I can I know

This Is for Me

A few days ago, a friend sent me something that made me realize I wanted to be posting a blog post daily. Will that always happen? I am sure not. Will missing a day, or two, or five, mean that I should give it right up? Also, not.

There’s a concept in DBT therapy known as dialectical abstinence. You try your hardest to avoid the substances, behaviors, activities, whatever they may be, that are causing you harm, with the goal of complete abstinence. And if and when you mess up, you just get right back to trying. You start again. Not over, but again.

Mistakes don’t erase your progress, and progress doesn’t mean no mistakes. It’s the way that I’ve learned to step away from all-or-nothing thinking and to keep pushing towards my goals. Perfection, streaks, and counting days be damned.

Here, I am practicing the opposite. Dialectical blog writing. I am doing my best to write and post daily. When inevitably I fall off, that’ll be the perfect opportunity to get back up and start again. Kinda nice if you think about it. You can’t fail.

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Today is Saturday in Bali.

Back in New York it is Friday night. For my family and many of my friends back home, it is Shabbos, or Shabbat, a 25-hour period observed by religious Jews from Friday sundown to an hour past sundown Saturday night. During this time, those observing will not write, touch their phones, or use the internet.

Today is my fifth day of consecutive posts.

Earlier today, realizing it is Shabbat back home, I had the tiniest immediate auto-thought of “Oh, I guess I shouldn’t post today because it’s Shabbos. No one will read it.” And immediately after that I remembered that firstly, I am no longer religious, and secondly, I am posting for me.

I am no longer religious.

I haven’t been for over 13 years now, but I did still live right in the thick of it for many of those years. The tremendous peace and freedom I feel at being able to do my own thing without fear of being found out, caught, or judged. The feeling of not even remembering it is Shabbos because it is simply another beautiful day here in Bali. The joy at living authentically and bound to nobody’s arbitrary rules but my own.

I am posting for me.

When I started this blog, I really didn’t know what I’d do with it, what direction it would go in, and if it would go anywhere at all. A few months later, I still have no idea about any of those things, and I love it. The exhilaration at being able to do a thing that scares the living hell out of me. The excitement of realizing it doesn’t fucking matter what I write, but that I write it. The complete gratitude at the fact that I am where I am today.

I’m alive. I’m free. I’m writing.

The weird little shy kid who nobody spoke to and who spoke to nobody. The one who teachers called “a good student, too quiet, could participate more.” The one who silently dreamed of holding her breath long enough to never need to take another one.

I’m alive. I’m free. I’m happy.

And the craziest thing of all, I am sharing my ramblings with the world, most of whom will never see it, but all of whom potentially could.