out of necessity or desire, have a job outside of the home.  I know I may get some hairy eyeballs from this next statement but I believe that most working moms do so because they are an equal or primary breadwinner not because they necessarily want to.   There are millions of exceptions, I know, and thank God we are living in a time where those exceptions exist, allowing women to have a career and a family.  I have always felt very lucky to be able to choose to stay with my children.  But I have also felt extremely guilty about having a law degree and not using it.  About choosing to stay home to raise my kids rather than work for a salary.   

I fielded this guilt for many years by running a small nonprofit for the benefit of our school district.  This was volunteer work but it was also a way for me to feel useful to the world while being home with my kids.  I was really lucky to have this opportunity.  But now it is over and I am moving on.  This time doing something I really love but will most likely be meaningful only to me.  I suppose I might get lucky and publish something someday but that’s pretty unlikely.  This isn’t sour grapes or a “woe is me” tune I’m singing, it’s just reality.  And now I am ok with that.  It has taken some real soul-searching to get here and I am sure I will take a few steps back every now and then.  But for now I am grateful to all the Gods who have put me in a place of relative freedom.  Freedom to be at home and write just for writing’s sake.  

After all this rambling the epiphany I spoke of at the start is this.  It is ok for me to be in this position.  It doesn’t mean that I am a spoiled brat but it does mean that I should acknowledge the opportunity I have and be grateful for it.  My best friend told me a long time ago that “guilt is optional”.  That really rings true for me here.  I don’t have to feel guilty because I have the opportunity to do what I love.  I can – and should – be happy about it.  Deliriously happy in fact.  And more than that, grateful.  I have never been more grateful than I am right now as I write this post.  I am incredibly grateful to be able to write this silly little post and am really excited for all the posts and essays that will follow.