I don’t blog a lot here. And I don’t have any illusions that my thoughts are reaching thousands. I suppose I am writing for myself. And today, that may have paid off. As I opened the editor to make a post I glanced back at my second-to-last post about digging a hole and not coming out until I am published.
Shortly after I wrote that post, I was lured onto a group writing project that took countless hours of my time (and perhaps years off my life) and … well, let’s just say I’m glad that experience is behind me. And then I was plunged into the chaos of the next school year where personal projects are always back-burner. It is now, almost a year later, that I look back at that hole I dug only to find it full of rubble and cobwebs—the remnants of a contract unfulfilled.
Today I am writing as a way of facing my own mess. I squandered time that I had promised to myself and it’s me who has to pay. This is a note to me—you are stealing from yourself when you put your own work aside.
This is not to say I can’t help others, but I need to analyze my commitments and practice the art of saying no.