This post WAS supposed to be sponsored by Grammarly, but they failed to deliver on their promise of compensation, so their sponsorship credit has been removed. Should they decide to keep their promise after all, I will reinstate it. However, based on this unfortunate situation, I can no longer recommend them. I sincerely hope that’s temporary.
This myth is near and dear to my heart, mostly because I believed it until fairly recently. If you’ve followed the blog for any length of time, you know I have twin toddlers, a full-time job, and a variety of part-time jobs and projects all vying for my time. Oh, and a husband. And two dogs. Can’t forget them.
Point is, I’ve got a lot going on. And despite the fact that writing is who I am and as important to me as breathing, I’ve let it slide since the kids came along, and I’ve used them as an excuse.
There. I said it. I used my kids as an excuse. I did it because I was scared. I did it because I was afraid that I wouldn’t be good anymore, that after I became a mom I wouldn’t have anything important to say that didn’t involve my children (who are remarkably adorable) or their bodily functions (which are remarkably gross). I did it because I was afraid that I wouldn’t be taken seriously as a mommyblogger.
Most of all, I did it because I felt like it was time to put on a new identity — someone’s MOM — and I didn’t know how the old me fit into that.
Well, I figured it out: The “new me” suffered greatly as a result of ignoring that voice inside that told me to WRITE IT DOWN. Over the last several years, without taking time to reconnect with myself and my thoughts and my goals and my reactions, I stopped dreaming. I lost touch with what makes me happy, what exhilarates me. I became clumsier and clumsier at expressing myself. My thinking and dreaming and speaking and writing and finding joy and LIVING are all tied together.
I’ve had time. I didn’t use the time, because I didn’t think it was important enough. I was wrong. Click to continue reading >>>