I set a goal for myself when I started this blog. I would have a new post every week, a high-quality personal essay that would hopefully enlighten and inspire. And here I am: it’s been over one week since my last posting and the draft that I’ve been working on is nowhere near good enough to publish (nor is it complete). I’m overloaded at work and on the verge of falling ill. I have some social engagements that will take up my next couple of evenings. There is no way I’ll finalize my draft by Friday night. And yet I hate the idea that I won’t meet this goal.
I have a history of setting high standards and high expectations for myself. I push myself to do my best work. That’s something I’m proud of. But there are also moments when I decide on personal goals that are truly impossible. And then sleep, food, and my social life become annoying little obstacles. Except they’re not. Without them I end up fatigued and unmotivated. And yet I am surprised and severely disappointed when I fail.
So this week I’ve lowered my expectations a little. I recognize that, in the face of my bloated schedule, I won’t meet my posting goal. I want to make my peace with that. Instead of losing sleep over my neglected draft, I’ll send this blurb out into the ether.
Maybe it’s time for me to relax my perfectionist tendencies. Maybe I need to prioritize my rest. Maybe, if I do these things, my next post will come out the better for it. Fingers crossed.
— S. (a.k.a. AMisplacedPen)
P.S. I wrote half of this post on a bus traveling down Lake Shore Drive. It was one of the bumpiest rides I’ve ever had. Chicago roads are awful. Or was it the bus? Perhaps both.