This morning, writing in my diary, I realised something. I’m really bad at celebrating small accomplishments.
Why should I anyway?
Well, when I was a kid and in music school, my flute teacher told me that every time I make a mistake, I need to play the tune several times correctly before the mistake is erased from my muscle memory. So, I figure that brains are no more forgiving than muscles.
I was thinking about how weird it has been, when currently, when I’ve finished the writing for the day, I’ve felt like I’ve done enough. That I don’t need to feel guilty about not writing enough or not writing about the correct stuff or anything.
And I know that the main thin is really just to write, not what you write, but still.
I had a rough patch in my life a few couple of years. It really leaves a mark on you. Not just a memory, but some kind of muscle memory of not accomplishing enough. Life is much better now, but I think I need to relearn how to be aware of my successes. So I started a new journal 😀
Well, I am a word kind of person, so I’m figuring, writing things down will make them more concrete for me. And my dad brought me this nice cloth covered book from Thailand. It isn’t lined, which I hate when I’m writing longer texts, so it fits this purpose of positive note-taking on my life perfectly.