Writer not Writing...

For the first time in years, I have literally nothing, NOTHING, out in the world waiting for editors or publishers to accept or reject. And part of me is completely panicked. If I'm not sending out work for publication, what does that mean about my writing career? And then there's the rest of me that laughs and says, "career?" And reminds me that this is not my career - my career is teaching. I get up every day and go into a classroom and teach. That is my career. And writing? It's a hobby, a passion, it's something to I'm good at that I like to do. Yet, at this season in my life - it is not near the top of my priority list. If it were, I'd have pieces out, right? Or I'd be writing something, right?

Or maybe, I need to give myself "grace" as my therapist often says. Weekly ending sessions with, "Be gentle with yourself." And she reminds me of the hard work I'm doing by delving through all of my life's traumas. And maybe this is the season I'm in. A season of working and healing and mothering and teaching. And it's not a season for fiction or poetry or writing. And I think I need to be ok with that. OR, I need to change it.

Instead of mindlessly scrolling Tik Tok or almost compulsively listening to murder mysteries, maybe I could spend some of that time writing. Or maybe my brain needs some time to scroll or to listen. And maybe I don't need to define my writing as anything. Maybe it is my career, my side hustle, my retirement plan. Or maybe it's a hobby or a passion. Or this thing that will help me heal. Or it's something I used to do when I was young.