I’ve been a workaholic for as long as I’ve been legally allowed to work. I got my first job at 15 and was hooked. I loved the independence and feeling financially responsible for myself. Not to mention opportunities to meet new people and learn new skills.
So hear I am now, living with my parents and purposefully not working in order to focus on my writing. Needless to say it’s difficult. It feels like a step in the wrong direction. I’ll be thought of as one of those crazy people. Or worse, lazy.
I struggle with it some days. Am I doing the right thing? I ask myself. Am I shirking responsibility or following a pipe dream which has no possibility of coming true? And the worst question: should I give it all up and go get a real job?
I know, only a couple months into this year-long adventure and I’m already having second thoughts. But it’s almost impossible not to. Every moment I’m not at my computer writing I feel guilty. This is my time to write wholeheartedly without distractions, how could I possibly take a moment to eat lunch, go for a walk or see an old friend?
All of these questions and the pressure I put on myself aren’t positive. I know that the only thing it will do is make me anxious and unable to concentrate on what is really important. But if I am kind to myself and patient things will fall into place. Not without hard work, but not without breaks either.