I haven’t been writing lately. Like at all. No poetry. No stories. No blogs in five months. I even quit keeping my journal. The creative processes in my brain has quieted, shifting into the day to day routine and monotony of this Covid world we are living in.
The routine is a blessing some days. A challenge others. And some days, it is a drudgery. My spirit moves from soaring self-determination to quiet self-criticism, bordering on light depression at times.
I am richly blessed with a beautiful life. I have a lovely home, a handsome and dedicated man at my side, two curious and wonderful children. The bank account is doing great, considering I’m not traveling or spending money on things like entertainment. I’m working from home now. My therapy office is closed, but I’m busier than ever doing remote work over various computer platforms. I’m spending more time with the kids. We are coloring pictures, playing video and board games, reading books out loud, taking lots of walks. We are making plans to purchase a home and plant a garden and to get a family dog. All of those things make me soar with joy and light.
The most momentous thing to have happened since the quarantine measures, I mean besides the cancelling of school and the cancelled vacation plans and the cancelled story-telling events and not seeing friends or family for months… the most momentous thing is that the documentary I made was finished and it has debuted at various festivals. I’ll write more on this another time, but I’ll say that while it happened in a far different way than I once hoped, it has been a wonderful experience to see the story come to light.
Sometimes Covid has felt like a great opportunity for myself. I can read more. Really focus on nutrition and exercise, something I’ve been wanting to do for years. Build a few close friendships. Spend more time in my own skin. Write like never before. Make my house immaculate. Come up with a massive project that would inspire me for the next year.
But the opposite has happened, at least partially. I’m not laying around depressed every day or anything, but I’ve gone quiet on the inside. My perspectives have changed. My family relationships (boyfriend and sons) are stronger than ever. But my spirit has gone mute. I’m reading less. I’m watching more TV. At the start of the pandemic, I was riding my bike and doing intense workouts… now I’m doing lower intensity workouts and staying in to avoid the heat. I’m getting high more often, just enough to quiet the brain. Weirdly, I’m also sleeping better (maybe not so weirdly). I’m reaching out to friends less. My libido is lessened. I’m eating less junk food, but I’m not hitting the nutrition goals. I’m reading more comic books and finding silly projects to write about in order to avoid my brain getting crazy.
I miss being hungry. I miss telling stories. I miss having my feet on unfamiliar streets. I miss friends. I miss dancing. I miss live theater and music. I miss seeing clients in person instead of over a computer screen.
I don’t have a lot to say today, but I needed a place to voice my thoughts. I needed a spot to write down, to have a record of my experiences. I want to jump start my brain again. I want to be excited about life, to find poetry in the world. I want to form more healthy habits.
Life is absolutely wonderful. I am safe and well and loved. And yet it is important to let the soul express the rest as well. Maybe writing more regularly will awaken my hunger in other areas as well.
I miss being hungry.