I can hardly believe I am already 93 days into my ‘100 Days’ transition project; this time next week I will have made my final post. ‘What will you do when the 100 days is up?’ a friend asked me last week over lunch. I stared at her momentarily, dumb-struck. It wasn’t that I hadn’t thought about it, I just hadn’t noticed how near I was to the horizon.
I wasn’t sure when I started the project that it would be either manageable or useful but, I promised myself, I wouldn’t continue with it unless it was both. I suppose the fact I have got this far means that I have managed and that I have judged it worth my time. ‘But how much time?’ my friend asked last week: ‘How long do you spend writing a post?’ My answer was more than she had expected: now it was her turn to stare at me, dumb-struck momentarily.
I had given an honest estimate in response to the question; an average time calculated from the mix of short posts taking little more than half an hour and the more reflective pieces I might spend the evening drafting. And, I added, there is the time taken to upload images, mess around with layout, check permissions, add links and update contents; all minor details in themselves but adding time to the process overall. Plus, I pointed out, I am a perfectionist and inveterate polisher of posts. ‘Two hours’, my friend repeated, digesting the information. Then: ‘I suppose if I include the time taken to get ready, and to warm up and stretch down, and shower afterwards, it’s no more than I spend running.’
So over lunch we discussed some of the ways that 100 days of blogging (like running) could be considered time well spent. My friend pointed out that however long it takes me to write a blog post, it will never demand as much time from me as I used to spend caring for Dylan. So while some people may balk at the thought of devoting two hours a day to something, if you’re used to giving much more than this it feels like luxury, not burden.
But it’s not just about manageability: writing a blog post each day means I create a space for Dylan in my life, even though he isn’t with me physically. These transition posts have helped me to pay attention to the process of Dylan moving into residential care and to think carefully about the impact on both of us. Although this has required stamina and effort, it has felt useful and real.