In the year that I didn’t post, I thought all the time about posting. I’d start drafts but never complete them.

Part of the reason for this is that I started a new half-time job last September. I just didn’t quit all the freelance work I’d been doing. So, as usual, my writing came last. My friend Beth wondered aloud if when we don’t write (which is the thing we love to do), is it because we aren’t taking care of ourselves?

Wabam.

I still put my own well-being low on the priority list.

In the spring, I started closing out some of my freelance work. That was a very difficult decision for me because I love the people I’ve worked with. I recently read this article called “The Spiritual Art of Saying No,” and it’s just perfect. (Read the whole thing, seriously.)

Courtney E. Martin writes about the garden she shares with others, and learning to grow things.

“… Each branch of the tree can only reasonably support two apples. You have to go, branch by branch, and pluck off little baby apples until every branch has only as much as it can support.

It felt sad to me at first, twisting off these hopeful little apples and dropping them into a bucket. They amassed quickly, collectively robbed of possibility by this big-bellied goddess of destruction lumbering her way along the front gate. I felt bad. But then I looked over and watched as Louise pruned without fanfare, gentle and direct. She had lived long enough to know that in order for some things to thrive, some things must die.

You say no so you can say yes. It’s sad in the way that all limitations are, but also liberating. You are human and finite and precious and fumbling. This is your one chance to spend your gifts, your attention, most importantly your love, on the things that matter most. Don’t screw it up by being sentimental about what could have been or delusional about your own capacity. Have the grace to acknowledge your own priorities. Prune and survive.”

It’s not a new metaphor, pruning. Cutting off weaker parts so the best may thrive. But Martin’s articulation is elegant.

“This is your one chance to spend your gifts, your attention, most importantly your love, on the things that matter most. Don’t screw it up by being sentimental about what could have been or delusional about your own capacity. Have the grace to acknowledge your own priorities. “

I’ve been exactly that: sentimental about what could have been AND delusional about my own capacity.

I also have FOMO (fear of missing out). And more than that FONBE (fear of not being enough) and FONHE (fear of not having enough). I am quietly, desperately afraid.

I’ve let go of a few more things in recent weeks. And this fall I’m implementing the Fall Wellness Program for myself. I’ll be taking meaningful strides toward feeding my creativity, my health, and my joy. Wish me luck.