What words will come today, I have no idea – your guess is almost as good as mine. All I know is that I need to write 50 words, which is my daily goal in this mini-habit thing.
This concept is actually pretty interesting, and perfect for me. Like most people, I’m certain, I used to make pretty lofty daily goals with the hope of turning them into positive habits. When I made them, I was full of vim & vigor, knowing without a doubt that the goal of writing 2500 words a day for NaNoWriMo or working out for 30 minutes would be a piece of cake. After all, wasn’t it me who is the guy who was strong enough to decide to quit working for anyone ever again, and from that created a life that would make (& did make) many people amazed at my strength & will? Wasn’t it me who took two handfulls of herbs, meditated & visualized myself living for hours every day, therefore saving my own life when the doctors were out of options & couldn’t? Hell, writing a few words and a little time taking care of my body would be *nothing* compared to that!

And so it went – I rocked those goals for at least two days – then there was that day when I was extra tired, or had a lot to do, or really needed to clean my apartment or polish my fingernails or absolutely HAD to learn to play the harmonica better – or do anything but write or work out.
I’ll get back into it tomorrow. Skipping one day won’t kill me. Watch me go.

Or maybe I’ll do it another time. This is too much right now, with the chronic fatigue from my cirrhosis, and besides, doing crunches really hurts my abdomen and my umbilical hernia…

And I failed. Again. I had plenty of excuses, even a few valid ones – but not meeting my goal still took a chunk out of my self-confidence, still made me feel that I just couldn’t follow through, on anything. Just like my dad always said.

But I can write 50 words a day. Hell, doing that – and setting the stupid-easy goal of two push-ups a day – it would be hard *not* to write that many if I just simply wrote anything at all, and as long as I get that 50 done, I have achieved my goal, continued with the habit I’m trying to build. If I do those two push ups, I already have the exercise mat down so may as well do a few more and while I’m at it some planking and other ridiculously easy exercises, and… and well, would you look at that. Not only did I hit my goal, but went past it – and because the mind isn’t concerned with how many, just accomplishing what I set out to do initially – my self-confidence starts to build itself back up, little by little.

During the day, instead of having the “shit I need to do that” weighing on me like I did when I set friggin’ Tony Robin’s sized goals, I look at it now with a satisfaction. “Already done!” – and gods, that feels fucking good to be able to say. Even if I haven’t done it, even if I’m feeling like complete shit, it’s nothing to do one push-up. Nothing to write 50 words – and even on days where that’s ALL I do, I still fucking DO that push up or write those words.

So yeah, I’m digging this new mini-habit thing. After a while it will become a real habit, and feel like I’m doing something wrong if I don’t do it. Like I feel weird if I fall asleep without reading these days. It feels like I didn’t take off my boots or turn on my fan, or grab one of my hats on the way out the door.

I’m just starting with these. I think another one will be getting rid of one thing I don’t need anymore every day – maybe I’ll start that one today. This place is looking clusterfuck ridiculous with all the crap I’ve collected over the years, that I’ll definitely use for an art project some day.

Well, what do you know. 700 words.


not counting these: 50×3

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