Creating my own space has been challenging. Physically and mentally, I have been dredging the trenches. Prep work sucks. I have combed through and cleared out the clutter of negativity and stress.
Mentally preparing myself to write words that will be read by others has proved to be daunting. Adding layers to my emotional walls has taxed all my resources, but I am ready.
At least until the first critique. Fear of tears, sobbing and peeing my pants constantly plague me when I think about this. This will call for some repair work to those emotional barriers.
The physical preparations are much easier. I can control them. For the most part.
A few months ago, my oldest child moved out of the house. So, I took possession of her room. It was fair game, as far as I was concerned. The idea was to convert her room into my private writing sanctuary.
Although, before I could start the demo, my Realistic-Minded Hubby wrenched the sledgehammer from my hands and crushed my dream with it. Here’s what went down.
Hubby: “Jen……She may move back home.”
Me (Blank Stare): “…………” Bubble busted. Mission Aborted. Thanks, Debbie Downer.
After some pouting, I agreed that it was smart to keep the room as guest room. I love my daughter and would welcome her home, in a heart beat. (And a rental contract.)
All of this meant, I needed another plan. The current office I use now, has a certain open air quality (AKA: The Dining Room), but my patience was running low and I was tired of picking crumbs off the bottom of my laptop.
Fast forward a few months….
I am two days away from having the cabinets and desk installed. My own space is almost ready. I sat back, staring into the emptiness, soon to be My Cloffice.
Five years of memories swirled around, coating the walls with history. This space has transformed. My daughter’s old hoodies, prom dresses and high school year books were now safely stored in another part of the house. Our suitcases, storage boxes and forgotten home décor were donated or found another niche in our master closet.
With my Cloffice plans moving forward, I yearn for a sign that I am doing the right thing. Something to confirm that my dreams aren’t silly or selfish. I sit and write. Running my daily mental marathon. Trying to outrun realistic doubts.
There is no way I can give up now. So, I accept any doubts as a challenge. My pride pushes (or pulls) me strive ahead.
P.S Stay tuned…..next week, I may have a Cloffice Sneak Peek.