new year, old me

 It's that time of year again - of looking back and looking forward. And I can't. I just can't.

I've not been doing great at mindfulness, filling the emptiness with podcasts and music instead, but I am still living in the moment insumuch as Now is all that exists for me. This is not all that helpful, actually. As well as not being able to plan ahead more than just saying "yes" when someone else suggests a thing, I don't seem to have done anything. Or maybe I have and I've just forgotten. But I certainly didn't do anything significant last year - no holidays, no larps, no dates, no home improvements. I played some D&D. I went dancing. My son turned 21 and got a family meal only because a good friend stepped in to help book a table. Exercise, eating heathily, not drinking an entire bottle of wine in an evening all, all fell by the wayside. I definitely read some books, and some were good. I wrote some blog posts, and some stories, I'm not sure any of them were good. 

And I can't see this year being any different. Because I can't imagine how I can change for the better. I found it hard enough to look after myself, to try and make our life better when it was me and Jess. Alone? I don't stand a chance. 

I keep thinking back to when she begged me to keep writing, because she wanted to read it, and said she'd do anything to help me find the time. I still didn't. And now, even when I try writing just for me, with no intention of publishing it here or elsewhere, I struggle. Because, what's the point of writing if not for a reader? And the reader I cared most about is gone. 

I still want to finish this short story that's sat in my drafts for a couple of months now. I have a vague idea of how it should go. I have a feeling I want to capture. I just don't think I can do it justice. I don't know who will read it. But I know who won't. So "what's the point?" keeps working it's way into my head and I don't have an answer for that. I never have an answer for that. 

I've probably written more blog posts about not writing than any other subject, it is, of course, my favourite way to procrastinate. So sorry for another one. But this is me now, stuck on repeat.