My writing has been… less than productive in the last few months. I haven’t met a single writing goal I set for myself in 2019.

Not. A. Single. One.

For someone who is goal-oriented (like me if you were unaware) not meeting goals sucks. It chips apart my confidence and wears away at the very fabric of my being.

Camp NaNoWriMo is upon us and I’m crashing and burning (no real surprise there). I’m behind on my goals for my annual anthology project… and the deadline cometh like a freight train speeding down a hill in the darkness.

I didn’t even start the 30 Day Challenge I agreed to join in January. I can’t even remember the rest of my writing goals but I know I didn’t make them because I haven’t finished writing anything in what feels like forever.

Have I finally lost my motivation? Has the well of inspiration run dry?  Am I a wash-up just when things are finally starting to gain momentum? No. No. and No.

Photo by Valentin Lacoste on Unsplash

I just flat-out don’t have enough time.

“You can find time to write anywhere!” some may claim. Hell, I’ve said it. Not enough time is one of the hallmark claims of would-be writers everywhere.

And I typically call bullshit. You really can find time to write anywhere. Even five minutes.

But.

I have to be honest.

I’m tired. I’m not even just tired anymore, I’m exhausted. My well needs refilling.

Juggling a (thriving) new business and all that comes with freelance work (I LOVE my clients!) while simultaneously keeping a household running and three little people alive and happy… paying bills, filing taxes… it’s all a bit to handle. My husband and I catch-up in the wee hours of the night, both of us weary from our full to overflowing days.

I thought I was Superwoman.

I was wrong.

It’s not that I’m not a badass, because I can honestly say I do have my badass moments–everyone does. But I am not Superwoman. I can’t do it all. I just can’t. I’m exhausted. Working fifty hours or more a week then shifting gears to mommy/wife/daughter mode is a lot–for anyone.

Add two or three hours a night writing and tossing in some marketing or event preparation…

Add in the mental exhaustion from cancer surveillance and waiting for biopsy results…

I was drowning.

I am drowning.

Photo by Cristian Palmer on Unsplash

In guilt for not being enough–not mom enough, not wife enough, not woman enough. For not getting all my to-dos done. For not spending enough time with the kids. For not getting my podcast, blog, or newsletter out for the entire month of March. For my inboxes overflowing with unread emails. For stalling on my classes. For not finishing my taxes even though they are due this weekend.

For X, Y, Z… it’s endless y’all. Even for someone who is uber-organized and (mostly) has their shit together. 

So. I’m taking a break.

A break from guilt. From my own harsh expectations.

I’ll keep writing. Nothing could stop me from that. I’m a happier person when I write, that’s for sure.

But I’m also healthier when I sleep more than five hours a night. When I’m not drowning in guilt for missing yet another day’s word count goal.

It won’t be forever. One day my business will settle into a groove and writing will nestle back into its rightful place of 6,000-word count goals or 2,000 or 500–whatever is realistic and fits into my life where I still get to see my growing children.

But I can honestly say that I can’t do everything right now. I’m not Superwoman. And that’s okay.

I still get to keep the cape.

My cape.

What about you? Do you try (and fail) to do it all? How do you manage the guilt with your own expectations?