Progress is not a Straight Line

It’s important to capture snapshots of success, even amid what can feel like a path of failure.  There are times in life when we cannot live up to the goals we set for ourselves—even the smallest of goals.  The key, in my mind, is to never give up hope that today will be the day that forward motion is achieved.

As I get ready to be another year older, I have spent a lot of time reflecting on the things that I wanted to achieve this year, the things that I had prioritized, that still sit undone.  Despite a year of challenges, I think the most successful part of the past few hundred days is that for some reason, I woke up most mornings with the hope that I would find the time to take care of the things I wanted to take care of… mostly writing or running, even though most of those days, I failed.

I had outsized expectations for myself this year.  Being deployed, I figured I would finally have at least some downtime to focus on writing and running.  To steal a few in-between moments back.  After all, there are none of the responsibilities of being a mom or a cook or a housekeeper out here. There’s no commute, there aren’t any practices, games, school concerts, or date nights.  There are no distractions.  But there is still more work than I can possibly fit into a day.  More hours worked per week than is sustainable.  Making the choice between eating or running, sleeping or writing.  It seems that this part of my life has not changed.

I had a goal to run 1,000 miles on my deployment.  I’m not going to come anywhere close.  I had a goal to finish the novel I am working on… same story.  In fact, I think the most meaningful thing I have written all year are the hurried letters I write to my children when I should be sleeping, or eating, or some other necessity.  In my last letters, I was too tired to write, so I just drew them pictures— of horses and snowmen, of boats and sunsets.  Of the things that I have missed this year.

The funny thing is, I don’t feel like a failure.  Not at all.  I feel like my mind is full of a thousand ideas that, once I get a few minutes, I can scribble down.  I feel full and not empty.  Is that still progress?  I think it is.

So what, then, is progress?  It’s certainly not a straight path forward.  For me, it’s always been a meandering route from one point to another.  It’s never the path that I thought I set out on, yet it is somehow still satisfying.  The trip is still interesting, the insights are still surprising and new, even when I think I have explored all of these areas before.

How do we measure progress, then?  Do we measure it in miles or by word count?  Do we measure it in sales or publicity?  We certainly can… but should we?  The older I get, the more I think that progress is probably measured by the stops that are made along the way to higher word counts and faster miles.  It is probably these small little snapshots of contentment along the way, vice the actual goal.

How do we know we are progressing?  For me, I think I know that I’m still in the game because every day I wake up hopeful that today will be the day that I will get something done for me.  A letter (or a picture) sent to my kiddos, a blog post, a scribbly chapter outline, a plot twist, a few slow miles.  Movement in a direction.  Which direction?… that remains to be seen.  But I know I’ve made some progress or at least that I’m on the right path because the journey is still satisfying.

My advice is if the journey is still interesting, keep on moving, even when you aren’t quite sure where you are headed.  If we already knew what the destination looked like, all the fun of the path there would be gone.  I guess this is why I’m a pantser versus a plotter…

Until next time, keep scribbling.