Earlier I spoke with my therapist, and when I told her how tired, worn out, and frustrated I’ve been lately, she asked about the blog. She said, “You can tell me to go fuck myself, but what if you took a break from it for a while–maybe a couple weeks?” I said, “I know that I won’t blog every day for the rest of my life, but I’m really proud of my unbroken chain. I’m not ready to give that up.” Still, my body needs a break. My soul needs a break. I can’t keep pushing-pushing-pushing myself, pouring my guts out every night for two or three hours when I’m already exhausted. I can’t keep running on empty.

So we decided on a compromise–shorter posts–earlier in the day–lists instead of full paragraphs–limericks even.

There once was a boy from Nantucket
Who had a blog and said, “Fuck it.”

Things like that.

I’m going to try. Now it’s seven in the evening–instead of one in the morning–so that’s a start. When signing on, my internet was slower than my sex life. I got so frustrated I wanted to spit. That’s how I feel a lot lately–frustrated–like things aren’t moving as fast as I want them to. My therapist’s advice today–“You can’t push the universe. Don’t hustle. Rest instead.” Along these lines, I’m going to try to listen to my body and my spirit. Right now all they want to do is hit “publish” and go for a ride in my antique car, Garfield. I haven’t gotten him out since last year, though he never fails to make me happy.

I told my therapist I worried how other people would respond to shorter posts, since that’s not the pattern I’ve established. She said, “It’s your blog, for your pleasure, for your personal growth. And no one’s paying you, so fuck what anyone else thinks.” She talks like this a lot. Like a sailor. I adore it because I don’t. Sure, I cuss, but I’m often too concerned with what others think of me and my ship to say, “Up yars” or “Go play the plank, Matey.” But I’m working on it. Because she’s right. This is my ship, and I’m allowed to take ‘er out to sea or let ‘er rest in the harbor if I think she needs it.

So this is me saying, “Fuck it–I’m done for the day.”