Hey, remember when I called myself a writer? I don’t.
The other day I got an email out of the blue from an old friend who was briefly my editor when I wrote for Creature Corner. Last time we talked, Will and I were shopping DOGS OF WAR. And oh my, a lot has changed since then. Like how we stopped writing screenplays. And we don’t write together lately (we did put together a comic book pitch a few months ago, but it didn’t go anywhere). And Will is writing novels. And I don’t write at all unless you count my column or this blog.
Not writing feels like this huge part of my identity has just been rubbed out.
Compounding the problem is the feeling of utter aloneness I’ve had lately. Friends have asked me to do non-playdate things with them exactly twice all year. Tim took me to a concert for my birthday, and Morgan took me to dinner when she was in town after Comic Con. And frankly, I don’t get asked on many kid dates either–but when people do ask me to do things, it’s in my capacity as a mom.
Everyone urges mothers to not lose their identity. But no one ever mentioned that my identity might be taken away. I feel that I am only thought of as a parent by most of the people I interact with. Will pointed out that most of the people I know now didn’t know me before. Which is depressing as all hell because that means they didn’t know me when I was skinny. Yes, that is incredibly shallow of me. No, I am–sadly–not really joking.
(Incidentally, I immediately emailed a friend who is also a mother and asked her out for a no-kids cocktail. It was wonderful.)
So I got this email from Dave, who knew me when I was skinny and not a mother and still writing. And he asked what I’m up to. And I told him, and he was shocked. Mostly by the fact that I write knitting patterns. And I’m not in any way ashamed of that–I seriously love designing–but it’s such a wholly different identity than the one I had just four or five years ago, and I’m not sure how it happened.
But I need to find time.
How do I do that? Other than putting the kids in school/care, which I won’t do.