I had been scrambling that week to finish my writing for the year, to be able to enter into that weekend with everything done, to get to experience it joyfully as the first days of my sabbatical. I had other things to attend to, but because of how I have built my writing up in my world, it felt like the most important thing. I do not fuck up meeting the demands of my writing. And so everything else I put aside.
I have built the writing to be the thing that has to get done first, always. Everything else has to wait. And this is powerful and lovely, this dedication, and from the vantage of today, I admire the ferocity of my devotion. I wield it like a sword.
But I have bigger tasks now, and I discover that this all-else-be-put-aside dedication no longer serves me. I have proved to myself and everyone, beyond every shadow of every doubt, that I am capable of the demands of this devotion. Now it is time to show myself and everyone, beyond every shadow of every doubt, that I am finally ready to welcome the so-much-more that I and they have for so long seen within me, crying to get out.