I Forgot to Post Today.

Today’s One True Thing is that I totally forgot to post today.

Sundays have historically been my “self-care” and restoration day. When I graduated from NYU and started my first full-time job, I was shocked by how exhausting a 40-hour work week could be. I’ll never forget complaining to my dad about it and being like, “I can’t believe you chose to have kids on top of this.” LOL. Since 2012, I usually try not to schedule anything work or social life related on Sundays.

Pre-COVID, I would work out with my sistafriend and personal trainer, Eden, on Sunday mornings. Then I’d come home, nap, and chill for the rest of the day — maybe cook myself a big, nice dinner so I could have leftovers for the week. It was a nice ritual I started right before I celebrated my 30th birthday. Working out energized me for the week, but the hardcore chilling also allowed me to feel more rested. Like most of us, Mondays are hard for me, so having the whole day before to get my mind, body, and spirit right for the upcoming week helped me be more of a grown-up.

Then COVID hit and Sunday pretty much blended into all the other lockdown days. Plus, it feels like I’ve spent a majority of 2020 on episode (which I am NOT complaining about), so Sundays have also had to turn into a work day most weeks out of necessity. (Hiiii, I’m a procrastinator.)

But for the past month or so, I’ve been working on something very exciting with Eden’s brother, Miles. Though I love him and I love the project we’re collaborating on, so it doesn’t exactly feel like work. In many ways, it feels like just another extension of my self-care practice. But it’s also something I often have to rush and get ready for, because I have poor time management skills. That’s indeed what I was doing this morning — I woke up late and needed to get ready for our work session quickly. It was a joy. Then I came home and ate ramen. Then I took a nap. I woke up maybe an hour, an hour and a half ago…

OK, so essentially my Sundays are still the same. I’ve just swapped working out with Eden for working with her brother. (But you still my main squeeze, E!)

Now it’s 11:30pm and I’m like, “Oh, fuck, don’t lapse on the blog, bitch.” But because I took a VERY late nap today, I’ll probably be up for a few hours, which I don’t mind. I know all you sleep cops out there are gonna be like, “You shouldn’t take naps so late…” But listen, I was tired. Plus, I enjoy writing late into the night for some reason. There’s something about the darkness and the quietness and no one asking me for shit, it helps me lock myself into that rare yet sacred space where the ideas flow and I’m not getting hung up on the usual shit that keeps me from being a productive writer. It started in grad school. USC had a 24-hour library and when I really just needed to get writing done, I’d buy a bunch of snacks and coffee and hole up there until 3 or 4am. I miss it.

So those are my truths for the day: On Sundays, I’m lazy. But I tried hard not be too lazy to write this blog.

Happy Monday, y’all.

I'm Bad at Self-Care. (AKA One True Thing #1)

Two weeks ago, I turned 31. I still have two saved drafts I intended to post to celebrate my 30th. (LOL.)

I was once a fairly prolific blogger, as I’m sure most Millennial/Xennial writers who came of age with the Internet and social media were. But as I’ve made the transition from hobbyist writer to professional writer (blegh!), I’ve stopped blogging.

But for my 31st year, I made a commitment to myself (and my therapist) to prioritize self-care. “Self-care” gets thrown around a lot, usually to sell us shit. Like spa days and vacation packages and face masks. (Mmm, capitalism.) But for me, self-care means learning to practice daily actions and behaviors that prioritize my own health and well-being. And beyond that, prioritizing my own joy, wholeness, and peace.

But I’m really bad at self-care, y’all.

You see, I tend to put other people’s needs and feelings before my own. I don’t think this is necessarily bad. Especially because kindness and compassion are daily practices as well. The problem is I offer a disproportionate amount of my time and energy offering kindness to others — and not to myself. And then I burn out. And then maybe I spend five insomnia-addled days holed up in my apartment, procrastinating on writing and e-mails by deep cleaning my apartment and watching YouTube.

IDK, my brain is weird. What I do know is that for most of my life, it’s been so much easier for me to take care of other people than it has been to take care of myself. But I’m 31. But there are some incredibly important things that I would very much so like to achieve and bring into my life in my 30s, but they require a daily self-care practice.

Writing every single day for myself — not for a paycheck or acknowledgement or prestige — is one of the ways I used to practice self-care.

Being open about the messy, funny, boring, ugly truth of my life is one of the ways I used to practice self-care.

But the toxicity and hyper-visibility of social media makes me anxious, so posting on Twitter or Instagram or Facebook (yes, I still have Facebook — I’m 31) no longer really feels like self-care.

So welcome to my new old blog, in which everyday I will write at least one true thing.

See y’all tomorrow.