I guess I start back up every year around the same time. Every December. Maybe it’s to fight seasonal depression and throw myself into creativity. Maybe it’s to get ahead of the coming year and start on a more productive foot. Who knows? I guess some part of me knows. Something knows why I keep coming back to blogging even though I’m never consistent. I love writing and I’ve truly missed it, so I need to stop framing it as a chore in my own mind. What am I afraid of? I’ve formed habits less enjoyable than writing. But then again that’s it isn’t it? Anything we do on a schedule is usually not something we do voluntarily. Not usually anyway. These days it’s a march of work schedules, bill schedules, class schedules, etc. While not all jobs and classes are necessarily a chore, it’s one’s own level of enthusiasm that takes the grind out of the task.
Thinking of things in the same category as bills and better spending habits can make even the most fun activity seem draining. Trying to add the same amount of effort and structure to something recreational instantly gives me anxiety because consistency is something I’ve struggled with my whole life.
So, long story short, no rules motherfucker. You might see me here, you might not. Just because I’m not great at one part doesn’t mean I have throw blogging away entirely. I’m doing my best and when I am here I’m going to truly enjoy my time. Not stress so much the words turn into soup. I’m me, flaws and all. For once, I truly a accept that.