When I launched this blog in January, I very quickly got hooked on the metrics function. This series of bar and line graphs gave me a sense of the rhythm of my readers—not who, but how many and how often and when.

It’s fun building a blog following, one reader at a time, but that skinny line, snaking along the X-Y axis, or the numerals beside the little red hearts were also distracting. Instead of thinking about what to say, now I was asking myself, “Which posts are most popular?” “Which days of the week are people most likely to visit?” and most distracting of all, ”Do you like me?”

I mentioned my fascination with metrics to a writer friend, and she said, gently, “that way madness lies,” and I knew she was right. Metrics threatened not only to take the joy out of blogging but also to skew my thinking and approach.

Then along came Lent and I thought about giving up my metrics obsession. Chris gives up something for Lent every year, in order to “mark time,” to “appreciate life,” and ‘‘to take part in a ritual,” he says. He used to give up wine and martinis. This year he gave up crosswords because he was reading a biography of Ronald Knox, an English Anglican priest, and he gave up crosswords. (“He loved crosswords and so do I,” was all I could get by way of explanation.)

My previous attempts at giving up for Lent—pastries, coffee, dessert—resulted in my feeling deprived and binging, so this year, I tried something new; instead of “giving up” metrics, I freed myself from metrics—a fine but important distinction that works better for me (thank you, Gretchen Rubin).

In its earliest stages, an idea is a fragile thing. It often doesn’t hold up to scrutiny or questions or faint praise. Before, I’d given up blog or essay ideas because I sought feedback at the outset. A new idea is like holding a baby bird in your hand and wondering if she’ll ever be strong enough to fly. For that reason I kept this blog secret for a year until I’d accrued more than 20 posts. I wanted to flesh out the idea until I felt strong enough to share it with two friends and, of course, with Chris.

Chris keeps his book projects under wraps until an idea is fully formed. (In the early years, he then passed the dummy off to me to read to my 1st graders; they were the first to vet Yo! Yes? and Blushful Hippopotamus, for instance.)

I knew metrics threatened to mess with that quiet headspace I’d cultivated during the year I blogged only for myself, so I shut it down.

So, dear visitor, thank you for coming! But I won’t know if you were here, at least not until after Easter.