At the beginning of August, in an attempt to “care for” my “creative self,” I made a commitment to do three things every day: meditate, morning pages, and write for an hour.
Obviously, because I’m a joke, I haven’t fully committed to writing for an hour every day (as always, when I sit down to write, I start thinking about other, much more useful things I could be doing: repotting plants, deep cleaning the kitchen, organizing cabinets, watching just one or two or seven episodes of television, getting stressed about how detrimental I am to my own mental health, trying to find the perfect pair of sweatpants, oh Zepp needs a bath doesn’t he, etc.) BUT. I have for the most part kept up with meditating and doing morning pages every day.
Although it’s “good” for my “creative self” and what’s “left” of my “mental health,” I find morning pages to be extremely, extremely challenging. There’s already a lot of inner dialogue—some might say too much inner dialogue—going on in the old mind grapes. And usually what happens is I just write for an hour about all the things I don’t like about myself. One time, I tried to write about all the things I do like about myself, but it made me weirdly self-conscious, lol, and all I could come up with was “Good hair.” Which like, is true. Also lol at me being embarrassed at myself in front of myself, the delusion runs deep baby.
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