I started journaling again.
I stopped for a month—the longest I’d ever been away.
It's a daily habit I’ve been keeping up for years, a way to clear my mind of the thoughts it is too consistently full of, a reason why I’ve never needed a therapist.
Why the break?
Well, I started a quarter (3-month long) project. The aim is to trim the fat off of my writing, of which there is, hopefully was, an ample amount.
In one word, "compression."
I had a hunch this once useful practice was now sabotaging my efforts. The journal was a place where I could be careless with words, when I needed to be more careful with them.
So far the results have been good. Of course, this is just my opinion.
But being concerned with making the writing shorter has created concern over the longer writing.
Hence, the return.
But things were different, it was like the journal had become a different tool entirely.
Or did the change have more to do with me? Had I brought out more of my potential during the time away?
I've always been afraid of stopping, which I equated with quitting.
When students tell me they are taking a break, this usually means they are never coming back.
I did this with exercise once, taking a day off while telling myself I’d be back soon.
The very next time I stepped into the gym, years had passed.
Of course there are certain activities, habits that you should never compromise on. A few of those are practicing, writing, and reading.
But even then, it’s not a bad idea to take a breather.
Taking a leave of absence was the only way I realized higher education was pointless, while saving me from digging the financial pit even deeper.
Only with enough space can you determine the value, the distance increasing your vision.
With some things, you immediately find out that you don’t miss them at all.
With others, you come back to test the waters.
You finally understand the meaning of too much of a good thing.
You discover you were, in fact, using too many words.
The blade went dull.
But now it feels like the instrument is getting blunt again.
Either that or I'm reverting to old patterns.
Either way, I no longer care if it is no longer a lifelong habit.
I have come to enjoy the anticipation more than the actual event.
