I’ve not written for over three weeks now, which was not my intention at all. I’m back at work with my second job, which required a bit of an adjustment. Also, there’s still my freelance writing, which takes precedence as it is paid work.

I don’t feel good about neglecting my blog, however. Instead, I feel guilty about it. Which is not great. It tempts me to sit down and force myself to come up with something new, even though I lack the energy to do that.

Obviously, I have not written anything, forced or otherwise.

I have been thinking. About a million things. Travelling. Relationships. Friendships. Moving on and moving forward. Work. Writing. Work. Progress.

Whilst the pandemic is not over by any means, life is returning to normal. I worked my secondary job full-time in June. I visited my parents for my mom’s birthday. I’ve booked a little getaway for summer, which will mean a few days of taking my motorbike up north and touring around the area.

But a part of me has yet to catch up from spending seven months in lockdown. Priorities are shifting, the outside demand for my time is growing, I’m asked to plan further ahead than just a few days.

Lockdown was difficult. Lonely. I truly don’t need that much time to myself, and I am an introvert. I am ready to get back into things, to make plans, to travel, to pursue goals that have been on hold for too long.

Hence the thinking I’ve been doing for the last few weeks. I suppose, with the sudden shift of normalcy returning, I have been trying to synchronise my mental and emotional state with the outward aspects of my life. There was a lot of catching up to do, which is likely going to continue for some time to come.

But I am ready to get back into it with everything that I am.