It was only a week ago that I made a commitment to myself, that as a writer, I would put time and effort into – you know – writing. This came with a public declaration that I would publish something I’ve written each Thursday.
Today is Thursday.
As I sit here, I’ve had done a BJJ class followed by an aerial class (silks and trapeze, for the record of energy expenditure). Both of which have equally taken toll on my biceps, forearms, and fingers. It’s 9:15pm. I want to go to shower and go to bed. I’m tired, sore and a little annoyed at myself for saying things in a public space that I want to hold myself accountable to (past Hayley has a lot to answer for).
On the weekend just gone, I hiked a trail I had been wanting to do for about 18 months. The friend I was going with bailed and I felt a little untethered to the idea. It’s way easier to show up to do something if you don’t want to let the other person down. I went through the motions of getting my stuff together, almost like I was waiting for an excuse to presents itself to not to go. Then I found myself in my car, driving to the trail head.
It was wonderful.
I marvelled at nature, made happy small talk with strangers as we moved by each other, wished a girl happy 6th birthday after she proudly declared it to me as I passed. Doing things independently is not new to me. I like my own company as much as I like being surrounded by friends and family. Sometimes you just need a nudge, right?
As I was sitting and watching the water trip and spill down the rock face into the pool I was sitting next to, I recalled that declaring myself a writer was part of the bigger nudge from myself to show up in my life as who I want to be. I want to be the type of person who can go out and do things, with or without others. To be a person of my word. To say “I am ____” and have the commitment to back it up with action.
This past month I have gathered evidence to prove to myself that I am a meditator, a scone baker, a clear floor maintainer (clothes seem to migrate to the floor systematically in my room. That happen to anyone else?), and now – a writer.
Oh, this commitment thing. I choose to use it as a tool for fun, joy, growth, and only on occasion to keep me away from my pillow, creating space for me to show up as I the person I want to be.