Over the last month, I’ve thought of about fifty things I wanted to write about. But didn’t. Because I’d promised myself to post daily in December, and I made it halfway through, before I let the incomplete deadline freeze me in horror as priorities shifted, work volume increased, and the holidays descended in glorious chaos and kerfuffle.
So I’m back writing, but not about any of those fifty things. I’m not going to back up and finish the month of daily posts. I’m going to let it go, passing on imperfectly.
Instead I’m just going to sit here for a minute, viscerally uncomfortable about that, and think about it. About how that feels like the hardest thing in the world for me sometimes.
About how the harder thing isn’t always to keep going no matter what, but to realize when it makes much more sense to let something go, and do it.
To appreciate that I write to a deadline literally all day every day, and so perhaps doing more of that was not what I needed for fun.
To appreciate that it was a useful experiment that taught me some interesting things.
To move on. To remember to let myself do more of what feels right. And to do it.
Like remembering some of my favorite words, apt here:
Quo vadimus? Ad maiora.