Before joining, I used to constantly talking about blogs, what I read or what I would have written/ said about a topic and I took the plunge. I honestly thought I would have been more regimental as I normally am in everything I do.
But, actually, as much as I love reading and writing in general, I found myself speechless, I can’t create a paragraph without thinking “oh, that’s so basic/stupid/who cares”.
And I stopped caring about my blog.
Then a second lockdown happened, after moving to the new place, just for four weeks. I was making plans, cautiously, bout Christmas, New Years and so on. I stopped reading and watching news. I was doing ok. But as work got busier and I got tired every night, I didn’t even think about blogging.
December, 19th. Tier 4. Non essential places closed and for the first time in 13 years, I could have Christmas off.
I know most people have all the festivities off and they come as relief. But for me, they mean WORK, WORK, WORK. and I didn’t have any of that. It was mental: on Boxing Day, I Would have normally woken up before 4 to be at work for 5am and carried on until 3pm, then come home, shower and chill.
This year… I didn’t have to. And it felt weird. Texts from friends who unbelievably felt the same way as me “so weird not being at work” or “ is this even Christmas” flooded every other hour.
Days became weeks and then, last week, another national lockdown began. It feels like running in a circle where there isn’t a way out because it is actually a labyrinth. It could last until end of February or maybe March. We cannot leave the city because where would you go when you are told to stay at home. And why would you even consider going places? It is hard. Hard because here we are again. We have all became judges when we are out and about, moaners when you see someone not wearing the mask properly. We all blame the government which has to be blamed for some of it but why is it difficult to follow the rules?
I don’t want to dwell on it, I read so many opinionated blogs/articles about this and it is enough. But it is me that I’m surprised about.
With all this time off, I didn’t manage to write ANYTHING. I keep myself busy : yoga and this time, running. Walking and listening to podcasts is still a daily routine but it is bloody winter and let’s welcome the January blues.
I already said that the first lockdown came at the right time, I worked so much last Christmas, we didn’t go on holidays, we had so many issues with the previous house, one issue on top of the other and the three months off were a blessing. I was prepping my blogs, reading, writing drafts, perfecting them and I was honestly looking forward to the “publishing” day. Then I stopped.
I woke up this morning, took a shower and, while sipping my coffee, looked outside and saw the icy park. It’s -2 degrees and I don’t want to run in the freezing cold. I don’t want to go later, because the path will be heaving with people ( I went for a run on Thursday and it was so busy people were walking in line, keeping distance but it was unreal).
So I picked up my iPad and decided to give it a go. I want to write down all my thoughts about why I haven’t written anything since last year. Was it boredom? Or was it self doubt? A bit of both. But as I’m typing, I feel like this smile coming up, like I know I can go back to the moment I decided I wanted to write a blog. I just need to be more committed to it.
I’m not blogging for people to read what I’m saying, I think there are millions of people who are typing the same sentence as me. But it gives me joy. I’m not going to lie when I say my brain is making somersaults as I put letters together.
I can do this. I did it in the past.
Oh, thank god for blogging.