a failed 100-day project

The 100-day-project from hell, how I failed, and what kind-of-nice thing came out of it. Like, it was hell but it was also fine? And what even IS failure?

Back in September 2021, I was approximately 2 billion years pregnant, waiting for my giant gestational diabetes baby to hurry up and finish cooking so I could finally give birth before his due date on March 6th (yes, I felt giant in September and it took forever for March - and the baby - to come) (I can’t believe all of this was 2 years ago and now that baby is about to be 1). I decided to embark on a #100dayproject (nothing says “unrealistic” and/or “blind optimism” like a overwrought pregnant lady taking on a *daily* journaling project WHILST finishing a bunch of client projects and preparing for the holidays and also abruptly becoming primary childcare for her toddler. 

It’s me, I was blindly optimistic. And a bunch of other things, but mostly unhinged.

ANYWAY.

At the time, I was contemplating that it would be the last time my first born would be an only child. The last time he’d have 100% of my attention, be my only boy, be able to spend quality time together, and all of that jazz.…