Every morning, no matter how late he had been up, my father rose at 5:30, went to his study, wrote for a couple of hours, made us all breakfast, read the paper with my mother, and then went back to work for the rest of the morning. Many years passed before I realized he did this by choice, for a living, and that he was not unemployed or mentally ill. – Anne Lamott, Bird by Bird
As a professional creative who works at home, it took months to convince myself that I wasn’t unemployed or mentally ill. Before heading into the studio, I would shower, shave, and get dressed as if I were going into a “real” office where I would be seen by “real” clients. It was my wife Katie who convinced me that I was missing out on one of the great benefits of the creative lifestyle is working in my pajamas until almost noon, taking long, leisurely showers in the middle of the day, and shaving when I get around to it.
What matters is the work. I am creating, I am selling, I am happy. That’s less important to some people, who would be more comfortable if I were clean cut, wore a suit, punched a clock, drove a Lexus. They think my problem is that I’m weird, while I’m starting to realize that my problem is that I’m not weird enough.
You’re doing something you love and living your life. That’s certainly not mentally ill.
And while I am relatively clean cut, wear that business casual (no suit, thankfully!), punch a clock and drive . . . well, a Mazda, those people who wouldn’t be comfortable with what you are doing would probably feel them same with me. I’ve prioritized family over money. We have enough material stuff (a home–small though it may be–and a car), and even better than a Lexus or a cruise, we have fun and a lot of love.
Prioritizing money over that? Who’s mentally ill now, eh?
I grok, Fraser.
We’re getting to the point where the money is uncomfortably thin, so we occasionally have to move that priority up a notch. I want a nice balance so, so my wife and I can both be full-time creatives and not have white-knuckle terror over the rent or car repairs.
A difficult thing to put the worries out of ones head. I grock that one every day.