Today, a day of surrender. No writing, no struggling to find time to write. Just a day of being present with my kiddo and doing stuff together. We were both so happy for it. I cooked a great dinner and I didn’t run off to the library. Sometimes it feels good to wave the white flag.
(Post 104 of 365)
Here I am again, writing in the evening. I prefer early morning. Fresh start, clear mind, hot cup of coffee. But my family demands my clear mind and efficient hands during those first early hours, and I’m coming to accept that mornings aren’t mine right now. It ends up feeling like a battle, and I need to choose peace. So I’m raising my white flag. I surrender to writing at night with my tired brain.
The upside: twenty days ago, when I began this project, I would get panicky if I hadn’t written during the day. What if I couldn’t come up with something? I’ve learned, just twenty days in, that something always comes. It really is as simple as showing up to the page. Granted, the something that comes might be crappy or only a few sentences long. But it comes.
I love this talk with Anne Lamott. Around twenty minutes in, she confesses her fear around starting her next project. Then immediately counters, “take the action, and your insight follows.” She talks about the necessity of carving out time and how it will be inconvenient for the people you love.
It turns out I couldn’t surrender my morning. I made a few grabs at the computer with my lukewarm coffee. I eked out a few sentences between wiping up blueberry yogurt splatter and sucking snot from my wailing toddler’s nose with the Nosefrida that’s missing half its parts.
I couldn’t completely surrender. Nor could I deny my family’s needs. I guess I’m still figuring it out.
*Updated the following afternoon, February 9, 2016.