Hello my lovely chums.
Yet another week has gone by, along with another set of cobwebs on my blog. I did okay for a week or two, posted once a week like I promised I would, but last weekend was a ‘can you not, life?!’ weekend, so I just didn’t. My bad.
The thing is, I think I secretly love-to-hate blogging. My on-off relationship with it is like most things in my life – shambles – and I think I get a sudden thrill of knowing I’ve still not managed to get my life into order.
I love blogging. I love having an outlet to get my thoughts out of my head, realising them from tormenting me. It instantly makes me feel better, which is why I’ll probably never stop doing it – no matter how inconsistent I am.
However, I hate all the other bits.
I hate having to schedule Tweets, think about what pictures I might post on Instagram and how to get the most engagement out of my blog – to the point I’d happily pay someone to do it for me, however ridiculous that sounds.
It’s a vicious circle: I feel guilty for not blogging, I log on to blog, I realise I haven’t posted on Twitter or Instagram for a billion years, I feel guilty and go to do it, I don’t want to do it (for old or new posts), I close computer and repeat the cycle all over again.
Obviously, I know I will never make anything out of my blog and I’m more than okay with that. As I’ve said countless times before, my blog is for no one else but me…
But, that doesn’t mean I don’t want it to slightly succeed.
Some of my closest friends when I was at my worst came from blogging. They understood me, they were there for me and they helped get me through it more than some people I’d known for a decade or more. I am where I am today because of them, and I want to get it back.
(I’m just not sure how yet)
All I know is I’ve got to get my blogging mojo back – and fast.
p.s. As you’ve been reading this, I’m currently dying on a netball court playing in a charity tournament. Please pray for me and my accident prone feet – I’m gonna need all the luck I can get not to break an ankle!