I had lofty goals for 2024 and one in particular got vibe-checked by my wife early on. “I’m gonna try to write every day, all year.” I had told her. Her response was simply that, “there’s gonna be days when that doesn’t happen. Don’t overcommit.”

Sure enough, the last week of January found me waking up in the wee hours of the morning one day with gravel in my throat. Not literally, of course, but you know the feeling. And it would turn out that I had a case of low-grade bronchitis or some other kind of respiratory infection that would all too quickly turn me from a creative, writing machine into a couch potato napping though a binge watch of old sitcoms and occasionally playing some video games to pass the time between coughing fits.

I couldn’t do much.

I definitely couldn’t go running. I could barely go for a walk with the dog, to be honest. For about four solid days it was all I could do to hobble down to the kitchen to put the kettle on for some tea.

I also couldn’t write.

I don’t mean that in the physical way, either. That is, I probably couldn’t have sat for long stretches at the keyboard and type anyways, but also I literally could not write. The part of my brain used for stringing words together into coherent sentences was off on leave, exploring a fog-covered mountain and otherwise simply out of the office. My brain had taken a few sick days.

I went four days without writing more than a few words—sitting down to type and then quickly realizing that my mind was not there participating.

And to be honest, I was upset.

There went my writing streak. There went my 2024 goal. I was not even through January and I’d already botched it up by being sick. 

As it turns out keeping myself healthy was actually important to accomplishing the things I wanted to do.

I was mad. Yeah. Of course I was mad. 

But recall, as I say that, that my brain wasn’t working all too well either.

The Friday morning of that unproductive week my brain punched back into work, right back to its usual creative and philosophical self and immediately had a few choice words to share, both in print and just inside my own head.

“Go easy on yourself. There’s gonna be days when creativity doesn’t happen. Don’t overcommit.” It told me, and though I couldn’t help but notice my brain was plagerizing the wisdom of my wife, I had to admit that it was right.

There’s gonna be days. And you’ve got to be ready to forgive yourself and move on. You’ve got to be able to let yourself heal, recover, rest, or simply chill.  You are not a machine. You are a person. Even a guy without a real job needs a sick day (or four) once in a while, too, and that’s just fine.