At the end of January I set myself the goal of writing a blog post a month and me being me declared this publicly in an attempt to hold myself to account. It is now month four of that promise to myself and to you and I have only managed one post, meaning that I have failed. I haven’t done what I set out to do and I’m disappointed about that, but I am also okay with it, and here’s why.
Alongside the other competing priorities and stresses in my life I could feel myself turning writing into a chore, another thing to add to the list stretching out in front of me. I had turned something that was meant to be an outlet, writing, into something else in my life that required a deadline (like I don’t have enough of those already!). There is a constant battle between pushing yourself and punishing yourself, like standing in the middle of a seesaw trying not to let either end hit the ground. By setting myself this requirement of writing I quickly realised that one side of the seesaw had too much weight on it and was smashing back down to earth. And I don’t want to strip the light from something that brings me sanity, it’s a necessity in my life, just as much as the blood running through my veins.
So here I am holding my hands up and saying yes I failed at one thing, but I’m not sorry about it, in fact I am okay with it because the failure in itself has given me clarity. These things that are part of my being, I need them, so I shouldn’t spoil them. Yes write more, yes share more, yes create more but I don’t need to produce a certain amount, or be creative in a certain way. Sometimes my creativity expresses itself through writing, other times drawing, other times through kicking of my shoes and loosing myself on a dance floor. I am affording myself that freedom.
I may not have succeeded in this particular goal, but these past months have involved many other successes, priorities ebb and flow, and that is okay. I have written 12,000 words worth of essays, I have cycled 268 miles I have drunk tequila shots and celebrated with my friends, I have sat alone in the garden for hours with the sun sinking into my skin. These are my successes and they will make my writing even better, when I do come to it. Failure is a regular occurrence, one that I am only just starting to accept. It is from those failures that we learn how to be and to adapt, failures can lead us to great places. Failure is a process that we learn and develop from. The creativity and that freedom that I am affording myself from this failure will lead me to exactly where I want to be. And not surprisingly, now I don’t have the obligation to write looming over me, I want to more than ever. There is plenty in the world to be explored, so don’t worry you haven’t heard the last from me, I’m just learning from my failures.