The title of this post comes from a Supremes song that I love. It was used as the theme music for China Beach, a show I used to love. Why the nostalgia? Well, after a month of writing every day (and I have to admit to being proud I only took passes on two occasions), I've been thinking a lot about what it means to be disciplined, not only when it comes to writing, but in life in general.
I loved swimming when I was a kid. LOVED it. Took lessons, was ready for lifeguard status a few years too early and then our family moved to a town with no YWCA, no pool, no high school swim team. I wonder if there is an alternate universe version of me where I am--gasp--an athlete?? Anyway, I was disciplined to keep going because I took lessons, I had a place to go, a reason to learn, and--in the water--a completely silent space that belonged only to me. My body cutting through the chlorine, little legs kicking, arm over arm towards a healthier, happier, stronger me.
I haven't been that focused on something very much in my life. I devour books, music, I ingest the people I love, swallowing their good and bad qualities, trying to carry them around with me at all times so that I feel less alone. Yes, it's true: I have a bit of an abandonment thing. I couldn't tell you why. No horror stories from childhood, just a few lame boyfriends who didn't really take the care they should have with me, but this post isn't actually about that.
The point I'm trying to make, and there really is one, is that the last month of making myself write, even when I really didn't want to, reminded me that there is a payoff from such discipline and focus. I found myself reflecting on things I hadn't thought about in years, I caught myself looking forward to the challenge of finding something to say each day, and--in maybe the cheesiest sentence I've ever written--I, simply, found myself.
I remember, now, what it means to be dedicated, disciplined, focused. I'm ready to live that girl's life again.
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