A couple nights ago a friend texted me a picture of her notebook—the date of the last time she wrote (January 26th) and then the current date underneath. She said, “sometimes it takes a month to come back to writing.” I sent raised hand and salsa dancing emojis (of course) and then “it’s the coming back that counts.” As soon as I wrote those words, I knew they were for me just as much as they were for her.
The last blog I wrote was in September (gulp). Honestly, I’m not even sure what happened with the fall…and winter. Life, I guess. There are a lot of things that fell by the wayside, that just didn’t get done, that week after week were left on my to-do list. Commitments I didn’t follow through with, projects I didn’t finish, desires I let evaporate. I could write a long list of reasons why the last 5 months have been difficult, but in short, it’s just life.
Everything is cyclical.
On my walk this morning, I walked slowly. I stopped a lot and took pictures of leaves and buds starting to bloom. Spring is coming and with it the reminder that even nature lies dormant for a period of time. But then it comes back.
This isn’t a new revelation or an original one, but it’s obviously a lesson I need to learn again and again. I remember last summer talking with my writing coach about the desire for a consistent practice, and she mentioned something she’d read about meditation—how it’s not about a perfectly empty mind, it’s about noticing when our minds are racing and then bringing ourselves back to awareness. It’s the coming back that counts. The coming back is what carves out new neural pathways and builds new habits (you know, because science).
That reminder from her made a big impact on me at the time. I started being more compassionate with myself and my writing practice, knowing that it didn’t need to be an EVERYDAY thing all the time. I could be gentler. I could let life happen. And I could come back.
But then life, like, really happened.
And I got off track. I noticed. I was (mostly) gentle with myself. But I avoided the coming back part.
Now, in an effort to give myself credit, I haven’t stayed away from everything. From September to December I participated in AWP’s Writer to Writer Mentorship program (and I’ll be attending the AWP Conference in March). I’ve still been writing my morning pages, taking walks, filling my new creative journal (I’m obsessed by the way...more on that later), and I’m about to start another round of Jena Schwartz’s Poetry Dive, which I did in November and LOVED. In the Dive, I ended up writing a number of pieces I was really proud of—not because of how “good” they were but because they felt really good to write.
But I’ve avoided the blog. I’ve written many a brain dump, many a list of possible blog topics, but they never manifested into action. I wanted to start writing the blog again, but coming back felt hard. This blog is more “public” than my other writing, and even though those of you reading this are mostly people who know me and support me (hi mom), coming back still required me to admit to you that I faltered. It required me to admit to you that (shocker) I’m not perfect.
Sitting here right now, it doesn’t feel easier. I feel shitty that I stayed away for so long. All the inner critic blob voices are pointing out how I didn’t “stick with it” before, that I’ve been “flakey” with something I supposedly care about. But those are just the whines of resistance and fear, and I know they aren’t worth listening to.
And I know that staying away is also hard. What do you miss out on when you stay away from what you want to do? What am I denying myself by keeping myself hidden? What am I telling my brain and my body and my creative genius if I’m not coming back to a thing I want? (Side note, if you haven’t watched Elizabeth Gilbert’s TEDTalk on Creative Genius, here you go.)
I was excited for my friend to come back to her notebook, and honestly, I’m excited to be writing to you again, too. Sometimes it takes a month. Sometimes it takes five. Do I wish I’d done this sooner? Of course. But I’m back, and that’s what counts.
