2023: Blade Runner x Brightside

Happy Thursday everybody.

As I write this it's Wednesday afternoon - my apartment seems to be soaked in a sepia-tone filter, but I’m not in a 2012 Instagram daydream; it's just an effect of the apocalyptic smoke that’s taken over NYC. Very Blade Runner core and strangely appropriate for my current headspace: a little cloudy. An hour ago, I completely scrapped what I’d originally written for this week after sharing it with my friend Olivia and realizing it was low-key trash. No really - I’m a strong writer, but the piece I’d written was clunky and unfocused and didn’t really have a point.

A week ago, I hit a huge milestone - 100 days of writing! This was major for me and I couldn't believe that I’d actually done it. I was beyond proud of myself - I created a habit. Consistency is something I’ve always struggled with - especially creative consistency - so hitting 100 days of writing was a big deal.

But then, I crashed. Hard. I was tired. Waking up every day at 6:30, writing, it’s been a lot, and it’s made me realize that I have a slightly complicated relationship with discipline. On one hand, I know that routine and habits are essential. But on the other hand, I’m a soft girl who needs fluidity and freedom - there are going to be days where the writing comes at 11am, not 6:30. There are some days where it’s not going to come at all. That’s okay.

But it took me crashing after I hit the 100 day mark last week to realize that.

Hitting Day 100 felt similar, I imagine, to how some people might feel after running a marathon. You train and train and train and then do the thing - and then it’s over. I felt a strange mixture of pride and emptiness that was honestly a little unsettling. Feeling like I’d earned a few days off, for the rest of last week I let myself sleep in, sub in TikTok for my morning walk, and put my writing on the shelf. There was a childlike part of me that was sitting back, arms-crossed, saying “see universe! I did it! Now do I get a treat?”

On Friday, after work, I took it upon myself to find that treat, and went to a new dispensary that opened up in East Village. I went in for one specific item - Rose Edibles, which previously I could only get in LA - but I left, $200 later, with a smorgasbord of other goodies and cannabis products.

I had the whole weekend ahead of me, all to myself, with a whole bunch of weed and no plans except to catch up on the days of writing I’d missed. After yoga on Saturday morning, my only plan was to become one with my computer and write write write. Before I got going, I glanced at my new bag of treats and thought “what the hell - maybe some weed will help me get into the creative flow.”

Bad idea.

I got wayyyyy too high - absolutely zonked and not in a fun way - I spent the afternoon alternating between my bed and my kitchen, napping and snacking totally in a fog. Finally, I dragged myself out of my apartment to see Past Lives - alone - and walked home in a teary stupor. It was a sad sight and a low point for me.

I woke up on Sunday and vowed to have a clear creation day, weed-free. I sat down to write, stared at my screen for 20 minutes, but the words wouldn’t come. Frustrated, I shut my laptop, got out my art supplies and let myself play. I don’t think I realized how badly I needed to invite some childlike energy into my creative process - I ended up losing myself in the flow of making a tiny zine (I even made a TikTok about it!) - and it felt joyous! Despite said joy, I was still shaking off the weird vibes of Saturday and the shame I felt for hitting such a huge milestone and “falling off the wagon”.

I’m not trying to justify this weekend, but in a way I think I needed it so I could take a step back and look at what was going on. I was tired. I needed a break. I was so caught up in the rigidity of my writing practice, that I didn’t let myself admit that - instead, I was trying to power through like a maniac, and totally spiraled.

The Brightside, my friends, is not always so bright. I often come here with a triumphant story or anecdote that will touch on the struggle, but not dive into it so fully. It’s really important to me to be honest about what things look like behind the scenes - which is, a lot of times, messy.

I used to be terrified of letting others see “the mess” - my therapist can attest to this. We’ve spent countless sessions unpacking my relentless need to present as someone who’s polished, put together, impenetrable. When I reflect on why I started The Brightside in the first place - and reread old posts about getting to the Brightside - I remember that the whole reason I sent the very first Brightside in 2019 was to give myself a place to be truly, authentically me, mess and all. I look back at some earlier posts and laugh about how cringe they are. That’s a part of the process! I’ll probably cringe at this someday! But at least it’s a real reflection of where I’m at.

This week, I got back on the horse, and recommitted to my morning routine - but a reimagined version of it. I’ve been sleeping with my phone in the kitchen so I’m forced to get myself out of bed to turn off the alarm, instead of snoozing for an hour. And instead of 30 minutes of writing time, I’ve been experimenting with 30 minutes of “creative free play”. It’s been fun - I’ve been drawing again and letting the creative juices flow in whatever messy direction they please.

To avoid any risk of repeating last weekend, I’m heading home to see my mom tomorrow - getting myself out of the city, but most importantly, indulging in my most tried-and-true form of therapy: singing in the car. I’ll be jamming to Sheryl Crow, drinking Diet Coke, probably eating McDonalds, and I can’t. wait.

Being a human is messy work. When we fall out of our routines - or we simply need a break - that doesn’t make us any less worthy of the dreams we’re chasing. Two years ago, a weekend like this would have discouraged me to the point of avoiding writing and creating for weeks. But for what? Shit happens. It’s okay, we bounce back.

Something to noodle on ... 

Have you fallen out of your routine, recently? What happened? Did you get yourself back on track?
 
If you try this exercise, I’d love to hear from you.

I thought these were f***ing stupid when they came out, but maybe Dyson was onto something ...