Life has shredded my word count

Hi. *takes deep breath* This post is the most writing I have done in two weeks. This is very unusual for me. 

The reason? Stuff has happened. Namely, university. (And it's great so far, by the way. Just in case you were wondering. I haven't gotten severely lost yet, which is wonderful. I might do a post next week about my experiences so far, so hang in there with the questions.) 

FYI not a tattoo, just plain old ink.

I'm beginning to remember how life can happen. And when life happens, my word count disappears into a little hole in the ground, pulls a pillow over its head and wails like a small child who's recently dropped the cone of their favourite ice cream (chocolate, by the way). (It also has a little tantrum like Anakin Skywalker when people tell him what to do. (Pick your favourite simile and go with it.))

Have you ever heard the phrase "writers write"? The point is that you are a writer if you write. The end. You don't need a fancy badge or degree or published book to be a writer, which I absolutely love. 

But can I be a writer if I'm not writing right now? 

My mind is filled with to-do lists and math, of pre-reading checklists and timetables. I'm not thinking about my writing. I'm not thinking about my blog, about reading. I have other things to think about right now, but that doesn't mean I'm giving up with my dream of being an author. 

I'm still a writer. I'm just not writing today. I probably won't write tomorrow. And my identity as a writer is going to change as I transition through life, but just because I'm going through a busy time in life doesn't mean that I can just drop part of my identity. 

Does life ever eat your word count? Have you had to give up something you love when life gets busy?