I made a mistake.

At the time it felt like the right thing to do. But there are days where I wish I could turn back time and make a different decision.

Ever been there?

I started teaching preschool when my youngest daughter started preschool. I loved working with little ones, and the job allowed me to earn some money, yet always be home when my kids were home. I could carve out time to write, so I was content.

After my husband’s sudden job loss, I quickly realized I needed to contribute more financially. I crammed in enough graduate classes to renew my teaching certificate and went back to my first career of being an elementary music teacher.

So much had changed during my absence from the public school setting. New technology. New curriculum. New behavior issues. I wanted to be a good wife and mom, so by the time I cooked and cleaned and spent time with the kids, it was bed time, yet I still had to formulate lessons and choreograph musicals. It was like I was a first-year teacher all over. I had no time to write, so I was not content.

As the end of the school year approached, I was exhausted, overwhelmed, and grumpy. I was careful not to gripe at work, so my poor husband heard it all. He had a job by then and told me I should regain my mental health (and probably preserve his) by writing full-time instead of returning to my school in the fall.

You often hear, “do what you love.” It sounded heavenly. So I did. We created a business where I could edit, write life-stories for others, and keep writing my books.

If there weren’t such things as unexpected expenses, or kids who always seem to need something, we probably could have made it. But after about four months we started realizing “do what you love” should really be “do what you love on the side unless you’re rich.”

I went back to work mid-year, but with a hefty pay cut. (And if it is a pay cut from a teacher’s salary, you know that hurts.)  I have learned that I need to find a balance between being practical and feeding my passion. My house may not always be spotless, and some of the meals I cook are not gourmet, but I will squeeze time to write into my schedule. My books take longer to finish. (I’m just now completing the edits on a young adult novel that I cranked out during my months of freedom, but then got put on hold. But I am completing it.)

So the wiser version of me faces the reality that the bills still have to be paid, but I will not shove my passion out the window. So my mirrors may have smudges on them—but you can see a smiling face in the reflection.