Switching

I’ve always switched between interests. When I beat myself up over it, it never ends well. Different parts of my life need attention at different times—health, family, creative writing, cinema and film, food and cooking, playing a musical instrument, learning another language, software development—when I neglect one, it invariably comes up as a desire in some shape or form sooner or later, and ignoring that intuitive reminder is when the trouble starts.

I can be too rigid around these identities. If I’m not writing, I’m not a writer. Not helpful. Life is much more interesting and complicated than that. I write in my notebook every day. I cook meals for myself and my family every day. I manage a software team in a full-time job. It’s not like in those Richard Scarry books about what adults do all day. We are not the jobs we do, and I can’t believe I need to remind myself of the trap, but it’s been in the back of my mind most of my life.

We can be everything we want to be, perhaps swimming more in the shallows than getting out into the deep water for most things, and for me, that is a healthy space to be creatively.

I know why I beat myself up over the writing for so long. It took the reality of being published (Nobody cares! There’s no money for writers! It’s a racket for the publishing industry!) and then my father slowly dying to break the narrative in my head.

We can only do one thing at a time and there’s a cost to switching. That’s true. We are also complex beings that thrive on making connections between things. A meal I make might find its way into a story I’m writing. While practicing guitar, a solution to a coding problem might pop into my head.

Intuition doesn’t care what you’re doing. It connects. When I put down fixed ideas of success and pay attention in all areas of my life, everything becomes easier. The internal drama dissolves. I feel calmer, the whole is clearer, and everything is more meaningful and fun.