10 Years of Blogging, 1 Year of Nothing

24 December, while being Christmas Eve, is also the day I normally celebrate my Blogiversary. The day in which I decided, in 2004, to start keeping a blog. It’s a day on which I reflect of all the things blogging has done for me, whether that makes sense or otherwise.

In most respects it has, because of the opportunity it gives me to vent. This year, however, it hasn’t. Not properly. I’ve used it very rarely, and, even then, only on the same subject of my attempt to come to terms with who I am. I suppose that still counts.

But it hasn’t been enough. I have made some mistakes this year. In fact, quite a lot. And sometimes just stopping and reflecting every week or two is an interesting experience, to think carefully about what I’ve done, and wonder whether the present course is doing me right.

I haven’t done that enough. I’ve been a bit more self-centred than I’ve ever been this last year. And that self-centredness has led to me even fewer periods in front of my computer. Just me, my brain and my typing fingers. Not enough times.

Never mind. Perhaps it was inevitable that one day I’d have some sort of significant change in my circumstances that meant I wouldn’t either a) feel the need; or b) have the opportunity to write about my life.

But right now, none of it matters. I am home, amongst my family, and with my partner. That bit is a secret. But the holiday, the relaxing, the family shenanigans… they are all real. And they make me feel happy.

The biggest irony? I type this while everyone else is watching EastEnders. A show I hate, and one my family watches. I hide while they get on with the inevitable. But I wouldn’t have it any other way. Families are all about acceptable compromises.

Merry Christmas.

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