Every once in while, as you bob and weave through the blogosphere, you read something and think, Yes! Exactly! and Thank you! That’s why I read blogs, and – truthfully – why I write one. Because sometimes we (the readers, the writers) find each other on just the right day. Today’s guest post was one of those. Amy sent it to me on a day I was busy lugging around a load of disappointment in… myself. I read her words and the negative internal dialogue went poof!

I’m excited to host Amy here today. We met first on Twitter when I stalked wrote to say I loved her book, and have since had the chance to hang out a couple times. This is the truth: Amy’s every bit as fabulous in person as she is on the page (or screen). She’s the real deal, people. And I’m thankful I know her.

With that, here’s today’s guest post…

***

I’m just dipping my toe in the Pinterest waters these days. I’m not sure that I really need another social media garden to tend, but it’s calling to me, and I’ve been lurking a bit, searching, not knowing what I’m even looking for. Sometimes life is like that.

And then I saw this:

And the gift of that statement socked me right in the solar plexus, taking my breath away.

What if, at the end of today, I didn’t look back and castigate myself for the things I didn’t get done?

What if, at the end of today, I don’t hate myself because, after twenty minutes of my child shrieking at me, I shrieked back?

What if my second book, my screenplay, my blog, all my writing that fills up my time without my children and fulfills my need to create, could bring me joy without a sense of obligation? What if I could think to myself “Lucky me! I got twenty minutes to write today!” rather than “Twenty minutes? And you call yourself a writer?”

If any of us are ever going to get anything done besides being a mother, if we are to create at all, we need what Martha Graham called

a queer, divine dissatisfaction, a blessed unrest that keeps us
marching and makes us more alive than the others.

But the world won’t end if I don’t get to the gym this week, if I order pizza for dinner, if the speech I’m giving in March goes untouched for one more day, if I am a mother and writer and woman who is less than perfect. For my work, I need the blessed unrest that keeps me marching. But for my husband, my family, my life, I need to let whatever I do today be enough.

I wonder…

:: Why is this a lesson so hard for many of us to learn?
:: Do we as women and mothers have a harder time with this than men do?
:: And is that fault in the stars, or in ourselves?

***

About the Writer:

Amy Wilson blogs at whendidigetlikethis.com. She is the author of When Did I Get Like This? The Screamer, The Worrier, The Dinosaur-Chicken-Nugget Buyer, and Other Mothers I Swore I’d Never Be  and the play Mother Load.  This spring, she is directing the New York City premiere of Listen To Your Mother. Join the When Did I Get Like This? Facebook page or follow Amy on Twitter.