Because Covid

 Why have I stopped writing?

I wrote for years, archiving the growth of my family and marching our way through each month. Two years,  I got up to 300+ post each. 

That's an insane amount of words and thoughts and feelings.

The bottom dropped about about 2 years ago. Something happened, my feelings got hurt and I packed away the proverbial typewriter. 

I stopped doing yoga, too. Book club changed, kids grew older, jobs changed, I was needed differently. I gained back the weight I lost before I went to Italy. Friend groups changed. Parents got older. Life got harder.

Covid came and cemented the fact that my fingers had no longer found the outlet they wanted on the keyboard.

We're 8 months into this now. The stress is high. The constant change is ever-present. Nothing is consistent, there are no plans. Everything is fluid. There is no rhythm to the day or week or month. There can't be. Because when the health department comes on TV, you know things are going to change. Again.

And I still didn't write. 

I wrote a lot in my head. I also yelled a lot at the mirror. Or the dog.

Yea, we got a dog. Another post for another day.

And last night, as my friend WK and I chatted while she walked, she told me about a short article about the benefits of therapy, journaling and meditation.

It was there that I did realize that the removal of my words from the paper, stopping therapy and yoga (or any lame attempt I had at exercise) - all came about the same time and their absence has had an impact.

A big one.

Sure, I'm fine. I'm healthy, so are the kids and Hubs. We have a house and food and heat and water. Way too many electronics and things and stuff. We are in no way, shape or form in any jeopardy. In fact, we had a pretty good run in spite of Covid. 

But the stress is insanely high. The frustrations with the dog in the kitchen and me threatening to serve her up for dinner aren't exactly her fault for being underfoot. They are the long, built-up frustrations of a global pandemic...and self-doubt...and frustration...and all the unknown reasons I lost my voice for a while.

Once I finished the article from WK, I started writing in my head. I heard Confucius say that the line we all know too well - the journey beginning with a single step. 

I probably need to find my voice again to clear the sobwebs in my head. 

I just wrote sobwebs. I meant cobwebs. But the word seems glaringly apropos. 

This might be another attempt that I don't follow through on. But that's ok. I got up, I got the computer out and I tried.

I'm honked off. Grouchy, frustrated, angry, sad and dejected.

I'm also aware this is temporary and not who I like to be.