I’m going to level with you – I totally forgot this blog existed the second I shared my last post. Today, this post, this moment is me remembering.

My first instinct is to forgive myself and move on. But I don’t think that’s the lesson here. I thought that putting it out there — visibly committing to what was (let’s be honest) a very simple goal — would be enough to make it happen. It wasn’t.

And more importantly, I didn’t do anything else to support it.

No dedicated time.
No reminders.
No framework.

Just intention and the assumption that intention would carry me. I told myself I was following the advice to “just start,” but I treated it like a single instruction instead of the first step in a process. Starting is necessary. It’s just not enough.

What actually happened is simpler. I didn’t fail to blog, I never built the conditions that would make blogging possible.

The holidays were a blur. In early January, my partner (now fiancé, but we won’t talk about that today), our son and I saw Edinburgh for the first time. In the evenings, I read. We celebrated close friends as they said their vows the weekend before Christmas. I quit Duolingo after a 560-day streak because I wasn’t learning anymore. We saw family. We ate, talked, rested. We all caught colds. And suddenly, we were back at work.

Did I need to achieve anything in that time? No.
Did I set myself up to achieve anything? Also no.

And that distinction matters.

Because I did achieve things. I connected with people I love. I rested *properly*. I hit my reading goal. I chose something that felt nourishing and private, instead of forcing output for the sake of visibility.

That isn’t failure. But it also isn’t accidental balance. It’s a choice (even when it’s an unspoken one).

So this is the practice I’m choosing now.

Not doing more — deciding better.

I’m starting a master’s next week, and I want that to be my priority. Not alongside everything else, but properly. Which means I’m not asking myself to want to write more right now.

What I am practising is this:
naming what matters in this season, and then making space for it on purpose.

If writing shows up, it gets to be small. Notes in the margins. A paragraph here and there. Not a goal to hit just a place it’s allowed to land.

That’s the balance I trust now.
Not frantic effort. Not endless forgiveness.
Just honest prioritisation — and the structure to support it.