I almost didn’t share anything on this space today. Almost being the operative word. I wish I could blame that on the traditional existential angst that often accompanies Mondays. No, this wasn’t a case of the Monday blues. I had a pretty chilled weekend and both Manchester United and Lewis Hamilton won over the weekend so unlike most Monday’s before I was in a good mood. The day itself started off positively and I set about to attack the day with much fanfare and vigour. But through all that positivity I hadn’t made a plan as to what I was going to write about today and when, as I have previously done. I thought I would just wing it. I was wrong, because halfway through the day I and managed to talk myself out of writing. Or so I thought.
Earlier when I had resigned myself to not writing for this blog it was mainly because I didn’t feel I had anything meaningful, informative or even insightful to share today. So I told myself I would put it off until tomorrow when hopefully I would have something more tangible to work with. But here I am writing. Why? Because the internal guilt of not writing today proved to be too much of a burden to bear than say writing about nothing in particular. And so here I am succumbing to my own guilt. If I had gone through with the decision to give myself an unscheduled ‘off day’ it would have been the first time in three weeks that I wouldn’t have shared anything on this blog on week day. Three weeks ago I set about on a journey to write as consistently as possible. The aim is to write every week day for six weeks. Only after six weeks would I reevaluate and set new goals for my writing. But here I was halfway through that journey patting myself on the back and haggling with myself. Prior to today I was doing OK. I was focused. I was motivated and I was following through almost effortlessly on my personal goals. I was comfortable in my routine and I never plan for days like today when that carefully crafted routine would be challenged. Even though I knew there would be days like this I never planned for that eventuality and I almost broke that routine.
When I was making the case to myself for taking the day off my reasoning was that I deserved it for the consistency that I have shown over the last three weeks, even though it was not part of the plan. Today being a Monday it would not have just been a day of though. It would have been my third consecutive day off taking into account my scheduled weekend off. It was the worst possible day to even consider taking off. It was a slippery slope that I was about to let myself go down. The more I thought about this the more I didn’t trust myself not to end up on some unintended sabbatical from this space. It’s not too long that ago that I remember struggling a great deal to get back into writing after I had let my pen fall asleep on the page for too long. It’s so easy to break the routine, but so much harder to start all over again. And it usually starts with rationalising that it’s just one day and before you know it a day turns into a week, and a week into months.
Whilst I am proud of and acknowledge the work and the progress I’ve made to get to three weeks I am not going to rest on my laurels just yet. I set a goal for myself to write consistently for at least six weeks and that is what I intend to do, even if on days like today its means writing about nothing. It is also a realisation that not all days are going to be the same and that days like this are the ones I allow myself to grow. It also means I am slowly mustering the willpower to do things I know I have to even though I might not always feel like it. And even though at times today it felt easier not, it always feels so much better to have written.
On the days you don’t feel like writing those are the days that it’s even more important to write. A luta continua. The struggle continues.