November has almost passed me by. I barely remember most of it. It’s been a bit of a blur.
Not a good one, or a bad one.
Just an exhausting, sometimes happy and often painful, blur of stress and activity.
This month rapidly became an experiment, or perhaps a lesson, in respecting my limits. I didn’t. I have paid the price for it:
Two panic attacks, an autistic meltdown, and a perpetually grumpy mood has been the results of my not finding a better balance.
Here’s the thing about being a writer. Unlike regular jobs, it doesn’t have a 9 to 5. It doesn’t go away. The work can be constant and neverending.
I write. I must write. The stories must get out of my head.
And then–there are books to promote. Fellow authors to support. A husband who needs and deserves attention. If you pull yourself in too many directions, things begin to slip through the cracks: a brilliant idea, or a promise made, or any number of countless things.
This month, I stretched myself too thinly and what paid the price was my emotional state of mind.
I forgot to breathe.
So, I’m remembering to do so now–a day late and a dollar short (to quote my grandfather.)
How do you remember to maintain balance in your life?
