Rediscovering Myself

I never intended to take a year off from writing.  It wasn't a calculated decision; documented in a planner or calendar.  In fact, for the first nine months of my unplanned sabbatical, I chastised myself daily for NOT writing.  I felt guilty and ashamed; that I was letting not only myself down but also those who believed in me.  Oh, I dabbled here and there with my WIP.  Stared at the screen for hours on end, willing the words to come, typing half-heartedly only to scrap my drivel before giving up for the day, carefully considering the notion that my extremely short career as an author might be at an end.

Then, a few months ago, I released those feelings, setting worthlessness and doubt and insecurity aside, embracing that I was exactly where I was supposed to be.  My soul was in desperate need of nurturing; of self-care that I'd neglected for far too long.  I have this issue of only feeling worthy-useful-needed if I'm producing, so I'd said "yes" to every opportunity that came my way even though I was already over-burdened.  I even went so far as to seek out new ventures in addition to creating new ones myself.

"It's only once a month," I'd reason.  "It's only twice a week."  "It's only every other day."  "It's only..."

I suffocated my soul with "It's onlys", effectively snuffing out my creative spark in the process, dousing my joy for writing.  I take full responsibility.  It's all on me.  Thankfully, I recognized my error before I completely self-destructed and began scaling back, withdrawing from obligations (not bailing - I spoke directly to those with whom I'd made commitments and explained the situation) and focusing on repairing the damage I'd done to my spirit.  I rediscovered activities that I loved - baking, gardening, caring for animals, basking in Nature's glory.  The weight I'd been carrying for those first nine months lifted, the guilt over not publishing a promised book evaporating.

It's still in me, that story.  And, it'll get written and published, as will the next one, and the one after that, and the one after that, and so on.  Not on the timeline originally planned.  That's come and gone.  But the words will emerge from my fingertips because that spark I thought I'd extinguished...well, it turns out an ember survived. It's glowing softly, waiting for me to add kindling and stoke it into a fiery passion.

Soon.

The cracks in my soul are almost healed, the integrity of my spirit stronger than before.  My joy for crafting and creating is returning; I find myself smiling as a plot twist or line of dialogue flits through my mind.  I needed this - this unintentional break.  No excuses.  No judgment.  Just being who I am where I am at this moment.       

My Definition of Success

According to multiple dictionary sources, Success is defined as:

a) the accomplishment of one's goals; 
b) the attainment of wealth, favor, or eminence; or 
c) a person or thing that has had success, as measured by attainment of goals, wealth, etc.  

In my opinion, there should be an option d).  None of the above.

I realized not too long ago that, up until this point, I've been applying the word 'success' to my life all wrong; focusing on the goal part of option A instead of the accomplishment part.  You see, my goal when it comes to my career is to earn a comfortable income.  Hitting a list isn't necessary (though I wouldn't turn it down if it happened), but supporting our household, taking the weight off of my husband's shoulders, that's my idea of success.  And I've yet to reach that point.

So, in the face of utter despair, I began to reevaluate. 

The way I view my life is subjective.  The whole 'glass half full/empty' thing.  I can choose to feel unsuccessful because my monthly royalties wouldn't cover the cost of our electric bill, or I can look at what I've accomplished in the past six years.  Sixteen books published.  A podcast with increasing listenership.  Connections in the literary world and friendships that'll last a lifetime.  If that's not the definition of Success (yes, I capitalized it.  It deserves to be, don't you think?) I don't know what is. 

It'd be easy to get bogged down by what I haven't done, or all of the things I'm not, or the attempts I've made that have failed, or the goals I've yet to reach...
 
but I'd rather not.
 
Instead, today and every day to come, I'll proudly shout from the rooftops, "I'm a success!"  For taking chances; for not giving up when the answer is "no"; for finding ways around obstacles that threaten to deter me.  For digging myself out from under the myriad of negative garbage that I toss at myself on a regular basis.   For not believing my inner voice when it tells me I'm not good enough.  For every single accomplishment I've made up until this point.  

That is the definition of success in my dictionary!