There has been a lot of inconsistency in my blogging schedule of late – and this is particularly galling when I think upon the subject because it’s quite a long way away from where I started off.
In February 2016 I began for the very first time writing down how I felt about life (link) and ultimately decided to set myself the challenge of writing down every day what was on my mind and (rather counter intuitively) sending it out for everyone to read without hiding behind a pseudonym or anonymous account.
Back then I had no one to talk about but me – and my life was as insular as it got.
I was recovering from the death of my mother, trying to take my mind off wanting to (but not actually) drink three bottles of wine a day and deal with a variety of health conditions.
Oddly though I was more preoccupied back then with an absence of love – and I didn’t mean romance.
That seemed impossible – and an issue for another day.
The problem instead was that I couldn’t say with any definitive truth what it was that I felt passionate about – because ultimately I didn’t really feel passionate about anything.
I binged on video games and box sets for my pleasure and consumed media in much the same way that I consumed food.
I gorged myself on it in an effort to feel the next emotion.
Great. I’ll preorder it because it will make me happy.
New season of xxxxx TV show?
Wonderful. I’ll get the wine in and do a marathon session.
Then through writing, (a small amount of) meditation, exercise and self improvement I began to see a new truth.
In trying to understand what it had been that was missing in my life by writing about the problem I unwittingly came to realise that the method of investigation was actually my passion.
I loved to write.
Furthermore I loved to be honest.
It was right there in front of me and I grabbed onto it with both arms and held tightly. Truth was my addiction now (although occasionally coffee took its place) and I was fast becoming a two a day man.
I dreamt blogs.
I spent all of my time writing them in my head.
Everything I saw was a new post just waiting to to take shape.
This was all wonderful – but you have to be careful what you wish for – because if you find out what you truly love then get it – what do you do once you have it?
If it’s there, in unlimited supply and all it takes is you being absolutely and completely truthful with the world then what would you do?
In my case I agreed (with myself at least) some ground rules.
I would write about no one but myself without express permission, I wouldn’t say bad things about others (even if they were tossers and deserved it) and I wouldn’t talk about my professional life.
The issue is that if the things on your mind are all of the above how do you carry on doing what you love?
My quiet periods are therefore moments where I choose to say nothing instead of something bad (or maybe even something good if it’s private) about a job, a personal relationship or finances.
When those things are pretty much the only things on my mind it leads to a kind of forced mental constipation – where I feel like I want (or more specifically need) to write but can’t.
No matter how much I strain or agonise the end result is always the same. I won’t break my rules and I won’t lie about my life just to force one through the gates.
However lately my life is in a good place and it’s given my posting schedule a laxative effect.
I’m feeling less backed up.
Everyone I want to write about is ok with me including them, every event is relevant and (at least in my mind) worth writing about and the weather is lovely.
Today (since I have a partner in crime with a new swimming subscription) I hit the pool early on and we hammered out a few lengths.
Very pleasingly (after around 40 mins of swimming) I was reminded by her that we both had to do Apple Watch’s bidding to get our badges for the ‘national parks challenge’.
I love that there’s someone else in my life just as addicted as I am to our little wrist mounted miracles and their motivational objectives.
In this case we had to walk three miles in a single workout (let’s face it this is hardly a problem for me) and there couldn’t really have been a better day on which to do it.
We wound our way around St Nicholas Park, along the river Avon, down the Grand Union canal, through Victoria Park and around Jephson Gardens before finally coming to a (rather sweaty) stop outside the park cafe where we took on tea and coffee.
The fabulous thing is that it’s not just me now.
We’re planning activities together, working towards objectives together and all of our goals in life appear to align in a way I’ve never experienced before.
I don’t care if the world is sick of hearing that I’m really happy because I am.
On the plus side it means I feel that all of the things that would normally cause me to curl up into a little ball and not write are completely absent.
On the downside part of that is because I’m deferring some of my problems and worries until later – so this particular state of affairs may not remain the same forever.
Next week and the week after will no doubt see me once again beginning to agonise about what I want to be when I grow up – and I’m really not looking forward to that.
Many things in my life are sorted and settled in a way that they never ever have been before.
Others seem more broken than ever – and their resolutions appear to be so far away in the distance that I’ll never find my way to them.
However – for the meantime I feel great.
My diet is good, my life is good, the weather is smashing and I couldn’t be happier.
Here’s hoping that you guys out in internetland feel the same way too.