The hardest part of NaNo, and something I’ve been struggling with as a goal for this year, is forgiveness.
As a writer, as an artist, I logically know that my vision isn’t going to just fall from me onto my screen in its perfect form conveying all the emotions and depth of feeling that I envision in my head.
Logically I know it will take time, work, and the crafting of nuance. Logically I know writing is a process, an exercise, and at times a fucking hard ass job. Logically, I get the struggle I went through this month.
But emotionally I have beat up on myself throughout much of this process.
I felt horrible skipping my writing time while in California. I felt less than when I didn’t meet my daily quota goals.
I feel kind of shitty in the fact that I got to fifty-thousand-three words and stopped, that I just barely crossed the threshold and said, “Fuck it, I’m done.” In my mind, I should’ve written more, kept writing til the bitter end, til the last possible second.
All of my negativity in this past month is just another reminder that I must be better to myself, treat myself better, forgive myself.
The expectations I have for myself I could never achieve. The idea I have of what I should do or should be are unrealistic and hurtful.
To let go of my sadness at not being “more”, to allow myself to just be, no over-arching expectation, no grand idea, just be poetic and let life be as it will, to do that will be to have struggled, accomplished a goal, and now moving forward to the next.
It took me about twenty-four hours to really smile at the fact that yes, I competed NaNoWriMo. Yes, I wrote fifty-thousand words in twenty-seven days.
Yes, I still blogged. Yes, I still went to California. Yes I still worked, and saw my family on Thanksgiving, and smiled when I hugged my niece and spent time with my friends doing nothing important (which often are the most important moments).
That was my month. And, fuck it, even through the shitty times, it was a great month.
So yes, I forgive myself for not being perfect, and I forgive myself for ever expecting that in the first place. I forgive myself for not creating the final draft the first time and I forgive myself for ever dreaming that was possible. I forgive my imperfections and my brain for thinking they shouldn’t exist.
I forgive myself and, in doing so, am happy to just be myself.
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