On Sunday night I looked at my blog dashboard and I felt… nothing. No guilt about the campaign posts I’m supposed to write, no tug to blog about the weekend, no inspiration to write anything.
In the past I’ve often felt compelled to write for the sake of writing, but this weekend I felt none of that.
I pushed myself so hard this summer. I worked while family and friends were in town, staying up way too late to fulfill my obligations. I spent the summer torn in a million directions, always thinking three steps ahead, always lamenting the lack of time to sit back and enjoy the last summer before my kids started school.
I had promised myself that we’d take mornings off, playing in the backyard, enjoying the dog days, but we did nothing of the sort.
Granted, here in Nor Cal, we had no dog days this summer. In fact, we barely had a summer to speak of, so there would have been no pool frolicking on any morning, but still, there could have been more cuddling, more downtime, more crafting.
Instead there was work, work, and when that was done, more work and guilt about all the work that still had to get done.
This past weekend marked the first weekend with no looming Monday morning deadlines. No articles, no work, nothing. A long, sunny weekend to just be with my family.
I slept, played, read, and together we all painted the girls’ new bunk bed and shopped for furniture for their big-girl room. We cuddled. We danced. We ate. We just relaxed. And come Sunday night I didn’t want to turn on my writer’s brain and analyze it all. I wanted to just keep on being.
So I turned off the computer and went for a run. Then I came home, showered and slipped into bed, where I slept, not at all tormented by having neglected my blog for a night.
I hope you found it in your heart to forgive me.