The wisdom you gain from growing older manifests primarily in the ability to notice your own behaviour triggers and adapting around them. I know now that if the world is a weepy place full of unstoppable sadness for no particular reason, then I am actually really, REALLY tired and I need to go to bed. Instead of spending hours moping and trying in frustration to find a solution to the phantom problem, I should just hit the hay and take another run at things tomorrow.
The new warning sign I’m figuring out right now is the sense of bewilderment and panic evidenced in the previous post. That mood is somewhat fueled by uncertainty, but the real cause is that I haven’t been writing. If I dismiss my writing work simply because it’s terribly unprofitable right now, I’m missing out on the best skill that I have. Novel writing is my profession. I like doing it, I’m good at it and I get better at it with every hour that I work on it. There’s no point in focusing on the revenue it isn’t generating right now, because that is A) out of my control and B) pointlessly discouraging. So next time I start running around crying about jobs and money et al, I’ll simmer down and grab a pen and paper instead. We’ll see how that works.
In semi-related news, the return to preschool is going very well for both the little dude and I. I was worried that I would be overcome with parental loneliness once he started spending 3 full days at preschool, but the opportunity to write and blog and research and be an independent adult during the day has banished any sadness. And he’s taking to it like a champ. There was a small speed bump on the first day, when he woke up from a small nap at preschool. Max and I share a common, sullen mood when it comes to waking up from a nap, and I don’t think he has ever had to weather the unpleasantness of waking up without me or the wife being on hand to supply comfort and juice, so there was some prolonged afternoon sadness on his part. But, the next day, we brought a sleep toy with us to pre-school, and Max reported after school that he didn’t have any tears. Now we’re on day 3 and there was no before school upset. He practically ran into class to start his day and had to be reminded to give mom a smooch. Now we’re 30 minutes away from the end of class, and no call from the school, so I’m going to declare another successful school day.
I know a lot of stay-at-home parents hit an identity crisis when their kids go off to school and the parents are left trying to remember what they did with their productive time in the days before child. I’m very lucky that I have my writing to fall back into, and it is fantastic to be able to use my creative brain during the day when it’s full of fresh, wordy energy.