The year I didn’t blog.
This was the year that I quit. I quit everything. I quit guitar lessons. I quit salsa dancing. I quit my softball team. I quit relationships. I quit blogging.
I guess that quit might be too a strong word. Stopped might be better. I stopped going. I stopped caring. I stopped showing up. I didn’t purposely leave any of those things. I didn’t yell, “I QUIT!” and storm off in a huff. There were no calculated decisions. No pros and cons lists.
I just didn’t have the energy to keep going. With anything. And so, I stopped.
I spent most of the year trying to claw myself out of a bad situation. But the more I tried the more I got pushed back down. And then everything felt even worse. And so, I stopped trying at that too.
Sorry if I’m vague here but it’s something I can’t talk about online. I promise I’m OK. I’m just not happy.
I never stopped blogging. Blogging has always been one of the things that’s made me happiest. But, for a time, this year, I rarely wrote anything. In all, I wrote 21 posts this year. 22, I suppose, if you count this one. Five of those were in January. The next five spread from February through July. There were four months where I didn’t write a thing. Part of it was that it was hard to write when I knew I couldn’t write the truth, what I was really feeling. And that cloud over my head was a cloud over my writing. And then I just lost any energy to write anything at all.
I’m back, though, kind of, sort of, with a renewed energy and a different focus. I’m taking different steps this time. Stepping towards what I really need instead of temporary fixes. It sucks more in the meantime but I’m hoping that, eventually, things will work out.
Sorry, vague. Whatever.
Anyways, since I was absent here, here is the year that I didn’t blog…
I marched at the women’s march.
I ate. A lot.
And had a lot of doughnuts.
Speaking of eating a lot, my friend Nick came to visit for a weekend. And we ate. A lot.
I went to some festivals. And, yup, ate some stuff there.
And I went to Ribfest, where I watched other people eat.
I celebrated Fourth of July in Chicago for the first time in almost 10 years.
I played some skeeball. The one thing I didn’t quit.
I went to the Field Museum to see the tattoo exhibit.
And the Smart Museum to see…concrete…
And I briefly dated a guy who took me to see concrete.
My mom fractured both of her shoulders and I had to take care of her and her crazy dog for a week.
And I did a bunch of other random things…
And, in case you missed it, here are some of the things I actually did blog about this year:
I wrote about why I need a husband. (Mostly to have someone to make me pancakes and do the dishes.)
I saw Hamilton. (And, sorry, wasn’t as obsessed with it as you probably are.)
I took in all the cats. OK, like three.
And I organized my apartment based on the KonMari method. Including my clothes and my papers.