Reevaluating Priorities

Goals are a great thing.  Wonderful, really.  Goals are what keep us on the path, moving forward, or, in the words of Thoreau, going "confidently in the direction of our dreams."

There's this other thing that goes hand-in-hand with goals, however, and that's priorities.  Priorities are also great things.  Wonderful, really.  Priorities tell us what's really important in our lives, what matters to us, what we ought to be spending our time on.

I've been reexamining my priorities of late, trying to determine whether my life actually lies in line with them, and I've come to the realization that, in some respects, it doesn't. 

All of this is a preface to the following: I'm abandoning my current Year of Insanity goal.

The goal had been to write a thousand words a day, every day, for a year.  For nearly three months, I've done this, missing a day here or there, but making up for it on all but one day.  I've written something like 90,000 words in journal entries and novel synopses and novel rough drafts.  It's been fun, instructive, and in many ways, very productive. 

The problem is, right now my priority is really on composing, and I'm not getting as much of it done as I would like, and a good part of the blame lies with the writing. 

Here's how my day goes:  I get up in the morning, get dressed, then once my wife heads off to school, it's me and my son here.  Daddy does some light computer work while Son entertains himself, and usually around 8:00 Daddy has to jump into the fray and keep him occupied.

At 9:00 he goes down for a nap, and Daddy frantically scrawls a thousand words, eating up pretty much the entire 45 minute nap.  Son is up for another two hours where we play, eat, and do all sorts of fun son-related activities.  Then, around 11:45, he's down for another nap, this one, hopefully, longer than the first.  Daddy's first goal is to make his lunch and eat it, because if he doesn't, then Daddy doesn't eat and has a bad day.  Once that's done, Daddy gets whatever time is left -- usually a half hour or so -- to compose.  Then Son is up for another two hours or so, we play, eat, have a good time, and by the time son is down for his third and final nap of the day, Daddy is pretty much brain-dead.  Not long after that, Mommy gets home and we spend our evening together as a family.

That's a wonderful thing, except I'm spending all of my prime creative time and energy either with my son or frantically writing words in a novel or journal.  I don't begrudge my son the time even a little bit, but I'm really starting to resent that writing.  The fact that it's no longer a priority for me is making it all the harder to do, and most days I dread doing it, and rejoice when I check the word count and find I've pushed my way just over a thousand.

So I'm withdrawing from the challenge.  I'll still write, but when and as I feel called, as a hobby once more.  I'll still do National Novel Writing Month, but won't feel pressed to write every single day if my schedule doesn't allow for it.  Writing will still be part of my life, just not such an intense focus.

While I'm not pleased about abandoning the challenge, I don't look upon this as a failure.  We fail at goals when we're just too lazy to pursue them, or make excuses why we can't do it.  I know full well that I could do this goal if I chose -- I've written consistently for almost three months, and could continue to do it for the next nine.  Instead, I'm relegating this goal to the pile of thousands and thousands of other goals I've cast aside because they aren't important to me or don't fit my current priorities in life.  Rather than blindly following a goal, I'm going to rededicate myself to those goals and pursuits that truly matter to me, that will truly make me happy, and that will give me the most fulfillment out of life.

Take some time today to look at how you're spending your time, and see if it falls in line with your priorities.  If it doesn't, maybe you need to change something.  Remember -- it's only really a "failure" if you're not being true to yourself.