It happens. I love writing, but I also love lying in bed, and I love spending time with the kids and Mason, and also I love not feeling like garbage every time I go to the gym so I have to go regularly. Furthermore I enjoy eating and living in my own house, and I have to go to work to make that stuff happen. It all eats away at journalling.
But I think the most important factor is just that I lost interest in myself. It happens from time to time. Sometimes, when my life is short of funny stories and wacky anecdotes, I wonder what the point is. Or when I’m just fighting up the same slope as I was before.
I kind of snapped out of it on the weekend, though. I’ve been getting lazy about my Bunch articles because it seemed like when I was punctual I would create an embarrassing backlog, so I decided to hold back. I cranked out a new article on Saturday, an uncontroversial piece called “We can wait to find out the sex of our babies” that’s certain to make all parents happy. It didn’t take me long, either, which suggests I have more words floating around in me than I had banked on.
Anyway, read it over and let me know what you think. There’s already a negative comment, so there’s nowhere to go but up.