If you’ve been reading here regularly, you know that for the last 9-10 months or so, I’ve shown up here almost every Sunday morning with a reflective post, with this introduction: Every Sunday morning I share a moment from the recent past and something it illustrated about motherhood, family life, or simply being human.
But I have a confession to make: for the last few months, my heart hasn’t really been in Sunday Morning Tea.
That’s not to say I’ve been phoning it in with my weekly essays! I’ve worked hard on, and have felt inspired by, every single post – and I have been quite proud of a few of them, like my recent ode to sibling bonds, my decision to celebrate marriages over anniversaries, or the one on embracing solitude even when it leads to sadness.
Personal, reflective essays have always been my favorite kind of writing and I’ve really enjoyed having this space and time carved out to share my thoughts and feelings here. I got great responses from those of you who read it regularly, and really felt like some of the posts I’d written were helping people. In short, Sunday Morning Tea has been a very good thing.
But after a while, having this very specific “time slot” set aside for a certain kind of writing started to feel like more of an obligation than an opportunity.
Come Saturday afternoon, I’d find myself thinking back over the week, trying to isolate a moment that I could use as a jumping-off point for a post (and hoping, of course, that I could dig up an appropriate image on my Instagram to use as an illustration.) If I hadn’t already started the post by Sunday morning, I’d wake up feeling anxious, and would often find myself procrastinating all morning and serving up “Sunday Afternoon Tea” instead.
This weekend, I started to do the same thing. And then, about an hour ago, something shifted in my mind.
Just because something was lovely and fulfilling and fun for a while doesn’t mean I have to do it forever.
I can always change my mind. [click to continue…]