I’m writing this post for me.
I’m writing because I need to figure something out. I’m sitting at Dolcezza trying to solve a problem the only way I know how—with my Mac open and a full mug beside me.
I know how this post ends because I wrote it twice. I typed the entire thing, went on a walk, ate breakfast, sat back down and rewrote the whole thing. And out of respect for you and your time, you should know this:
At the end of this, half you will be left thinking, “Did I seriously just endure 800 words to hear a white girl complain about what time she works out?”
I wish I were joking. So if you didn’t sign up for hearing about my first world problems, close your browser now because that’s where we’re going.
For the past few months, I’ve really struggled writing in this blog.
For whatever reason writing has become increasingly hard for me. I’m not thrilled about the posts I’ve put out the past few months. They seem…I don’t know, forced? Like I’m writing for the sake of writing?
Before, if you asked me how I decided what to write about, I would say, “I just type what I’m thinking.” It wasn’t hard. I just woke up each morning and opened my Mac. Whatever thoughts ran through my head just sorta…poured out.
I can’t hear those thoughts anymore. And I’m trying to figure out WHY.
In the past six months, my routine changed. Drastically.
I have a couple thoughts as to how this impacted my “writer’s brain.” One, I don’t have a regular nine-to-five anymore. Meaning, since I don’t HAVE to be at the office by 8:30, I don’t HAVE to be typing by seven. Those ninety minutes of typing used to be sacred to me. Now, I can spend them as I wish.
Second, my priorities shifted. Like, a lot. If you’ve ever been told, “Client work comes first,” try working for yourself. It is really, really hard to rationalize spending time on ANYTHING not directly correlated to cash flow when everything you do contributes to making rent. You basically spend your days in a never-ending state of guilt if you’re not actively working on a client project. It’s a fun life.
Finally—and this is where I expect all eyes to roll toward heaven—I haven’t been writing because I have Achilles tendonitis.
I shit you not.
If you’ve ever worked out with me (which many of you have) you have fallen victim to my endless bitching about this injury.
Yes, I’ve seen doctors. Yes, I have tried everything. If you bring up “heel drops” I will punch you in the face and feel no remorse.
Every step hurts. It hurts to walk to the grocery store. It hurts to walk down the steps of my apartment. The one and only thing that has reduced inflammation and causes me zero pain whatsoever, is swimming.
Actually, that’s a lie. I never swim. I aqua jog in the first lane with all the old ladies.
Since all the “real” swimmers clearly feel about me the same way I feel about people who walk in lane one on the track, I avoid peak times (i.e. after work). The pool is only open between 6AM-8AM, followed by 5PM on. Therefore, I am sentenced to completing my boring-ass workout between 7:30-8 each morning.
In other words, the time I once dedicated to writing has now been taken over by the one workout in the world that doesn’t cause me pain.
I wrote this post because I needed to pause and think—because something is clearly not working for me.
I think it’s important to stop and assess once an while. To ask yourself what is working and what is not, where you’re spending your time and where you’re wasting it, why you’re doing things you hate and not doing the things you love.
I LOVE writing. It’s the only thing I’ve ever loved as much as running. Since I already gave that up, I kinda want to hold on to this.
My daily routine is not working for me. The hours where I am most creative and my brain is most sharp, I now spending working out. If I aqua jog in the evening, my Achilles will hurt ten times more throughout the day (the water isn’t just low impact—it actually does wonders for the inflammation). On the other hand, if I wake up at the ass crack of dawn and jump in the pool the moment it opens, who knows if my “writing brain” will still be there when I dry off.
I guess I’ll just have to go figure that shit out.
Sometimes, solving the smallest problems can make the biggest impact on our quality of life.
Thank you for listening to my endless rambling, and complaints about something that I am COMPLETELY AWARE is obnoxiously trivial. But sometimes fixing those trivial problems really improve our daily lives! Like finding a new gym because our old one doesn’t work with our new commute. Or making time to listen to your favorite podcasts or call your mom on the days you work from home. Or finding a new workout to inspire you when you’re bored AF of your old one.
Finding time, switching things up, and finding a “new routine” for the things we love is important—because these little things make us happy. And if we’re not happy, then what the fuck are we here for?
I’ll let you know how it goes.