I've been doing pretty good about posting something every day. Probably not all that exciting to anyone but me, but really, posting every day means something to me. It's a sign of commitment, for me, anyway. Since I am trying to write more creatively, I need to write something.
And then Thursday night, when I was going to sit at my computer and write my piece for Write on Edge...I just didn't feel like it. It wasn't that I didn't have any ideas, because I did. I admit to feeling a little discouraged because every other blogger out there has 4,000 comments daily, but that wasn't it.
I've just been feeling very tired. As in exhausted. Run down. Like I am right on the edge of catching some sort of summer virus. Part of this has been because of my work hours. Ten hour days are just "off" my routine enough to completely wreck it. I don't sleep as well because of it.
I told myself that I would just go to sleep and then get up early on Friday to write. Except that I didn't. I slept in, and then I didn't have any time to myself to do anything at all for the rest of the day, because that's how it seems to work in my house.
I felt guilty, a little. Like I was deserting someone, namely myself. And then I thought about all the efforts I make to post daily, even if it means staying up later than I want because I have to write after my son is asleep. Efforts that I make because I want to write, even if they are blog posts that nobody reads. I decided that I was being hard on myself, when I didn't need to be.
I'm not going to stop blogging, but I am not going to get all anxiety ridden if I miss a day or two. Well, I'm going to try. Anxiety is one of my personality traits, and those are difficult to let go. Sometimes, however, we need a break. I need a break. I am my own worst enemy in this arena, but I'm going to try to work on it.