Is This Thing On?

I was about 200 words into this post when I stopped & came back up here to insert this disclaimer: There is no point to this, I’m just getting words out. Carry on.

I haven’t touched this blog in so long.

I haven’t written in so long.

I haven’t let myself write in so long.

The last few times I wrote, I wrote in my journal because I had no intention of sharing that with the world anytime soon. But if I’m being honest, I’ve stopped doing even that. If you’ve read this blog for any length of time, you probably know I hate writing. That’s not an exaggeration, I really do hate it. I don’t enjoy the process & all the vulnerability it requires of me. I don’t enjoy confronting things–things I’m already aware of, yet choose to live like they’re not real. I don’t enjoy figuring out exactly why I feel a certain way about something. I’ve always hated it, and yet, I did it. Because sometimes it was necessary. Because sometimes, the after effects were cathartic. I did it, until I stopped.

I’ve needed to write for almost a year now, and I refuse to. Even now, typing these words in bed while I eat Oreos I will hate myself for eating in the morning, I’m not sure what to say.

COVID-19 is really doing a number on the planet. I’m scared for what the world will look like 6 months from now, not because I expect the death toll to be some ridiculous number, but because I feel like we’re in the middle of some life-changing, forever-altering event. So far, I haven’t had any loved one fall sick (or worse), and dear God I’m praying it stays that way. I was talking to dad over the weekend and saying how I hate that I’m complaining about how being at home due to COVID is making me feel, because I know people worried about their jobs (I’m not), I know people forced to take pay cuts (I won’t be), and I know people who still have to go into work every day (I don’t). It feels like people have real worries, and me saying I hate being forced to stay home feels kinda silly.

COVID-19 is really doing a number on me. It’s hard to explain to people, because they almost all go “well you weren’t really the type to go out much before this anyway, so everything now is basically normal for you” & I don’t know how to explain that this is different. At least before all this I could look forward to leaving the house 5 days a week to head to the office; I don’t even have that anymore. And beyond that, it’s different. It just is. I don’t like spending this much free time at home, and as soon as we’re able to freely go outside again, I will cherish it more.

I need to build healthy relationships, and I need new friends. Good friends. Actual friends. Quite a few of them. Hopefully, some of them in Atlanta too.

Nugs told me something a few years ago that I’ve since called The Maze Theory. The idea is, just like a mouse in a maze just keeps moving and if it meets a dead end, it turns and tries another direction, until it makes it out of the maze through sheer persistence, there’s this faith that even when we’re not sure what God wants from us, we just keep moving and trusting that if we’re headed in the wrong direction, much like a mouse in a maze, we’ll meet a dead end that will leave us with no choice but to turn back and try a different path. It’s a very inefficient way of following God’s plan (and really, I wouldn’t recommend this be a system you adhere to for the rest of your life), but it makes sense. And when I’m trying to do something & I find myself failing repeatedly in a frustrating manner, I hold on to the belief that it wasn’t the right path for this mouse to take in the maze.

I’m a big believer in things happening when they’re supposed to. I do not say this to encourage passiveness, but I’ve found that things happen in their season, and if it’s not time, you cannot force it to happen, try as you may. It’s another thing I hold on to, when I feel like I’m toiling to no avail.

I need new friends around me. I need my people.


One thought on “Is This Thing On?

  1. rainbowsandgreys says:

    I read this like I wrote it.
    I could have.
    Everyome tells me to write, that I could be amazing at it, that I am amazing at it. They dont get it. That if I write, I will need to open doors I think are better left shut or is there a way to write without showing your heart? Sigh. I hate writing, it takes me in, it pulls me out. And I want to stay safe. Yet here we are, writing this when I could have just gone back to bed.
    How could I, though if we’re in the same place, though I’ve never been to Atlanta. Because this is supposed to be my ‘doing’ year, when I return to all the places and activities which fed my soul. I even wrote an eight-line thing. It felt like victory. I went to a spoken word thing too, that felt like freedom. It was supposed to be my ‘friendship’ year too, I cut a birthday cake for a colleague at work the other day and it didnt feel so awful. I even got invited by another to a thing on the weekend (I never went to those). But this is my friendship year. I dont want to not have people. I want to find my tribe. I want a tribe I dont have to hide from. But the fire nation attacked and here we are.

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