As part of my 60 day sabbatical, I’m instituting a new habit of writing every day.
First thing, as soon as I get up in the morning. Before any other work projects, before I leave the house to get my coffee (!!), before I do the dishes or indulge in any other excuse to not get the writing done.
Write. First. Every. Day.
And it doesn’t necessarily have to be a publishable blog post. It could be a journal entry of unbloggable content, just for myself, or to share with that one special person. An email blast to my list. A guest post. A subsection of The Live Your Truth Manifesto.
I don’t even have to know ahead of time.
Anything. Just the truth. Just what pours out of me.
Just. Write.
It’s already been amazing – I’ve been publishing tons of great content, I feel like I’ve already been productive by this time every morning, I’m doing the most important thing even before coffee (!!), and I have been working through tons of feelings (writing is amazing therapy), accessing ideas that didn’t have the space to surface.
But today the resistance monster paid me a visit.
She said: “oh, Elizabeth, you can take the day off, you have a lot going on. You wrote a little bit already. You made a video yesterday that you can post today, you don’t need to write something for your blog. You’ve been posting so much lately, there is a theory it’s better to post just every few days, so maybe you’re reducing your web traffic and comments. You don’t feel like writing. You don’t know what to write about. Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone, I’ll keep your little secret.”
So, in response to her polite assault, I sat down to write.
Not about what I had planned to write about, not what wasn’t working.
But what flowed out of me. What was already leaking from the tips of my fingers.
Just like the bitch in the corner, the resistance monster always strikes when you are about to do something amazing.
When you are making a change. Instituting a new habit. Taking a risk. Speaking your truth.
The voices in your head have a conspiracy to keep you safe.
To keep you small. To keep you the same as everybody else.
But I think the secret isn’t to resist her. It isn’t to fight her. It isn’t to beat her down or make her leave. (She’s not going anywhere anyway.)
The secret is to dance with her. To seduce her.
The secret is to write her.
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How do you deal with resistance?
What happens when you are “trying” to be creative, when you are “trying” to change or create a new habit? What gets you stuck/unstuck?






I'm Elizabeth Potts Weinstein, a writer, teacher, and coach.