A whopping Fifty-seven days ago, I wrote a post about how excited I was for the new year — how I wanted to explore myself more, write more, reflect more, and engage more with life, media, and the world.
And Fifty-seven days later?
I haven’t done a single iota of that.
Now here’s the thing — I could be harsh on myself. I could spiral and call it failure.
But in the grander scheme of things… what would that actually achieve?
So allow me, for the second time this year, to reflect. And, for lack of a better word, vent — since not much ink has hit the page. Or in this case, not many keys have been pressed.
Now, the voice in my head — let’s call it the Craic Critic, aka the CC — was ready.
It had the script written.
“See? Falling off already.”
“Same pattern.”
“Nothing changes.”
Isn’t that the way of it?
A negative voice that overpowers, overwhelms, and makes you feel smaller than you’ve ever been.
CC has a tendency to make me feel like the greatest failure known to man.
Wasting time.
Chasing things that bring no camaraderie.
Putting myself through pain.
Not progressing fast enough to justify the effort.
Alas — here’s the thing.
In those same 57 days:
I’ve lost half a stone.
My lifts are creeping back toward where they were before nerve decompression surgery on my left arm — with the support and help of one Gavin Meenan (Instagram link).
My boxing with Mike Murphy (Instagram link) — while still square and stiff in my own critical eyes — is visibly sharper than it was months ago.
There are literal videos proving that.
And yet when I watch them, I don’t see improvement.
I see:
Too big.
Too stiff.
Too slow.
It’s strange, isn’t it?
We demand objectivity from the world.
But when it comes to ourselves, we let the CC take centre stage.
If a friend showed me those same clips and that same progress, I’d say:
“You’re flying. Keep going.”
But when it’s me?
The CC turns into a Premier League pundit dissecting a misplaced pass in the third minute of a match that hasn’t even settled yet.
So maybe the issue isn’t momentum.
Maybe it isn’t discipline.
Maybe it’s that I’ve been listening to the wrong voice.
Progress doesn’t shout. It whispers.
Growth isn’t cinematic. It’s incremental.
And improvement rarely feels dramatic when you’re living inside it.
Fifty-seven days without a blog post doesn’t erase fifty-seven days of effort.
Maybe the real win this year isn’t perfection.
Maybe it’s learning when to tell the CC to sit down… and let the work speak for itself and if that doesn’t work continuing on anyways
Ah — Might as well continue one thing from the last post and give you my quote for the day.
“Progress whispers. The Mind shouts. Listen for the whisper.“– Craic Attack
Slán go fóill! And Póg mo Thóin! My Craic Addicts!
Craic Attack Central 