Not too much on the brain today, but I'll come up with something to write about. I was just reading my last post and thinking about how much of a perfectionist I used to be. It's an issue that I still struggle with today. Recently, my husband and I realized that, as of this summer, I have stayed home for six years. I have been out of the fray, out of the rat race, for six years! Being at home has been a remarkable key to my staying healthy. When I work, the issues I struggle the most with, including my perfectionism, almost eat me alive. Once I'm in a job, I feel like I'm performing. Consequently, if I don't do it well, I've failed to meet some one's expectations. Even worse I've disappointed someone. Rather than enjoying my job, I become obsessed with it, always trying to figure out how to be better, always feeling that I'm not doing a good enough job.
That's what it was like to be a teacher. Don't get me wrong I really enjoyed teaching and still teach a sunday school class at church. But I'm not sure my perfectionist side could handle full-time teaching again. When I was a teacher my anxiety level skyrocketed. I felt like a tight rope walker; balancing everything oh so carefully, but one miscalculation, one misstep, and I was a goner. It all just became too much.
Writing is so different for me, I don't feel like I'm performing for anyone. I'm just writing what's on my heart, what's on my mind. I just get to enjoy the process. If I make a mistake, it's okay. Words can always be changed, sentences can always be restructured, and there's a dictionary for all those misspelled, misplaced words.
I have to admit that if I had my druthers, I'd stay at home, once all the kids were in school, and write for a living. Seriously, it would be my dream job. In fact it's something I want so bad, that I am almost afraid to ask God for it - as if he's a begrudging giver, a heartless master who withholds anything he thinks might give his child pleasure. I know that's the wrong attitude, the wrong heart to have. But when I want something so bad, it's hard to hold that "want" with an open hand. In his wisdom, I know that God will either gently curl my fingers around this dream, nod his head in approval, and whisper, "Go for it, child.", or he will lovingly peel that one from my grasping fingers. Then he'll whisper ever so gently, "I have a higher purpose, a greater cause, and an even better dream for you. Let this one go." So I guess I'll hold this dream with an open hand. Whether I go back to teaching, sit in an office chair, or write my heart out every day, it will all be okay. I just know it.
No comments:
Post a Comment