šŸ‹ Why I Broke a 131-Week Newsletter Streak

This is issue #132 of my LifeLemons newsletter. šŸŽ‰ View the rest here.

Why I Broke a 131-Week Newsletter Streak

You may have noticed that Iā€™ve not written a single newsletter in the last few months.

I shattered a 131-week sending streak since I started, so what exactly happened?

A Broken Promise.

Publishing an original newsletter every week was one of my proudest accomplishments. Not because it gained readers or replies, but because I stuck with it.

Whether Iā€™d returned from a grueling night shift at the hospital or was traveling through different time zones, Iā€™d manage to find a way to write down my thoughts and hit send.

Iā€™d even marvel to myself: wouldnā€™t it be something to say in my old age that Iā€™d ā€œwritten every week of my lifeā€?

I never regretted the time I spent on writing, nor was I ever resentful of the commitment I made to keep on going. So why did I stop for so long? Why didnā€™t I just skip a week and get back into it?

The truth is, I think I wanted to fail.

I'm Human.

Keeping up a public writing streak meant living with the expectation that I would keep it unbrokenā€Šā€”ā€Ševen if that expectation was self-inflicted.

With every successful week came a compounding pressure: write or ā€˜failā€™.

I started my weekly writing habit to introduce some disciplineā€Šā€”ā€Šin the hopes that it would force me to write better and document my thoughts with some regularity.

But in the latter stages, I felt compelled to write simply to continue my streak. In many ways, it was a good thing. Some of my best writing came at a time when I didnā€™t particularly feel like doing so.

Yet ultimately, losing my writing streak felt like an inevitable time bomb. Every weekā€™s deadline felt like it was coming forth quicker and quicker. It became so uncomfortable to hold on to that pressure that eventually, I just let go.

It was as if I was saying ā€œHey everyone, I broke my streak! I told you Iā€™m not that special. You can look away now!ā€.

We marvel at the ability to keep up robot-like accomplishments. Iā€™m guilty myself. Perhaps itā€™s because some things are so difficult for humans to accomplish, that it almost makes us appear ā€˜beyond humanā€™ when we do. But is that any measure of accomplishment? To be something weā€™re not? To strip away our human tendency of failure and imperfection in the hopes of something moreā€¦ perfect?

There was a soothing comfort I experienced when I allowed myself to fail. I retreated to my ā€˜comfort zoneā€™ and did nothing, but I didnā€™t feel guilty about it. I want everyone to know that I failed. I want you to acknowledge it, too, and that I donā€™t even feel bad about it.

Perhaps thatā€™s why it took me a whole week to formulate these thoughts and get back into writing. How does one return from a broken streak just to say that they donā€™t really mind that it happened?

I know that I wonā€™t be with those whose will was strong enough to keep their streak going until old age, but I feel more satisfaction in knowing that failing has its place in my nature. So I welcome my time to fail when it comes, even if it excludes me from being ā€˜beyond humanā€™.

Iā€™ll take my successes the more human way.

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šŸ¤“ About Me

I'm Faisal, a Doctor working in the NHS who writes online and makes Youtube videos on self-development, intentional living and doing the things that matter.

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