Just show up

Hey can you read my last Instagram post? Was it like, a total snore?

I rolled over in bed and scanned the text from my friend Meg. Then I perused her Insta feed. Then I came back to our text chain.

I mean, I don’t feel inspired to run a marathon or anything, I said, But had you not said anything, I wouldn’t have thought anything of it.

The backbone of Meg’s entire livelihood is her online presence. Having started her original blog, A Dash of Meg, in undergrad, she gathered hundreds of thousands of pageviews before she hit twenty-five years old. With an Instagram following coming in at 15k, her entire nutrition practice is hosted online.

Read: What it was like photographing a cookbook with Meg for a month.

Point being—while you might knock worrying over an Instagram post, I got where she was coming from.

Listen, I typed, grabbing my Mac so I could paragraph-text through iMessages, you’re not going to be batting 500 on every little thing you write. The most important thing is that you show up. Posting every day and staying consistent is more important than trying to hit a homerun every day.

If you want to do something, just show up—don’t overthink it.

This summer, I hit a landmark on this blog. Twelve hundred people read a single post in one day. I couldn’t believe it. I started this site as a way to keep my creative mind running when I served my days as a copywriter. I woke up early, walked to a coffee shop, wrote for an hour, then continued to my day job.

I never thought anything would come of it, I just kinda wrote. My friends liked my stories. My parents used what I wrote as material to yell at me. I enjoyed my morning routine and thought it made me a better copywriter. Period.

When people started approaching me and asking me about things I said online, it unnerved me.

I know this sounds dumb as shit, but I thought my posts were locked away in this really secret place called the internet. You know, where no one goes.

Instead of riding my wave of audience momentum, I wrote less. Since people were actually reading what I wrote, I put pressure on myself to perfect every last piece. I would edit the same six hundred words half a dozen times before I published it.

The result? I could easily go two weeks without writing a single damn thing.

When I think about the one thing I do each and every day, it’s working out.

It does not matter how sick, sore, or exhausted I am. I do something active—even if something active means a thirty-minute yoga video in my living room—every.single.day.

Some days, my workouts are far less than sexy. Others, I feel badass AF. But because I workout every single day, it doesn’t really matter. If I face a workout where I’m just not feeling it, or a planned five-mile run ends up being two, I don’t really care. I know I’ll come back tomorrow and hit it hard.

When we place too much emphasis on developing this one perfect thing, we sacrifice consistency for this one, beautiful masterpiece no one will remember anyway.

People with a strong following post on their blogs or Instagram every single day. People with a strong faith pray every single day. People with a strong relationship with their friends and family check-in every single day. People with strong bodies hit the gym every single day.

If there’s something you want do more—post, run, lift, do yoga—just show up. Don’t wait for the perfect moment because it doesn’t exist. Show up with confidence and give whatever you have, knowing you can always come back tomorrow.

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For All the F Words
You have flaws. You f-up on a daily basis. And that should be ok.