Last night, I had a worrying case of insomnia. To be frank, I’ve slept fitfully at best this entire week. Chalk it up to nerves, I suppose. I had, after all, just recently managed to work up the nerve to start the Kickstarter and get back together with my biological family. The lingering anxiety must have stuck with me this week. Coupled with a flare up of arthritis (I have it in my hands, great for a writer, really!), I accomplished a big fat zero of my goals for today. Normally, I would have kicked myself for this, but I had a bit of a realization today.
Even an unproductive day has merit. Maybe your lack of productivity was caused by your body and mind simply taking a rest day, regardless of your wishes. You needed that but, caught up in the bustle of modern life, you tried to push on without it. Or perhaps what you didn’t accomplish at work was made up for in some other arena. Maybe it gave you a chance to talk to friends, family, or housemates that you had missed in the whirl of your normal busy schedule.
Look, even if nothing else was gained, it was another day of life and another day filled with experiences and interactions. If all you did was a mundane treadmill, the daily grind, it was still a day worth living. Why? Ultimately, every day is worth it, no matter what happens. Even the tragedies of life are steps forward. It may not feel like that at the time but positive things can be build out of the blocks left behind by horrible things. All events, good, ill, and mundane, are the basic components of life.
Maybe I’m starting to see things this way because of my authorial perspective. More likely, I’ve just grown up enough to see the truth of the matter. Either way, my new outlook has made those blah days a little easier to deal with and that’s a good thing, no matter how you slice it.