Life happens even when you don’t have the time for it.
It’s unfair how much more time I would need for all that I want to do. It’s unfair how much I still struggle with it.

Life has been happening—a good life, with other projects and other type of work. Meaningful work, nonetheless. But still, no words coming out, no word on paper, until I am so filled with words that I have to rush and say something, anything.
I am bubbling with characters, plot ideas, marketing plans, social media plans, editing…and nothing significant happens. Everything stands still, waiting for me to have the time.

And I should accept that. Why fight? I need to pay the bills, I need to give my kids attention, I need to wait 8 weeks for an additional 5 hours per week to work undisturbed, and I need to wait for my mother’s death. Acceptance. Life is what it is; it is not fair, but it is always better than the option.

So, I keep going, taking care of myself, listening to my body and mind, and doing what is possible without pushing or adding stress. Or at least trying to most of the days. But it isn’t easy.

I was always impatient with time; I wanted it all, and preferably now. And it still amuses me how I am so mature and adult 90% of the time, so in the other 10%, at least in my mind, I revert to my old self: stubborn, restless, and a bit crazy.

And I love her, the little minx inside of me that tells me I will do it all because I know exactly what I want, and I will not falter. I love her bitchy little kinky mind, the way she likes to provoke and laugh about, the way she does not care about anything else but herself. She is free; rules or agendas do not bind her, and she does not care.

A toast to her. She is amazing.