Do what you love or love what you do! hmm interesting but still not there. First let me ask you about the context of this inspirational quote. Does it concern your job or can it be applicable to other matters? and yes only a jobless person would ask this question.

Putting aside the real definition of a job as I strongly consider that being a Mom for example, is definitely one; I am just sticking to the basic definition of a job as the work a person performs to earn money. Based on that definition, I’m jobless. Nothing I do earns me money. My hubby is totally ok with it and he surely does his best to support me. But being a freelance himself, sometimes, work isn’t just flowing and therefore money neither. At these moments, I cannot help it but feel miserable and GUILTY. I have a bachelor degree, which is not so useful in a highly competitive ground but I still could manage to get a decent job with a decent REGULAR pay.

At that moment I don’t even think about my condition anymore, in a desperate attempt to not blame everything on it. In other words, I am still questioning to what extent my condition is affecting me. The not-so-bad days always give me the illusion that I am actually feeling normal and therefore completely able to have a full-time job…  and yes, that is definitely an illusion.

« Work hard play hard » they said … #fibromyalgia

So I thought about the « Do what you love part » and the first thing that popped up in my mind is : writing. I love writing since the day I learned to and I must admit that I have no difficulty imagining myself writing books for a living but the reality is always less fun than the fiction considering that the only writing course I ever took was English composition and it made me realize two things about my future as a writer:

  1. The first draft is definitely not the final draft.
  2. I can’t write on demand. My super supportive hubby says it is because I am an artist, I say it is because I don’t have the skills.

So I decided to know if I was actually capable of writing an entire book, that is something else than a journal. I needed a goal, here is my goal and that implies sitting on my desk for more than ten minutes (I might have ADD), dig for my old english composition books in my mother’s basement, dust my Webster’s dictionary down AND stare at my computer for long minutes not knowing which 20 Tips for writing I should read first. I also managed to borrow an old electronic typewriter (I love these things) from my Hubby’s aunt who was delighted to prove that ‘old things’ should be stored in case. In other words, I made someone happy.

That said, I still have no solution for not bringing money home, all I have to do is thank God for the man who tells me everyday « let me help you ». But while I feel totally blessed for that, I don’t know what to do with the Others. When my family asks me why I wouldn’t take a job to help my hubby out or at least to not throw the diploma I worked so hard for. Let’s give them the benefit of finding the right words cause Yes, who would throw a diploma they worked so hard for? Probably a sick person. But this response is not an option since I look nothing like a sick person. Depressed maybe, but not so sick.

So I considered about telling them about the book I am trying to write as my new project but then I confront myself to this process:

  1. The Excitement stage (at least they are glad I’m trying something)
  2. The Complimentary/Supportive stage (« we always thought you were good at writing, you should believe in yourself »)
  3. The Back to Reality stage (« but you should lower your expectations about the outcome and you know, you can write a book while working too, it sometimes takes years to write a book. »)

Either these people abuse of fake diplomacy or I definitely sound like a unrealistic capricious little girl when I say that I want to write a book. Who can blame them, I have a major in Finance and I hate the idea of having a bank account.

However, my closest friend has totally encouraged me to stick to my project and she even said that it was courageous of me to even try. So even though my condition is still kind of taboo between us, she welcomed my decision with open arms and respected the way I live my life without asking questions. At least she didn’t forget that even though I look like I’m wasting precious years of my life, I have not always been an under achiever and I needed that reminder.  In fact, isn’t it what real friends are for?