This week I felt forced to do something ‘unprofessional’. I wrote to the editor of a magazine explaining my inability to meet their deadline. In theory, the print deadline was March. There was, as such, enough time. But I’d had a sleepless night. Our child struggled to settle because of constant coughing. When I’d ‘woken up’, I decided I needed to clear my plate. Post motherhood, I’d already begun limiting the scope of work I could take on because I do have a ‘full-time’ position, even though I work remotely as a freelancer. Having a stable income allowed me to renounce the scarcity mentality that had informed my career. I no longer had to take on anything that paid to mitigate the precariousness of earning a livelihood as a writer. Doing so meant my work rarely feels like a chore and I can approach my assignments with enthusiasm and care. Having an equal partner to boot has meant that I can not only meet deadlines but also get paid on time since he is happy to take care of the hassle of invoicing.

It was not easy for me to acknowledge that I was feeling emotionally and intellectually exhausted. I confessed to the editor that if the deadline was later, I could do the piece but at the moment I didn’t have the bandwidth, especially since we were travelling to India in three days, and I am aware of how ‘present’ I will need to be for our child. It would be in my own interest to maintain a lighter workload. My editor was extremely understanding and forgiving and responded with empathy. I felt suddenly so privileged to be in a position where I could so easily determine what my work-life balance could look like.