There was a moment in these past few months when I almost killed The Next Seven.
October had just rolled in and life was simultaneously feeling too full and yet not full enough. My days were packed with activities.
Between running almost every day in training for a half marathon, writing and submitting poetry to journals, stuffing my weekends and nights with New York City adventures, attending and studying for school, spending quality time building up my personal relationships, and working at the hospital, there was barely any time for blogging.
And it started to feel kind of pointless to blog. I didn’t feel like I was really creating a platform that drew others to read and respond. And keeping this site up and running was taking up a bit of my time that I could have been using to work towards other items on my bucket list.
What was the point of this space, and was the point truly being accessed? Am I using my time wisely? Wouldn’t it be better to shut down this site and use the time I would’ve spent on upkeep exploring other passions?
But here’s the thing I realized: without this blog, I wouldn’t be living fully.
While I had started to worry that this blog was keeping me from living well and wasn’t adding to the lives of others in the way I hoped it would, I realized that without this space I wouldn’t have the accountability I needed to stay with the course.
We all need accountability. When we have goals we’ve never been able to reach before, we will inevitably face challenges on the journey to get there. And these challenges may make it tempting to give up.
But when we have people on our side who know our goals, where our hearts are in striving for these goals, and our personal pitfalls that prevent us from achieving them, we have the moral support we need to keep on through the tough times, or the instances when it’s tempting to give up. When we have people watching us and rooting for us, we’re more likely to live the life we hope to live.
Here’s a little story to demonstrate what I mean: Last year I had a supervisor at my internship who spent countless hours helping me become better at my profession with no benefit to herself. She had decided to take on a social work intern from my school, a commitment that requires the dedication of weekly one-on-one meetings, the editing of endless documents and process recordings, and generally supporting another human being’s difficult emotional journey through hard times.
At one point I asked her why she did it. In my mind, there was little motivation in it for her to supervise an incompetent aspiring social work student who needed her constantly when she had plenty of other duties to perform. But she told me that supervising a student benefitted her because it made her a better social worker. When she was showing me how to be the best social worker possible, she was accountable to making sure she was practicing what she preached. She couldn’t lead me anywhere she wasn’t going herself.
And when I asked her questions she hadn’t thought of before or revealed a bit of my own insight into what the profession should be, she noted that I challenged her to think about things she’d never considered before.
And that’s what I’ve felt from this space. My goal for this blog was always to create a space for discussion and dialogue around living well. Obviously I write on this topic three times a week, and how am I supposed to write anything on creating a meaningful life if I’m not living it out every single day?
And every time a reader or another blogger messages me to offer their thoughts on what a purposeful existence means to them, I am always inspired. I’m pushed to think deeper and beyond my own experience about what life looks like for others, and often my approach is altered for the better in response.
I love this blog. Thank you for being a part of this space and for creating a little corner of the internet with me that means something. I’m so grateful for that.
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