Am I a little upset that I haven’t posted for a few weeks?
Yeah, I am.
Am I upset that I am upset?
A little, yeah.
The ready-to-go narrative in my brain is that missing a few weeks makes me a failure and a disappointment. That…feels like an exaggeration. And seems especially silly considering I have no loyal readers and this blog is a hobby. Meaning, there are absolutely no repercussions for not posting for a few weeks.
Except for the fact that I made a commitment to myself to post every week. Missing a few weeks means I broke a promise. Writing is a creative expression but it is a muscle, too, and muscles must be used in order to grow. I told myself it was time to grow that muscle and that one way I could practice it is to regularly post to my blog. That intention was a promise—it was a commitment. I feel bad when I break commitments I make to other people; should it not mean the same to break promises on my own behalf? I think it should.
That’s been a recent theme of mine—working on holding the commitments I make to myself.
It is so easy to make a decision, a plan, a promise and then to let it fall flat merely because there is no other person counting on my word. It is only me; where are the stakes there?
“Today has been hard and I really want to get a treat after work today,” I may tell myself on my lunch break. When heading-home time rolls around, the tune has switched: “Yeah, a treat would be nice, but that sounds like a lot of work. I’m just going to head home.”
Or, perhaps: “I am going to spend more time reading and will use reading to help me wean from all the free time I spend on my phone.” Yes! Perfect! And that energy lasts for a few days and then all of a sudden, I reach for my phone again instead of my books. Soon, the momentum is lost and the will to read is gone. Still, the intention lurks in the back of my mind, tainting my time, leaving me feeling guilty as I scroll. It is a blow from all sides—scrolling my phone does not enrich my mind and the guilt from my choice eats at my soul. The evening gains a sour flavor.
These little examples are indicative of a larger trend. Small items themselves, hardly worth more than a glance. Innocuous, each one, but when put together they show my tendency to shy from the ideas I have that I know will enrich my life.
A sweet little treat makes the creeping darkness of the world bank for a few minutes. Picking up a book and getting lost in the creativity of a stranger is a clearer route to joy for me than doomscrolling for an hour. Finding an event I want to go to and actually going to the event opens the door to gaining new experiences and meeting new people. Taking the time to clean out my fridge clears out my mind a little bit, odious as starting the task can feel. Vacuuming the living room makes sitting on the carpet during late-night chats just a little more comfortable. Each one of these is by itself a passing moment in a fleeting day, but they add onto one another. Our lives are comprised of moments. The way we spend moments is the way we spend out lives.
It is so easy to think of things I want (or need) to do and to add them to my mental To-Do List. Unfortunately, it is also easy to remove them from the list when they begin to feel like they require too much energy. It is only me who wanted to do those things, after all, so dropping them is not so hard. Writing and blogging are cursed by the same. Enriching; soul-filling; life-giving. Necessary to practice to strengthen the muscle. Yet, it is so easy for the follow-through to drip away until the intention is a mere wisp, swallowed effortlessly by my guilt at my lack of action.
That no longer sits well with me. I do not want my life to be pockmarked by guilt for un-kept promises to myself. The moments I let slip away are moments I want. The reasons to let them slip away seem flimsy when I think of it like that. I have allowed myself to lose what I want because…why? I am tired? Things takes work? So does living. So does loving. So does just about everything worth doing.
I can put in that work. I can do what I promise to myself, put in the same effort for myself that I offer to other people. Writing consistently and posting consistently is part of that. Buying the little treats that call to me is part of that. Actually getting off my phone and getting lost in more books is part of that. Cleaning my house a little more consistently is part of that, too.
The “failure and disappointment” narrative does not need to stay, not when there is a much better one at hand. I want to take advantage of this life—I do not want to waste a second of it. I want to follow through on my promises to myself because that is part of making the most of my life. The resulting intention to do better for myself in the face of broken promises gets to be enough of a repercussion for those broken commitments—I need not continue adding guilt to the pile. I want to do better, so I will. I want to be more intentional with my time and my actions, so I will; I will do the things that enrich my life, the things I told myself I would do. I will fill my life with the things I want and I will follow through. It gets to be that simple.
