Part of the reason I have struggled to “find time” to work on my art projects is simply because I have given it that title: find time. Well, that’s a big, steamy pile of poo. It’s a crappy human construct we continually allow ourselves to be tricked by.
If you want to get serious about something, you have to make time. Intentionally schedule it. Rope it off. Learn to say no. Say no a lot.
It’s not easy. Everyone wants a piece of your day. Kids, dogs, co-workers, spouses, friends. And they all need (and deserve) a little of your time, but not at such a cost it leaves you depleted. Exhausted. Resentful. No time to do much else but feel mad and sorry for yourself during that brief period of time between your head hitting the pillow and falling asleep.
And then there are distractions. Phone calls. The constant ding or buzz of texts and email. The mail lady honking her horn in your yard because she doesn’t want to walk all the way to the door to leave your dumb package. You hear something crash in the kitchen. The wood stove needs another chunk of wood. That flipping woodpecker won’t stop banging on the side of the house no matter how many times you pound the window or run outside in your socks to scare it away.
There are days I feel like Pavlov’s dog.
But I think that when you start demanding your own time, things fall into place. It gets easier to ignore the distractions. People figure out you are serious and they start respecting your time. Especially if you close the door.
A few things will pile up (dishes, laundry, etc.) but in the big scheme of things, does that really matter? If someone needs food, they’ll clean a pan to cook it.