The Trials of a Chameleon

My days are often over before I am even aware they have begun.
It's so frustrating. The thing is, I am a very introverted person caught in an extrovert's life. It's tiring and my creative mind is having difficulty working properly under so much stress. No. I cannot back off. Years ago I decided my sons would not be hindered by my quirky, hermit self. We are booked most nights of the week and now that Scouting has started for this school year, we are also booked most weekends.
It's overwhelming when I want to be my writer self.
As a teenager I would go out on nice autumn days and stretch out on a large tree that had fallen across a creek and just lie there and daydream and think. After awhile I would go in and begin writing. Or, if I didn't fall asleep on the log first, I would hop down and curl up against a hollowed out tree and write in my journal.
These days are over.
I have become hyperactive. It is very difficult for me to even just sit and watch a movie and do nothing else. There are days when it finally becomes too much and I will just sit in the shower and cry. That sounds so horribly girly, but cut me some slack. I only cry for a minute or two before I realize such silliness doesn't accomplish anything, then I pull myself up by my bootstraps and trudge on.
What's the point? Who cares? The gals who have read Filter care. They want to read the second book and I am trying to write it not from my practical mind but from my creative mind. Good grief, maybe I should change my pen name to Sybil. Thing is, it takes a lot of time to slip away, for the worries of the day to melt into the background, to stop thinking about reviews and the bills I can't pay because I'm not selling enough books and how I should really just get a real job with a steady paycheck and benefits. I'm good out there in the business world, in the world of broadcast journalism....but I am also a dreamer, a drifter, a bit of a flake. I'm kind of like Madonna, only with stronger morals and more clothes and sans the personal trainer. I can redefine myself to fit the moment. But now, with writing becoming my job...I find that the practical and creative sides of my worlds have crashed together.
How to be one and the other all at once?

Happy New School Year!

If I seem distant, don't take it personally.
During the school year I morph into personal assistant to three grade schoolers.
I spend my days researching curriculum and finding good reads to supplement their lackluster
public education, making worksheets to drill math facts into their head, figuring out what they need to finish up their requirements for this year's Scout badges....and on and on. O and it's time for me to return to teaching Bible study to teen girls on Wednesday nights. And there's forcing my son to practice his piano and taking him to piano....
It's been really difficult to get any work done. My days are so choppy. Get up, get the boys up, pack their lunches, break up squabbles, take two to one school and the other to the upper elementary school, go home, write for an hour before my husband wakes up. Spend time with him, read while I wait for his call as he's driving to work, work at writing or marketing for another two hours, pick the one boy up and then the other two and then go to the library to get their homework done. The evenings are varied. Church class on Monday nights. Scouts on Tuesdays. Church Wednesdays. NOTHING on Thursday. I love Thursdays. And then Fridays...every other Friday I have to get them ready to meet their dad and then I go home and try to get more work done.
Blech.
Most nights I have passed out around 10 or 10:30. I finally broke down and bought some Zyrtec, hoping that will help take the edge of my allergy issues and therefore maybe give me some energy.  I can't get anything done. Except for laundry and laundry and dishes and tending the ducks and watering the garden because we're in the middle of a drought.
For those of you who bought my book last month, if you're reading this, thank you. Back to school month is always difficult financially speaking and, because of you, I could put gas in my car without having to bum money of my husband. Not that he minds but still....thank you.