I’m close. Really, really close. I just need to keep going.
I can smell the end of this book, and because of that, resistance is seeping through every nook and cranny. In therapy today, I realized the thought that resistance uses against me the most is that I wish it was easier. I wish writing a book was easier, and that it took less energy. But, it does. It always will. It’s not easy. That doesn’t mean it’s not joyful, or even just enjoyable…but it’s always exhausting; it’s always hard.
Night night.