I’ve been slightly overwhelmed lately. No doubt about that.
Between my day job and my side hustle and this thing called adulting, I’ve been struggling to find time to do anything.
So I haven’t written in a while.
I keep telling myself things like, “oh, I’ll wait until the weekend…that’ll be the perfect time to get some stuff done.”
And then the weekends have come and gone and nada.
I’ve gotten nothing accomplished.
The truth is, I’ve been fooling myself to think that there’s a perfect time to do things.
I’ve been imaging this perfect moment of peace and quiet…working in my home office totally inspired.
But that’s garbage.
Because these perfect moments are way too hard to come by.
And if I stop to think about it, I do this way too often.
And WE as people do it way to often.
We think there’s going to be a perfect time to get married.
We think there’s a perfect time to have a baby.
And then us writers think that there’s a perfect formula to writing our best work.
We have to be in the “mood.”
We have to have our essential oils going.
Maybe we have to put on a special playlist.
We have to create the perfect environment in order to do anything.
But I’m officially calling BS on that.
Because as I’m writing this, I’m exhausted AF.
I’m exhausted, straight out of the shower with half of my hair up in a knotted mess.
Joe’s sitting next to me playing Ghost Recon and our cat is curled up next to him awkwardly licking himself in places I didn’t even know he could reach.
Despite that, I’m writing. And God it feels so good.
So screw the perfectionism.
Screw waiting for the perfect moment to make things happen.
And screw the excuses, because that’s what all this perfectionism is anyway.
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