Starting Over Again (and Again)

It’s been a long while since I’ve posted.  I’ve fallen off the writing wagon again.  I always do, even when I have a good rhythm going.  I haven’t written anything in any form, and that usually means I’m in a tough spot.  There are reasons.  Good reasons.  There are always good reasons not to do something – if that’s how you’d like to spend your mental energy.

My life’s been all over the place, and it’s almost just settling back down: new job, new commute, new home, new dog, new exercise regimen.  There has been nothing solid to hold onto.  I usually embrace change, but a lot of change takes a toll mentally.  I injured my shoulder a while back, and now I can no longer do yoga.  That used to be my center.  It was exercise and mediation all in one.  Now both are gone.  I used to be able to do that before going to work, and that meant I could start my day in a state of calm.  Gone and gone.  To be replaced by a nice long commute into a different city with a high crime rate.

I’ve started a new job and a new hobby, so I’m at the bottom of the learning curve again.  On the one hand, it’s nice not to have expectations put on you – no one can fault you for being bad at something you’ve just started.  At the same time, every day is an exercise in frustration management.  Or here’s another analogy: bobbing around in a sea of uncertainty.

This isn’t supposed to be a complaint post, I think those serve no purpose.  I’m hashing thoughts into words, like I used to do.  Writing can be therapeutic, a way of finding your way back to yourself, or back to the person you know you can be.  I don’t always write as the person I am in the moment – usually a combination of frustrated, hormonal, and slightly depressed (let’s be honest) – I like to write in the voice of my ideal self.  I find that person much more interesting.