Hello,
As I begin this letter, I’m resisting the urge to apologise.
I’m wondering who I would even be apologising to: you, who surely haven't minded (or perhaps even noticed) my quietness over the last few weeks? Or myself, who never really committed to writing these weekly anyway? Even though I have been fairly consistent over the last seven months, I never set that expectation. I never made that promise. I never made it, because I know myself.
Having to do anything that otherwise brings me joy is the fastest way to suck the joy out of it.
For as long as I can remember, I’ve resisted being told what to do (even by myself). I don’t like being told what I should do, or that I have to do anything. As a kid, I would have done it because I was too afraid of getting in trouble not to. But inside, I frowned. I clenched my fists. I didn’t like being told I had to do anything, even if it was something I actually wanted to do and would have done anyway. I just wanted to be asked (something kids were not in our house).
So now I ask myself:
Are you here because you want to be?
Are you writing because you have something to say, and not simply because seven days have passed and you feel you should?
I started a business almost thirteen years ago. In all those years, my non-business-backgrounded-self has turned to others to learn as much as I can. Be consistent, the experts kept telling me. Write blog posts every week. Post on social media every day. Send an email newsletter at least once a month. Update your website regularly. Keep doing, keep sharing, keep making noise or nobody will see you and you'll disappear.
Maybe this works for some. A routine can be helpful to maintain a practice. You can’t improve if you don’t show up. You can’t be found if you’re not there. But, I know myself. I’m always writing, even when I’m not sharing. Even when I’m not actually putting words on the page. I’m always writing something in the background. It’s how I exist in the world. I’m not worried about that.
In these days of Notes and Threads and the same feeling that made me leave Twitter about five minutes after opening an account, I’m feeling a lot of noise and it makes me step back into quiet mode. I step back and listen, observe. Mainly my own feelings and responses. Am I still enjoying others’ regular writings and sharings? Yes, very much. So I'm happy to share too. But only when I have something to say. I suppose this is it. I won’t write any more regularly than that. I’m sure you have more than enough to read already.
I suppose, rather than apologising, I’m giving myself (and perhaps you too) permission to be inconsistent. To step back and not show up sometimes. We are not machines. We are humans and our lives fluctuate in waves. We have seasons. We have changing inner weather, in response to ever-changing outer circumstances.
There is nothing to apologise for.
With love,
Amy
P.S. Thank you for being part of the place I can come to when I have something to share. Know that you are always welcome to share back - I love it when you do.
Thanks Amy. Very topical... Possibly because it's a timeless sentiment. But well received now nonetheless. :)