I am not sure what I want to write about. I feel a little bit tapped out of inspiration.
I spend a lot of time writing this week, and today.
For this project, and for sharing it and more of my stuff on Instagram.
I’m a little stunned, kind of dizzy right now.
I’ve never spent so many hours in a row writing before. A whole week of sustainable and committed writing.
A few sessions of several hours. Wow. I almost cannot believe I actually did that.
Sure, I set up a little calendar for myself in my notes, but part of me never expected to respect it fully.
And yet, here I am.
And you know what? It felt so. Hecking. Awesome.
After this week, I can say, without a shadow of a doubt, I’m (also) a writer.
This is now one of the things I love and do.
Sure, not many people are reading me, but honestly, who cares? I even need the anonymity to experiment fully and freely what it all means to me right now.
It had a cost though. Because I never wrote as much, and still had some external commitments, I sacrificed my self care. I didn’t really do it voluntarily, but it often happens when I implement big things in my life.
Of course, the dream would be that every big change I make is implemented smoothly in my current structure. No sacrifice, just naturally getting up earlier, make space, and do all the new things I want to do. But that’s not how it works. At least, that’s not how it works for me.
For me, each new big iteration to my life system shakes the whole thing up for a while. Usually, self care takes a major hit for a few days. Since I do a lot of it, it’s not really a big deal though. But it’s clearly unsustainable as is.
And you know what? That’s ok. Sustainability cannot always be a priority. Sometimes, the priority is to find the strength to do what matters the most to us, the best we can. And sometimes, that best means that for a while, life gets really messy and unsustainable.
That’s what I meant the other day when I talked about balance being both bullshit and fundamental.
This week, self-care was at its minimal. I did yoga only twice. I meditated everyday, but a lot of days, for a couple of minutes only. I journaled thrice, only twice as long as usual. All things I normally do everyday.
Heck, I even forgot to shower sometimes and wouldn’t have eaten if my down-from-heaven partner didn’t cook.
That’s how much I was absorbed in my writing. And committed.
Am I planning to do this that way next week? Absolutely not.
I was already this morning back to my full daily routine, so delighted to get that space back.
I also don’t plan to do as much writing anyway. This week was special anyway, launching the new challenge of 30 days of Kleon, so dear to my heart.
I also have more external commitments next week, so time won’t be on my side as much. New experiment coming through.
But it was important to me to do this, I needed to know how it felt in my body to write a few hours a day for a while. If it felt right.
And it so does.
Like those times I sacrificed so much to paint like a crazy person.
Or those times I spent reading and learning so much at University and in conferences I lost track of a lot of things too.
Let’s call this week Writing boot camp, and see what the next will bring with it.