Getting Inside My Head

I feel like a three hundred pound asthmatic crossing the finish line of a marathon. Not sure how I did it. The odds of a busy life and creative endurance were heavily stacked against me.

But one determined day at a time, I pressed on. I wrote every week day this year.

Why?

Great question.

A year ago, a friend gave me a book called The War of Art.  In it, Steven Pressfield deftly exposed the battle that every creator faces: resistance. Lack of inspiration. Lack of discipline. Lack of understanding that the bedrock of the creative process- whether it’s art, music, writing, or knitting- isn’t inspiration. It’s commitment. It’s trusting that you have what it takes.

When I read that, something inside of me clicked. I had done a little writing, but had tossed it on the “uninspired” shelf for a few months. Around that same time, wordpress.com was challenging me to write more: weekly or daily in 2011.

Daily? Why not? I found myself going for it. And so I’ve been writing. About life. About the kids and the things they teach me. About the world, from my vantage point. About God and faith and this journey of struggling to uncover and put to words what I really believe.

It’s probably one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. There were more than a few days when I wanted so badly to quit. For three main reasons:

1) Life is busy. Work is demanding. My family is my favorite priority. Many times,  the first chance I’d have to sit down and write would be late at night, weary at the end of a busy day. But I burned the midnight oil. It was a ‘sleep less’ kind of year.

2) It’s hard to say what I really want to say. Sometimes it felt really vulnerable.  And those times made me realize how much I care what people think. Could I really say what I was actually thinking? Sometimes yes. And sometimes no. But I’m getting there!

3) Having something to say, every day? Yikes! Some night I would literally sit and stare at the screen for half an hour with three half-baked ideas and no actual words. I learned not to wait up for inspiration. Sometimes, ya’ just gotta’ buckle down and create.

This was a great year. I would do it all again in a heartbeat. Having said that, I don’t plan to do it again. I’ll keep writing, for sure, but you probably won’t be hearing from me everyday.

Thank YOU so much for tagging along this year. For reading and responding and being a wind at my back along the way. There were so many times that I was struggling to keep going, and a well-timed word of encouragement would give me the boost I needed. And I would be totally remiss not to thank Kel, who not only put up with this exercise but wouldn’t let me quit on some of the nights I really wanted to. I don’t think it would have happened without her.

And so, with the click of a button, I feel my chest tearing through the blessed finish line tape.

It is finished.

And on the other hand, it has just begun.

Join.

Un-join.

Join.

Un-join.

That pretty much sums up my relationship with LA Fitness.

Kel and I had signed up pre kids (you know, back in the days when we were just looking for something to plug the gaping holes in our calendar). A couple of years ago, after a four month stretch without setting foot in the health mecca, I threw in the towel and quit. They happily charged me for another month (“policy”) and sent me on my way.

Then, several months ago, I started to miss racquetball.

Let me pause to remind us all that optimism ain’t all it’s cracked up to be. Sometimes it slips on a cape and a mask and becomes my arch-enemy.

“Surely I could squeeze a game or two of racquetball into my schedule each week”, I thought to myself. I marched back in with puppy dog eyes, and they eagerly took me back. And for a month or so, I went faithfully. Then I missed a week. And then another week. And another. October. November. Decem… wait a second. This sounds familiar. Maybe I’m just too busy…. again. 

And that brings us up to this past Wednesday, when I ingloriously found myself repeating the walk of shame. They, of course, tried to talk me into staying. “Had you considered bringing your kids with you?” (for a nominally HUGE cost, of course). “You know we’re open early, and we stay late!” (newsflash: I despise early mornings. And late at night, I’d rather be with my family). I was determined, and masterfully deflected all of their attempts. And I broke up with them again.

As I turned to leave, a woman with the untested-new-years-resolution glow in her eyes was entering to sign up. I’d recognize that look of rookie optimism anywhere. It radiated from her face, and I resisted the urge to issue her a sarcastic “good luck”. I hope, for her sake, that her resolve is stronger than mine was.

But hey, I’m holding my head high. I gave it a shot. Twice. And I just didn’t make the time.

But hey- come to think of it- we have a family membership to the Y. I’ve actually never been there, but Kelly and the kids go all the time (It didn’t cost extra for me to join, so I signed up and added another tag to my key ring.) The Y doesn’t have racquetball, but they do have plenty of exercise equipment that would probably do me good.

(Enter flicker of optimism, stage right.)

Yep, that’s it. I’ll start going to the Y. Maybe sometime in January.  Probably.