I realized recently that my old personal site wasn’t loading. My fault, really. I was relying on automatic WordPress updates but not double-checking, and the database was hacked.
I hadn’t written anything new in years. I post to Instagram & Twitter, but those are fleeting images and thoughts with no staying power. Even my personal journal has become a basic checklist of how I’m feeling that particular week. None of this requires effort. None of it is presented with any social engagement in mind. I toss it off and forget it.
It isn’t only my output that’s slackened off. I used to read books; novels, biographies, histories. I used to dig into long magazine articles, curled up on the sofa with a cup of coffee.
In 2018 I have read three books. In 2017 I read eight or so and that felt like a lot. I used to read at least a dozen each year.
None of this is unique to me, of course. I can blame social media, politics, social upheaval, stress, and mental health issues. All come into play for sure. But I don’t think it matters if it’s a widespread phenomenon, or if there are plenty of explanations and excuses because I need to crawl back to myself, rediscover the woman with a critical eye and endless curiosity and a drive to build something, however small and however limited the audience, where before there was nothing.
This is my personal kick in the ass. The internal and external forces that have been sitting on top of my head for years need to GTFO and I need to keep the space they were using filled.