Sometimes I just suck at following through. Remember January, when I was super-jazzed about writing 20,000 words in a single month and feeling on the top of the world, mastering my goals and getting shit done? It’s been two full months since I’ve written anything of consequence—proposal documents for the Maker’s Nation board of directors don’t really count—and I’ve been feeling tense, stressed, and overwhelmed. You know what, though? It’s okay that I haven’t been writing. It’s okay to fail at your goals, and it’s okay when things ebb and flow.
Oscillation and undulation are in the very nature of the work I do, and these past two months have been especially hectic in the world of Isaac’s projects. Some of them have suffered because of it, and some of it I bring upon myself. Should I have taken on a new client or underestimated the time requirements of a volunteer project I signed onto? Maybe, maybe not. But I’m finally feeling like I’m getting back on track and back in control of what I work on and how I approach it.
Busy-ness aside, one thing has become abundantly clear—writing is a critical part of my life that does wonders to helping me feel balanced. It seemed contradictory at first, but I feel like had I made the time to write regularly (even once a week), these last two months might have been more manageable and less stressful. Even with everything I have going on, taking an hour or two out of my week to write something—anything—is the single best thing I can do to stay centered.
Today, I’m re-centering myself with this these 328 little words. I’m recommitting to the Year of Writing (don’t worry, the Year of Debt Reduction is still moving right along) and recommitting to myself. I owe it to myself, I owe it to my projects, and I owe it to my people. Write more.