Chaos and Creativity: How One Stay-at-Home Mom Turns Endless Interruptions Into Her Greatest Writing Asset
The problem I find with Gilbert’s idea is that it feels as if I’m being punished for not being at the right place at the right time. I mean, can you blame me if inspiration is floating toward my face and I have to turn away because my child needs to use the bathroom or someone wants a snack? Does choosing to be a mother of two obliterate my openness to receiving? What makes me any different than the mothers out there who have published novels, who continue to write, day-in and day-out?
For many years, I convinced myself that I couldn’t. Exercising my own creativity somehow felt selfish in my early motherhood. How could I possibly give to something else when these two small humans needed so much from me? And when I’d give it my all, as I often do, I’d barely have anything left. There were errands to run, laundry to do, meals to be cooked, keeping up with my self-care, maintaining a marriage, and friendships and relationships with my family … Well, you can imagine how these things go. Somewhere, something or someone is suffering. I had choices to make and writing was not one of them. Journaling for my mental health sufficed. I guess. But there was always something missing. A big piece, as it turns out.
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