When I started writing my book a few months back, a friend of mine—who once wrote a book of his own—gave me some advice for when “you hate your book.” While in the midst of writing it (and write it I did—I turned it in to my editor on time three weeks ago!) I never did reach that point when I hated the book, I did get to the place where I was so sick of myself, my thoughts, my ideas, my writing, and anything that flitted inside my brain, I thought I’d die or go insane. Seriously. I now understand why so many writers do go—or are—insane. No offense….
All this to say, I haven’t blogged since I turned in my book for those very reasons. I’m still sick of my own thoughts, and I’m cringing a bit even now as I think them.
But one important thing came of all this me—and it affects my mom ID more than I ever realized. In the book, I’ve got a chapter on how God can shape and grow you during periods of being “hemmed” in—meaning during times of motherhood when you feel you’re kept from or unable to live out all your gifts and dreams or whatever.
While I’ve long experienced this hemmed-in feeling as a mom, spending all these months eating, drinking, thinking, sleeping my book hemmed me in in a whole new way. Actually, in the reverse way. While writing about wanting to be known for my full identity and being encouraged to live out my full identity, I found myself wanting nothing more than to be with my kids.
Not that I wasn’t with them, mind you, during this process. I wrote in the wee hours of the night, during “nap” times, baths, and with them playing on the floor while I typed at my desk. I had babysitters sometimes, but primarily, I was at-home as much as I ever way. But I even when I was with them, I wasn’t often engaged—my mind was on the book.
That’s whey I realized what was happening. I think God also used the period of writing to stretch and grow me as a mom. I’ve come out of the book-writing period not only pumped about getting to live a dream, but recharged about my role as mom. Go figure… But I gotta run now—I’m getting sick of me again.