Down the Rabbit Hole

The Random Beauity of Chance

Returning to the daily grind is never easy following the extended holiday break. I started the morning with a new workout routine and a good breakfast and sent my daughter back to school with a few extra kisses. Her days will be longer now that the weather has finally turned wintry here, as will mine. I tried to summon more optimism on my drive in for the new year than I actually felt. I always tend to experience a bit of seasonal depression after the holidays wrap up. It’s unwelcome but expected. It’s just that in Southern New England, with the exception of my daughter’s birthday in mid-January, the next few months typically consist of days sporting brutal temps and underwhelming weekends full of hibernation and limited opportunities for socialization.

I tried, on my drive in, to convince myself that once I blazed past my daughter’s birthday party the remainder of the winter I would have plenty of time to focus more on my writing. I tried to recall how I tended to be more productive in the stretch from mid-Jan to mid-April, more aggressive in delivering on deadlines and pursuing submissions. I might, I reasoned, even start work again on “the novel,” that wonderfully elusive manuscript I keep tucked selfishly away between my ears. By the time I reached my office door, I had resolved to at least blog once a day to keep my creative juices flowing.

The reality is, my biggest commodity is time. Unless I manage to drag myself out of bed by 5am, I can barely get in my much-needed 30 minute workout before I have shower and then extract Jaden from her slumber to get her dressed and out the door by 7:15 each morning. In the evening, by the time I finish dinner and clean-up, I get to make the excruciating choice between spending time with my family or taking myself away to write. I always choose family time, telling myself once she’s sleeping, I’ll get up and do something for me. If I managed to make it out of bed, lately that “something for me”, ends up being binge watching three or four episodes of something scary or dramatic on Netflicks. I imagine it is the same affliction with all working moms…time thinly divided, hard choices made and not enough hours in the day to account for everyone’s needs less of all one’s own.

Regardless of how it sounds, I’m not complaining. I do enjoy my family. I do love feeling like the master of a small, chaotic universe where everyone counts on me to keep everyone feed, clothed and cuddled. I don’t always get it right, but I enjoy the quest for my own brand of balanced perfection between work and home. I wish I could find a few more hours to devote to writing that did not come at the expense of my work and home demands but without life, I supposed I would also lack inspiration. Without the chaos, my muse would certainly sit immobile in the corner, berating me to “live a little for Christ’s Sake!”

I purposely did not make my standard, “I will write more this year” resolution. I intentionally did not set goals or fill my calendar with deadlines from various publications. I did not update the outline for any one of my phantom novels. This year, I’m leaving it all to chance. In fact, this year Chance will become a new theme for me. I’m going to take a chance that I’ll find more time to work on me, my body, my health, my craft. I’m going to take a chance on new friendships and let go of the ghosts in my life. I’m going to give the chaos of this life a chance to take me where it may; into more PTO meetings and paint nights, into new activities that test me physically, into new feelings of commitment and balance, into more dates nights with my husband, business trips and weekend getaways, the chance to experience more editing sessions with editors and publishing credits. This year I’m going to put my faith in the random beauty of leaving things to chance. I think there might even be a damn good chance that 2016 could end up being a pretty amazing year.