Return of the Blog

If you didn’t read the title of this most recent entry to the tune of Mark Morrison’s 1996 hit, then I can’t help you. 

Hi. Hello. Howdy. What’s up? Is this thing on? Can you hear me?

After a casual 1.5 year hiatus, I thought I would fire up the ol' laptop and check in. Why did I stay away so long? I got a list, if you got time. But, just in case you don’t have THAT much time, I’ll maybe simplify or better yet, explain in instalments. So here’s the first one.

I left you all at the height of my engagement euphoria, the precipice of my most recent life level complete. Don’t worry, the wedding went ahead and I am now over 7 months into our first marital year. And it’s great, it’s swell, I really like my husband.  Very happy with my choice.  I have so many stories about the planning process, the way things went down, the dos and don’ts.  I am also still healing from the over-arcing, slow-motion tidal wave of anxiety that deposited me on the other side of my last post right smack dab in the middle of this pandemic.

The end of my last entry read like this: “Wild things may run fast but free things stand still and listen.”

It’s strange to read that because I think from that moment on, I switched from being free to being wild again. But it was not a fun wild. It was like getting on the weird spinny ride where the centrifugal force slams you against the side of the metal basket and you can’t breathe. I ceased feeling any consistent calmness for what seems like until a couple weeks ago. This unique time in our collective human experience has brought my whirling, writhing anxious self to a grinding, screeching halt and I’m not so much standing still out of choice but out of necessity. I wouldn’t say there is a sense of calm now, but it’s certainly quiet. Still. Inert. I keep doubling back on the same thoughts, feelings and ideas. Like I’m circling the landing strip looking for a safe place to touch down. A holding pattern. I think that might be the theme for a lot of us right now. This downtime, or uprooting of our usual routine should be a great time to dust off our unfinished projects or finally take that online course. A time to better ourselves so we can emerge stronger and smarter and ready for bigger success in life. Except there is no real light at the end of the tunnel and we don’t even know if this tunnel ends. It’s just a winding, damp, echoing chamber with minimal if any companions to commiserate with. Most of us are lucky if we get out of bed, brush our teeth or even hydrate. We’re just buzzing around at low altitude, unable to land. We’re anxious about our fuel running out, supplies dwindling. I am realizing now, most of the things I had been doing up until this point were basic survival tactics I’d picked up over the last 4 decades. Part maintenance, part self-soothing. Now, (and maybe it was that uproarious Scorpio moon) I find myself doing something I have NEVER done before. I’m starting slow. Phase One was staying sane at all costs. Phase Two is adding one thing at a time. An hour of something inspirational, ten minutes of breathing, 30 minutes of writing. A walk around the blog. Eat an apple. Hydrate. If I can, repeat it once more before the day is over. Do it again tomorrow. This is my 30 minutes. 

See you next week.