Over the last two weeks, the question of whether or not to keep writing has hovered over me like a black cloud, following me everywhere.
I hurt my back again, so sitting at my laptop for more than a few minutes has been impossible. My husband has been out of town (and is headed out again tomorrow after a brief visit this weekend), and my kids have been sick. Even if I hadn't hurt my back, I wouldn't have been able to write this week with everyone puking everywhere. (Except me...so far....)
As I do everything except write, I wonder why I feel a compulsion to do it. What would happen if I just stopped writing? The fact is nothing would change except I would have more time to do other things. No one would notice.
I know I write to have some sort of purpose besides cleaning toilets and doing laundry and being better than a Google search when my kids need help on literary things and verb tenses.
Last night, I asked my husband how his work went over the last week. He told me he was showered with compliments over his technical ability. Don't get me wrong, I am very happy for him, for us, since he is earning money for the both of us, a decision we made together. But I remember getting compliments at work, being as near to indispensable as an employee can be, being the go-to person when something needed to get done, being the person people could trust to figure out the problem and make it happen.
Now I do laundry and dishes. And no one notices. No one will ever notice.
I know I am not alone in this - I whine for all of us in this situation. And yet we are doing the right thing. We are taking it for the team. We are almost heroic, silently doing work no one wants to do. We are like Cinderella doing all the work before we can go to the ball. Except there's no ball.
The thing is I have a few stories in my head I'd like to get on paper. That I sort of need to get on paper for whatever reason. My teen thinks it's cool I write - it's one thing I think she definitely appreciates about me. And my baby LOVES my children's stories - even the bad ones. Maybe that's all the recognition I need. So I'll keep writing for them - and for me - probably, but not today.