The dawning of December never fails to make me want to look back over the nearly-finished year — sometimes with satisfaction, but too often with regret. As it happens, 2009 has been one of those “if I knew then what I know now” kind of years. But I learned some stuff, so it’s worth it, right? RIGHT??
What I learned in 2009:
Procrastination will never again be my friend. Try as I might, I can’t heal that relationship — me and Procrastination are on the outs, permanently. Procrastination has ABUSED me, people. Stolen my time, wrecked my plans and sapped my will to live. I will no longer forgive and forget. Procrastination and I are OVER. No, really. I totally mean it this time.
“Good enough” sometimes really is good enough. Not when it comes to writing, of course. (You’ll get my constant, unending drive to create the perfect story when you pry it from my cold, dead brain.) But for other stuff? Nobody is going to think less of me if I only go to the gym three times a week instead of five…if the sweats I wear when I go there have the occasional bleach stain around the knees from disinfecting the bathroom floor…if my kids carry the rare “unhealthy” (read: packed with sugar and preservatives) snack to their team practices…if my husband dons a non-perfectly-ironed shirt on his way out the door to work…if the cranberry sauce came out of a can this year…etc., etc., ad infinitum.
The old adage is true: If you don’t have your health, you don’t have much of anything. This goes along with number one, to a certain extent. Without delving too deeply into the dreaded over-share, take this advice: When your body tells you something’s not right, LISTEN TO IT. And then DO SOMETHING ABOUT IT. That whole “maybe if I ignore it, it will go away by itself” thing? Not so much. Particularly after forty.
I really am a happier, nicer, better person when I write every. single. damn. day. I knew this. Everybody around me knew this. We’ve known it for YEARS. Why do I have to keep reminding myself by going weeks without writing and becoming surly, miserable and unlikable? It’s a good question. Somebody let me know when they figure out the answer.
In the meantime, I’ll be over here, not procrastinating, remembering that perfection is overrated (for most things), listening to my body, and writing.
Every. Single. Damn. Day.