Winning Battles So I Can Write

 Writing. Sometimes it has to take a backseat to life.

Sometimes the things that are competing with our writing are what I call everyday pulls: children (two-legged as well as four-legged ones), spouses, and daytime jobs (if we do something other than writing full-time).

Usually we can find ways to carve out pieces of our day, surrounded by spousing and housekeeping and cooking and child-raising and dog walking. It makes us occasionally frantic and often exhausted, but it can be done and is done all the time.

Other times, what throws writing into the backseat (or the trunk) is more serious.

Most of the time Sometimes Occasionally I battle with depression. It's genetic. My birth mother killed herself when I was nine. Fortunately, I was adopted as a newborn, and had an idyllic childhood and the best parents in the world. Unfortunately, I not only got a healthy dose of "nurture," I also got a generous dollop of "nature" and since both my birth mother and my birth maternal grandmother suffered from serious depression, that means debilitating sadness runs in my veins.

For those who are lucky enough to not ever have been depressed, imagine you are surrounded by a thick cocoon. What is wrapped around you, layers and layers, muffles the joy. The possibilities. The life around you. You know there are things you should do to engage more with friends, with your passions, but it's as if you're wrapped up in a bunch of thick quilts... and you can't escape.

                                                                     image by Pixabay

Currently I'm also battling mice. In the thirty-five years we've lived here, this is our first infestation. I've learned some things:

• They're incredibly fast and when they fly across the floor, they're completely silent.
• They can fit into amazingly tiny openings. I knew that, but seeing it in real-life was something altogether different.
• I love animals, but right now, I love killing animals.

Oh, I've tried these plug-in things that supposedly put out some sound that only mice can hear, and the sound repels them. Apparently our mice love the beat, they adore the monotone melody, because I see them disco-dancing as they move around our house. They spin, they dip, they bump and grind and twerk. John Travolta has nothing on these rodents. I've also tried live traps, but I guess I have kamikaze mice. They're rather die trying to get to the cheese pack in our boxes of mac and cheese, rather than end up in a live trap so they can be released in a field (far, far away). I know some of the aggressive things I need to do to get rid of the mice... and yet I'm paralyzed.

To get back to real writing, I have to get my inner life back on track. Easier said than done, I know. To finish my screenplay, to use my vision board to work some magic, to make serious progress on my new writing project, I have to tear out of this cotton batting cocoon and battle my demons.

And mice. Don't forget the mice... 

Sioux Roslawski is a middle school teacher, an author (her book, the historical novel Greenwood Gone: Henry's Story can be ordered through Barnes and Noble or Amazon), and a dog-rescuer. You can read more of her musings by checking out her blog.