I am astonished at how fast time flies.
It seems only yesterday that I was bidding farewell to my parents, gleefully watching that cab disappear down the street and yet here we are; the end of August with only days remaining before their imminent arrival.
I’ve thoroughly enjoyed my time during these precious last few weeks. Feeling mighty independent, going about my day on my own accord, not concerned about petty arguments over my comings and goings or just my choice of life in general.
I’ve had time for more soul searching too and with it I realize that I do not want them to return because selfishly, I do not want to continue with this farce. I am no longer ‘ok’ masking who I am and what I do. Hiding away as if my decision to become a freelance writer is in par with that of a serial murderer. And I understand they may be fearful for me for this choice I made isn’t lucrative enough or something but still, having to veil this part of my life from them by pretending to be working a typical 9-5 job has taken it’s toll on me and it was a toll I hadn’t even realized was doing me damage, both physically and mentally.
The first two weeks after their departure I understood just how exhausted I’d been from running around, trying to keep this frivolous charade in check. And then how unhappy I’d truly been. Their absence has left feeling so much more liberated and calmer, but most importantly being able to muscle away quietly on my work has shown me that what I am doing is right.
Because writing makes me happy. It is something that comes to me naturally, especially story telling since my entire life has been spent in my head, making ‘movies’. I know I have a gift and I know this is a gift that is built into my DNA. My grandfather loved to read and write as did his father and who knows, perhaps his father too and so forth. This isn’t some random hobby; this is my calling in life and I know it will lead me to greatness.
My parents will never understand nor approve. Not even the day I tell them, “oh, I forgot. I’ll be on TV tonight being interviewed for this project I’ve been working on,” and they’ll probably still think I’m a loser and need to get a real job. Maybe when my published novel reaches number one on the New York Times Best Sellers List maybe they’ll get it or maybe they won’t. But, I don’t care. Their opinion stopped mattering to me a long time ago and now all that matters is my own.
For now, I’ll continue to count down the days whilst making the most of each one. Enjoying the extra thirty minute sleep-ins, waking to my puppy dogs cheerful face and propping myself on the couch with my mug of coffee, opening up my laptop and fiercely continuing to work on my blog and manuscript.