Be grateful

for every detail because

tenacity

will get you there and

gratitude

will not allow you

to be angry

when you’ve arrived. —Henry Winkler

I’m not always honest. Quite a few years ago, I did a sneaky thing with my local RWA group. I wrote inspirational essays every month. It looked a lot as if I was helping all the members of that group, cheering them on, giving those pep talks, but all the while, secretly, like a little evil sneak I was really helping myself. I should have been ashamed of myself. I wasn’t. I used them.

I use this blog the same way. I tell all who read my blog the story of my writing struggle. I give details about writer’s block, feeling low; I give pep talks and tell about things that work for me. I want to show, as do many writers, by the way. (There are a million writer blogs-amazing numbers of good ones, too)my journey. I don’t have a ton of followers, hardly any, in fact. Still, I make myself post regularly. All right, this too, is as much (more) for me as my readers. A terrible confession. Worse is, I have purposely left out, for the most part, the biggest challenge of my writing life.

I’ve left it out for good reason, for personal and family reason, but left it out, I have. I probably would keep leave it out, too, except, last week I went in search for blogs that might address the challenge. I didn’t want to feel so alone. I am caregiver to my 93 (almost 94) year-old mother and a writer. I question, often, if I can face all the pitfalls of publishing as I navigate this jungle of elderly care giving. I wonder if there are others in the same boat. I know there are and wanted to find a few, read how it goes with them, read about another like me.

I found a ton of blogs, but none with the same challenges and I wondered if I wasn’t leaving out one of the most important details of my writing life.

I do not want to spend too much time letting myself feel sorry for myself. I was afraid if I looked too hard at those challenges, I just might. I feel, sometimes, I’ve done that with my illness and think it is better, to just move on as much as possible, other than the history of it as it applies to my writing.

Since my internet search, I’ve thought that, maybe, I might say something that might help someone going through the same thing I am, with similar problems and challenges. I thought how nice it would be if there was a blog that talked honestly about trying to get published while caring for an elderly parent.

I’m trying to be a loving caregiver and every day is a challenge. There isn’t enough time, money, patience and always I must fight against being swamped by frustration, exhaustion and guilt. I have to find a way to take care of my mother with kindness, grace and a kind of Zen attitude.

Mostly, that is a whole lot like accepting my illness. A, it is what it is, acceptance. I have to say to myself, the same words I say when I submit a piece of writing. I did the best I could. It’s not perfect, and that’s all right.