If you want to do a thing, then you must do the thing.
It’s profound, I know.
It’s also sneaky hard.
Every so often I will check in with myself about my hopes and dreams about life, love, and the pursuit of happiness. The check-in usually involves a pen, a journal, and copious amounts of wine. And during this check-in I’ll spend a lot of time thinking about what I actually want out of life.
Surprisingly … not much.
But also, there are a couple things that have been on my list (you know, that list of things you would be doing if money/resources/time were of no object) for decades now, that I still don’t do consistently. And I often wonder why.
Like I’ve wanted to write my whole life. I’ve always enjoyed it. Fiction, non-fiction, biographical, horror, romance (ooohhh, that sounds neat). Any and all of it works for me. When I sit down to pen and paper and just write, I feel like … me.
The overwhelming sense of satisfaction, pride, and contentedness I feel at a completed page is a akin to therapy at my fingertips. When done, I can see more clearly and breath more deeply. It feels like it was what I was made to do.
And yet, these days, I don’t write very often.
I know … it’s very perplexing. Why wouldn’t I be doing the thing that I always enjoy doing and really want to be doing? So I decided that it was time to change that. Hence this blog. And this project. And this commitment to write for 100 days straight.
Because I’m committed to doing what I say I’m going to do. Because I’m committed to doing what I was made to do. Because I’m committed to being the person that I want to be. Because I’m committed to living life by my design.
So I’m going to do the thing.