There Is No Finish Line
In these short weekly notes, you’ll find:
The Well—something I’ve learned about living wildly AND well
The Wild—words from extraordinary minds who struggled with mental health too
The Way—one small experiment for you to try
The Well
In periods of intense overwhelm, why does it feel more honorable to sacrifice our fundamental survival requirements than to let a single professional obligation slip? What are we afraid will happen if we even consider, let alone prioritize, our basic physical and mental needs?
When I’m overwhelmed, sleep becomes highly negotiable. Food becomes…non-existent (or sunflower seeds eaten over the sink at 11 P.M.). The routines that keep me stable—which these days are in fact weight-training—get pushed aside for "just a few more hours" of work.
The brutal irony: the things that would actually help me survive the overwhelm are the first things I sacrifice to it. I'm strip-mining myself for parts to keep the machine running, as though my own infrastructure is the most expendable resource I have.
And for someone with bipolar disorder, this isn't just unsustainable—it's actively dangerous.
Here's the truth: There is no finish line where the work is done and I can finally rest.
The work is ongoing. The projects multiply. The creative endeavors regenerate faster than I can complete them—which means if I don't lock in the basics now, future-me won't just be tired—she'll be non-functional.
I finally understand that my own maintenance isn't optional optimization.
It's not a reward I earn after x number of songs recorded or x number of scripts edited or x number of shot-lists completed or x number of costumes built or x number of scientific studies researched.
It's a gift to my future self that ensures she'll actually be able to show up to the magic my present-self is conjuring.
The Wild
"I am not one of those who neglect the body in order to turn it into an offering for the soul; my soul would not at all have appreciated such a sacrifice.” - Rainer Maria Rilke
"I am gone quite mad with the knowledge of accepting the overwhelming number of things I can never know, places I can never go, and people I can never be.” - Sylvia Plath
"Art is never finished, only abandoned.” - Leonardo da Vinci (supposedly)
The Way
At the end of each day this week, ask yourself one question:
"Did I do one thing today that my future-self will thank me for?"
Maybe it's organizing your supplements for the week. Maybe it's food prep. Maybe it's putting your gym shoes and lifting gloves by the door (I know). Or maybe it's going to bed before it is technically the next day.
Act as the stagehand who makes sure the props are in place and there are towels and water bottles stashed behind the amps, so that future-you has the energy to be the star. Give her that gift. She'll thank you for it.
And, as always, if you find it difficult to take this time for yourself (as I often do), do it for Rainer.
Do it for Sylvia.
Do it for Leonardo.
