I really suck at carving out time for myself.
I've gotten a ton better at making time for my running. I've practically designated Tuesday & Thursday nights as well as Sunday mornings as Religious Holidays in my house. The fact that I've done so has had awesome results. I've become a much more dedicated runner. More passion has lead to improved ability, and it's paying off on the road. If I was addicted to running before, watch out. I'm approaching a new level.
But thanks to PTA, a job, and three kiddos, I haven't been successful at creating time for the other things I love. I haven't sewn, read, or cooked, baked, or decorated.
My writing has gotten thrown out the window. Writing. Something I adore. Something I find therapeutic has apparently become too self-indulgent for me to partake in. I think a large part of that is because I feel so limited in my scope. I can write about AD/HD for the magazine. I can write about Running on this blog. But if I feel like writing about the sky, a fabulous bottle of wine, or the awesome weekend getaway I took, I have no where.
So at this juncture I throw off the chains and say "to hell with it." This is my blog, my free for all, if I feel like commenting on my circadian rhythms, I'll do it.