It’s mid-August in New York and I’m writing here again for the first time in over a month. If you detect a little guilt in my tone, it’s because even though there isn’t a huge audience for this little blog (which was part of the point of starting it) I set a goal for myself to do at least one of these a week.
It’s been six weeks since I hit that goal. There are reasons for this, which will sound like excuses but they’re not.
In short: July was an intense month.
At work, we launched a new space for artists and a video series that I’m writing, filming and hosting. On the social front, I had family visits from two different countries. They’d both gone through a long and brutal quarantine, and so I tried to give them as much time as I could during their stay. I also started on a few new projects, spurred on by my approved work permit and an eagerness to pursue paying projects. All this on top of the YouTube channel, a running habit, setting up a store and feeding social media.
These are all good things, of course. Just too many at the same time. (Like I said: reasons, not excuses.)
And so: I may have burned myself out a bit.
This isn’t the first time I’ve done this. Usually, when I burn out, it’s preceded by a successful period of prolific output. I get excited because things are working just as planned. People around me get excited. I commit to more things and I pile on, because I feel invincible.
“I can do it all,” I tell myself, and before I know it, I’ve bitten off more than I can chew. Downtime is the first to go, and adequate rest with it. Quality starts to slip. I wear myself out meeting every task. Something in the machine fizzles, sparks and spirals out of control. BOOM. Crash and burn.
This is a pattern that has gotten less dramatic over the years. This time, there was no crash-and-burn.
July was busy, but everything went as intended, minus those blog posts. I’ve gotten better at recognizing when I’m about to hit my limit and pulling back. We are our own worst taskmasters sometimes. Remember: to thyself be kind.
Yesterday was Free Comic Book Day and I took the entire day off: went to Forbidden Planet, picked up a bunch of books and devoured them at a coffee shop, on the train home and for the rest of the evening until I feel asleep. Today, I’m still indulging in a bit of healing over my Sunday chores. I’m writing this now after an epic laundry-folding session, letting the words unspool and sit on the page just so. The stress is fading. I feel relief.
Writing this has been such a comfort. I hope it’s been a comfort to read. More soon.
Andrew Drilon / New York / 8.15.2021