During my autism evaluation the psychologist noted that I was an “all in” person. I was drowning in commitments and my evaluator suggested I try practicing inconsistency. I was completely blind to having that choice.
My brain only sees “do” or “do not.” (I would be an excellent Jedi Master.)
Its been a very long and slow process to begin shifting this.
That’s why I call it a practice. I mean that in the same way someone has a yoga practice or a gratitude practice. Inconsistency is something I’m actively working to cultivate in my daily life.
Because of this tendency I avoid “don’t break the chain” mindset like the plague. I’ve fallen under its spell many times and its pretty ugly. I could chain 300 days and if I miss a day its all over for me.
That broken chain feels worse than starting from zero.
My best defense is to embrace inconsistency. To invite it in.
When I was journaling as a new mum I was often faced with the option to sleep or to write. And, in my maternal wisdom, I knew that Julia was wrong.
Art is important, but sleep is number one.
Here I am three years later.
I’m celebrating 916 journal pages during the first three years of motherhood. (189 of those were using a simple daily check in you can download here.)
I broke the chain many times.
I chose sleep, and baths, and yes sometimes even Stranger Things.
And I don’t regret it.
Because I was intentionally inconsistent this isn’t a failure. It’s a win. It’s me taking care of myself and my creative ecosystem.
Those 673 pages would not exist without taking this approach. (The same goes for writing my books by the way. That process was also wildly inconsistent.)
So here I am with a fist full of journal inserts (it is pretty satisfying they all match, isn’t it?)
…one of which was nibbled by my child when they were in the human goat phase. 😂
This taste for paper is part of why I found journaling time hard to come by. I’m writing more these days, but I still want to hold this practice with a loose grip.
How do you feel about consistency? Love it or hate it?
Ok, it sounds like my child has waken up grumpy from their nap so my quiet time is all used up.
Until next time,
P.S. If you resonated this blog post you may enjoy the ramble podcast I recorded on the same topic.
When I started my year of making I had intentions for writing weekly updates for my blog or newsletter. Then the month unraveled, our whole family got sick, and I shifted into survival mode.
So I’m giving myself some Brownie points for being flexible (not easy for an Autie) and picking up the pieces to write monthly check ins instead.
The month started by easing in with baking and journaling and photos for Davy’s first (half) day of Montessori school.
Then I tried to calibrate my new Cricut. (It was a hate-hate relationship… in the end I returned it and used the money to buy electroforming supplies instead.)
And the second week we came down sick. First Davy, then the whole family. It was his first time having a fever for anything besides teething. The first few days I kept track of making soup and tea and macaroni out of a box. Then my own fever went up and it was all I could do to just keep us going.
It’s a tribute to what I’ve learned through motherhood that I was able to let that go and look back with empathy instead of self judgement. It was hard.
A couple days out from February we started coming alive again and I resumed my making quest. The final day of January was my first proper day making art in my new studio. I returned to an art project I started in February 2, 2020 and had been on the shelf ever since.
My takeaways from this month?
Sometimes you honor your inner artist by resting and healing. Sometimes making what you need for survival is enough. Other times you have the energy to pick up a long lost project and you stitch two timelines together through the metaphysical magic of time travel.
UPDATE: September 2021
I hid this blog post when I stopped writing monthly updates. At the time I was discouraged because we were sick every month from January – May and my year looked nothing like I had imagined. Looking back I can see how I did keep making (in small and simple ways), but I didn’t have the time or energy to document. Then in June (the first month none of us fell sick) my creative world expanded. If you’re finding it hard to create at the moment I see you. Don’t give up. Take the small moments you can. They count even if no one else is seeing them.
I didn’t choose a word last year. Or the year before that. I’ve been in a metaphorical hibernation since Davy was born. Snug and still even before 2020 locked us all down.
These 18 months have been a time of dreaming and ideation. I have had more creative ideas during postpartum than any other time in my life.
Yet, action came in waves.
Small lapping pond waters.
Occasional crashing whitecaps.
Doodles and book drafts.
It was inconsistent, but it kept me afloat. The ideas I didn’t have time or energy to complete I gathered up and squirreled away for another time.
I’ve chosen the word MAKE for 2021 because I want to establish a daily creative practice. To put those ideas I’ve collected to use.
I want to make more art, but gently. I need flexibility to tend a sick babe or adjust my pace to avoid burnout. Some days I might paint or weave and others I might make beans on toast. Both are equally valid.
It’s an invitation to create everyday and a curiosity to see how that unfolds.
If you’d like to follow along I’ll be writing about my year of making in my newsletter. I’ll drop an opt in box here to make it easy.
P.S. After drafting this post I did a search for “year of making” and rediscovered Kim Werker who I followed what feels like a lifetime ago. I must have been riding some subconscious inspiration. Kim’s year of making was in turn inspired by Miriam Felton so it’s one big beautiful swirl of inspiration. 🌀
If you want to join in just use their hashtag #yearofmaking.
