i've been asked by several friends lately why i'm no longer writing. they list a number of excuses and my only response is "not exactly."
i didn't stop due to a lack of things to talk about. in fact, that's the complete opposite issue that i'm facing. and maybe it's partly because i have trouble organizing my thoughts well enough to write down what it is that's bothering me. i'll be honest though. there are hundreds of reasons why i stopped writing, but it all boils down to one main common theme: time.
i don't have time to write.
i could go on for an eternity as to why my days are so full of doing things. but that's the price of adulthood - or in some cases, a lack thereof, if you're the only one who does things. outside of work, i practice self-care and it has become an integral part of my being. it will hopefully continue to speed up the healing process and let me someday live a normal life again. or at least, that's my end goal. while i'm not where i was a year ago and there's definite progress in healing, it doesn't happen overnight. i've come to terms with this even when everyone else hasn't. i refuse to let it slow me down (although sometimes it still might - hey, wait up, i got these tiny little legs!)
it becomes increasingly difficult to have a well rounded life when two, well, three things take up the majority of my time. but when i can remove certain variables, more time becomes an option. even though time these days is almost an illusion. hell, look at this 4.5 day weekend right now. where the fuck did it go?
in just 5 days, i'll have my own place for the first time in 29 years. since moving to toronto nearly 6 years ago, my goals included getting a job and moving out on my own. i've had hit and miss roommates, including one roommate from literal hell that makes me never want to live with anyone ever again. okay, that's an exaggeration. maybe i'll get lonely. maybe i'll always need someone around to reach those items on the top shelf. but the idea of being on my own is the most exciting and scary thing going for me right now. i need the independence. i need the quiet. i need the ability to do my own thing.
it might be difficult to understand, but after living with a roommate you don't particularly enjoy, it changes you. unfortunately for me, my roommate situations haven't always been the best. and i'm ready for that next step to call my own place home with just a single tenant occupancy. but fuck, toronto, could you calm your shit with the rent prices? it took 6 years to get to a point where i could finally afford to be somewhere without roommates and compared to most friends, i'm extremely good with my money.
time might be the biggest common theme with my lack of writing but there is always more to the story. when you really enjoy doing something, there's always time for it. i've spent the better part of the last two years or so spending less and less time on social media. my blog and everything it was set out to do, didn't quite serve a purpose any longer. i continuously had all these thoughts in my mind where i'd think that the topics would make a fantastic blog post and no time to write them. this is one thing i want to change. writing used to be an outlet for me to understand whatever was stressing me out. whatever was keeping me up at night. these stressful things no longer keep me awake at night. instead, they get overlooked and pushed away.
maybe it's because i can't change the things i complain about regarding work. maybe it's because i don't have any complaints about dudes in my life because there's only one who makes things better and not worse. maybe it's because i don't tend to complain about life as a whole as much any longer. maybe i'd rather listen and help than attempt to bore you with the little things that bother me. maybe it's because despite it all, things are finally coming together the way they're meant to be, even if it isn't what i expected 6 years ago.
maybe i'll write again in a week or a year. maybe i just need more time.
