2018: The Year of the Blog

Let’s all give the painful, polite round of applause you give in a classroom after a poor presentation to my blog attempts of 2017.

I’ll wait.

Usually when you don’t hear from me for days, weeks, or months at a time, this is a sure sign that I’m stuck in one of the depressive ruts on my life road; trying to claw myself out of what seems like it should be a simple, three inch step up; sleeping disproportionate amounts to recover from the mental exhaustion of the task; isolating myself because non-rut people are terrifying to talk to – okay, let’s be honest, it’s difficult to connect to anyone when you’re a struggle bus of apathy…


Imagine this with me:

I have no idea what will come next as I board the airplane with a backpack and a pug, taking off during sunrise to begin a new job (and subsequently a totally new life). I arrive in the 100º desert, squinting against the sun in search of a water source to balance my new arid residence (spoiler alert: there are none). A two Walmart runs, a handful of javelina sightings, and a few weeks later, I’m settled. Apartment, new office, and even a new blog marking this moment in my journey. I’m thrilled!

My debut blog is sparked. Writing this flowed naturally to me. It wasn’t a chore but instead a blessing for me to be able to share mini anecdotes of my life. The decision was made: I will write every week.

One week later, my new post isn’t out. I struggled a little with forcing myself to sit down long enough to write something coherent. Finally something is written.

Then, A list of Arizona’s similarities with hell pops up, albeit past my disgruntled self-imposed deadline.

A fourth post should be in the making, but I’m stuck. Although creativity still exists (I’m sure, somewhere) there is no product. Ideas are fleeting, as well as the life of the sticky notes they are scribbled on before they are lost. I just can’t seem to do it. I can’t “just fucking write.”

This is reminiscent of some of my cloudiest times: late submitted assignments, writer’s block to the point of “failure,” and an Ivy that brushes it off because “I simply can’t do anything about it now.” Sounds like a pretty shitty case of the dreaded depression… right?


I’m not spending ungodly hours in bed, but rather a steady 7-8 hours nightly. My productivity meter isn’t showing a 0º Kelvin equivalent, but instead I am marking projects off my to do list. Unlike before when I couldn’t push away negative thoughts, now I can’t stop the dreams of the future, ideas to tackle my next big thing, the passion to be the best me I can be. I’m not yearning for my bed because “I don’t want to deal with this shit.” I’ve dealt with it today, I worked hard, and I’m ready to do it the next day. I’m wanting my bed because I am actually tired and like a normal person I will wake and feel replenished.

I’m busy.

Not just busy, productive (society often mistakenly interchanges these words). Not busy for the sake of being busy to get things off my mind, but the desire to accomplish something worthwhile.
In this weird alternative universe that I wouldn’t have been able to imagine a year ago, I don’t blog. I want to say right here that “I didn’t have the time,” but that’s not true. You can always make time for the things you want to do. I was too “busy” engaging in building other parts of my life that have been neglected for far longer than my blog.

All this said, there still lies a few disclaimers.

  • This wasn’t a magic cure, over the night, life-is-great switch. This took, and continues to take, work and self development to push my boundaries and goals.
  • Not every day is a breeze. I’m not as productive every day as I would like to be. I got a few colds and fought with a few negativities, but the good outweighs the bad.
  • Lastly, blogging is still something i want to do. It remains important for me for the reasons I have listed before, as well as to share pieces of my life with those I love and strangers who I don’t know, but love them too.

With all of the above, and more, I dub 2018 my REAL year of writing and expressing. I do not  say “new year, new me,” but rather “new year, same me, but better.” I have a new perspective on health, goals, and peace that I aim to hold on to. And although my goal was for this to be my “New Years” post, the health and peace in me balance this disappointment with an “It’s okay. Keep going.”

I hope you keep going with me this year – The Year of the Blog.

P.S. The voice used to think to myself in my head (come on, everyone has one), is on a British accent kick today…

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