3/100 of emotional badassery : In which we practice self-compassion

Damned day three!...
Just three days ago exactly, I was reading an Instagram post from one of my beloved writers, Elizabeth Gilbert. Her 10 tips for writing that I highly recommend. No. 9 hit me right in the gut, heart and throat at the same time. 
 
“Every writer starts the same place on Day One : Super excited, and ready for greatness. On Day Two, every writer looks at what she wrote on Day One and hates herself. What separates working writers from non-working writers is that working writers return to their task on Day Three. What gets you there is not pride but mercy. Show yourself forgiveness, for not being good enough. Then keep going ❤️”
 
Because I am on Day Three, I am going to let her do some of the writing here. 
Because I am on Day Three, of course, my life was chaotic, painful and swirling, and didn’t seem to leave me any room to write. I had to steal it and feel rude and selfish about it.
Because I am on Day Three, is was excruciating to come back, and I’m actually stunned I’m even writing. 
 
On Day Two, the self-hating bit was not so much about Day One, that I’m still quite fond of, even if it lost (of course) some of its spark. It was about the sluggishness of Day Two. Oh boy, do I hate the sluggishness that comes with those days. Spoiler alert : they come back in a cycle. The spark of inspiration and being prepared for greatness. The coming back to Earth and realizing it wasn’t as good as we remembered it, or worse, it was just as good, but now we’ve lost it. And then the awful, gut-wrenching, soul-sucking sluggishness. 
 
Although, and I’m guessing here that it’s also what happened to her : I now know from experience it’s okay. I get to be not good enough for my own standards. That I probably will never be even. It’s just part of the nakedness that comes with creating. I’ve felt it with each and every medium I’ve ever tried for long enough. So I’m actually even a bit proud to still be here, in a snuggly blanket, at 2:36 am, with a hot herbal tea and a slice of chocolate tart. Because sometimes, treats get to be love tokens. 
 
Because it’s Day Three, self-compassion was a matter of survival and sanity. 
So I’m writing in the middle of the night instead of the “8pm for the latest” rule set on Day One, when my Muse (her name is Denise) and I were on our mini honeymoon. 
So I will not stay long on the page, at least I was here. 
So I vow to not proofread myself, because I would butcher those words until I’m on the verge to cry. And probably not post them if I do. 
 
And I will add a little love letter to my inner child, so it’s easier to come back for Day Four :
My Darling, we’ve made it. Day Three has come, and we showed up. Liz told us that means we are working writers. Can you imagine that? 
We get to not be perfect, because we showed up and kept our promise. We will post late but we will post. Now let’s look for a picture that will offer us the softness we need right now, and let’s go watch something to remind us of the beauty of the world. We need a lot of beauty today. 
I love you so much, see you tomorrow.
 
PS : I ended up proofreading here and there, little touches, and quit before falling into the rabbit hole. Who knows I could do this? (I didn't)
 
Photo by Nahil Naseer on Unsplash
 
 
Laetitia

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