Love Letter #1: The Slog
I’m listening to this disco playlist and feeling v smug. I wrapped up two pieces I’ve been working on, did yoga on my roof, ate a salad for lunch. *flexes* But let me tell you about yesterday…
Yesterday was one of those days where I felt like Toni Collette in Hereditary. Nothing was making sense, every lead of progress just made things much worse, and my forehead hurt from banging it so hard on my desk. (Well, she did that upside down and on the ceiling, but we were both wrestling with demons!)
I spiraled from a rejection from an editor. I changed the direction of an article I was working on that now requires a whole other set of research. I stared at a cursor until it felt like the void and when I did write something it was deleted minutes later. Just a fucking slog. You know the type.
As I sat there, head propped on elbow, vacant look on my face, I longed for those days where writing felt easy. I wrote myself this little love note and stuck it above my desk. (At any point my workspace is littered with these. I’m like one structured dress or breakdown away from being Mary Jane.) I did what I could. I showed up, I banged my head against the wall, I still did the thing. At the end of the day did my best to not count it as a wash or beat myself up. (also a la Hereditary)
And, as if by magic, today was one of those days it was easier.
Life is long. Days are short. Keep showing up.
all. is. on.
P.S. Yesterday wasn’t a total waste because during my research I did find this video. Enjoy bbys.