I missed writing yesterday. I just didn’t have the energy. A faint voice in my heart kept saying, you can do it, it will just take 60 minutes. But I was so tired that even sparing 10 minutes felt like too much.

It’s always discipline versus energy. Yesterday, I was exhausted beyond limits. My eyes were hurting. I had gone out in the sun and, after years of working in AC offices, my tolerance for extreme heat is low. I love being outdoors, but with proper shades or a cap—and I forgot mine.

Today I woke up late again. Yesterday’s tiredness carried over, and my routine went haywire. I’m emotional and tend to go with the flow, which often impacts my schedule. How much do I allow myself to go with the flow, and when do I push myself to do what needs to be done? That conflict keeps showing up in my mind.

Earlier, a one-day miss would have made me blame myself and give up altogether. But what do you do when discipline breaks and you want to come back?

I’m learning a rule that works for me: missing the action doesn’t mean I quit the identity. I listen when my body says no, and I don’t let guilt decide what comes next.

It’s not about resetting or maintaining a streak. Of course, there are people who write for 100 days straight—but what about people like me, who want a balance between emotions and discipline? You don’t let emotions take over, but you do listen to your body and your environment when things don’t go your way.

I’ve seen this pattern in other parts of my life too. There’s a line between saying not today and knowing when it’s time to return. I’m still learning where that line sits, and I’m okay with adjusting it as I go.

For people like me—it’s about finding a rhythm. Going slow, then fast, and picking up pace again. Consistency looks different, and it took me a long time to even identify that. Acceptance came later.

For the longest time, I was critical of myself for not sticking to what I decided at the beginning of the month. But my energy varies, and that’s okay. Skipping a day doesn’t undo what I’m building. What matters is showing up again—without guilt, without drama—and trusting that over time, the days I return will outnumber the days I don’t.