Can I be honest with you for a second? I’ve been very unhappy with my blog, lately. I haven’t written as much as I’ve wanted to, I haven’t written what I’ve wanted to write, I’ve wanted to write but didn’t know what, and/or I’ve wanted to write but didn’t have time.
I blame my job.
If you didn’t know, at the beginning of the year, I was switched from night shift, to day shift. This doesn’t work for the nigh owl that I am. I get the majority of my inspiration at night. That’s when my brain is most active. But since moving to day shift, I have to sleep when I’m most inspired. This has led me to, well, not writing.
I had a terrible time adjusting. I can’t even describe how miserable I was. I felt trapped. Trapped between feeling inspired, but too tired to write. Needing to do something, but being too drained, both mentally and physically, to move.
While trying to find a balance and any time I could spare to write even a sentence, we entered into the busy season. Working five days at my job, and two day with my mom, didn’t help my underlying struggle for creativity. If I couldn’t write, all I wanted to do was sleep. I was exhausted.
Not only was it a busy season for me, but it was a busy season for her. She packed in a lot of hours at her job. As her health started to decline, I had to do more physical work. One of her jobs is merchandise resets. Have you ever walked into a store and had all of the items in a particular section rearranged? That’s what we do.
As she started to get weaker, I started to do more. Not only was I on my feet for eight hours, I still worked with her for God knows how long. Sometimes from the time I got off of work, till night. Almost every day. It was draining, for the both of us. We really believe her job contributed to her weakened health.
I finally had to ask my boss for an extra day off each week. Mom had to ask her boss for a whole month off. Luckily, we have awesome bosses who are very understanding, and care about us.
Even though I take care of my mother all day, I don’t mind it. I get to take care of her. I love her so much, and I would do anything for her. I will do whatever it takes to get her better.
Who takes care of you, Sarah?
Well, I do. Even though I felt trapped and exhausted, I listened to what my body wanted, and needed, so I wouldn’t get overwhelmed. I did what I needed to, to stay afloat. And here I am, still floating.
I say I blame my job for me not writing, but really, the timing was off. I had set a goal that didn’t work for the time I was in. Now that everything has calmed down, I’m actually in a good place to go back to doing what I was doing.
But, I don’t want to.
You know what I want to do? Rebrand.
I watched a video recently on connecting with readers, and building a platform. One part of that is branding.
It got me thinking.
Who am I?
My name is Sarah, and I’m a writer. Yes, I write. I love to write. This is who I am.
What do I want to write about?
This blog used to be a public diary. A place where I shared things that were happening in my life, or how I felt at certain times, or just thoughts and ramblings. While I don’t want to go back to rambling, I do enjoy sharing personal stories, my thoughts and happenings. I don’t mind writing reviews or how-tos, but at my core, I love sharing stories.
I am a writer. And if I’m a writer, people need to know that. I need to brand myself as such. Right now, who would you say I am? Chances are, you don’t know.
Which is why, starting in October, I’m “rebranding” myself. I’m not going to change what I do, but I am going to change how I do it. I’m going to go back to what makes me happy.
What does this rebranding look like?
Well, first off, my goal is to post more (at least four posts a month, like I used to). I’d like to post more writing stuff, even if it’s just one thing a month (which is more than what I’ve been doing).
Other than that, maybe I’ll rebrand my newsletter. But let’s not get ahead of ourselves. One thing at a time.
I am the CEO of my career. My corporation of one. While blogging is in no way going to be my job, writing is. One day. But that one day might be today. Or tomorrow. Because I procrastinate.
I feel inspired to make one room in my house my corporation office. At my “fake” job. I want to turn this into the most dramatic, outlandish spectacle that I can think of.
“Alright, Mom, I have to go to my second job,” I say as I walk downstairs.
Ok, I may be going just a tad bit overboard, but in some crazy way, I’m being serious. Mission statement and all.