Monday, April 7

That time I quit blogging for a month

The fact is, this semester has just plain sucked. I haven't been my best self. I've been self loathing. I've overindulged in my own problems. I've let a crappy professor dictate how I feel about my writing. I've complained and complained and complained without doing anything about it. I stopped blogging because I knew I was just being a turd. I knew I'd dealt with much bigger problems and yet I let dinky ones get in the way of happiness. I don't know what feeling bad for myself for a month means but when it finally all just become silly, I did something about it. And then life became better.

In two weeks, I've gotten a job as a barista, scored an internship for this spring and into next summer, started volunteering at a nursing home, and returned back to hiking and running again. The action of doing something rather than sitting at home in bed with my journal and a sweet boyfriend to complain to made all the difference. 

So, I guess I'm back. I'm back and I miss blogging and I sort of miss my old self. I'm ready to do again. Chalk it up to a winter that never ended, a professor tell me I sucked, a series of migraines and colds that didn't seem to end, stuffing as many credits as possible into a semester so I can study abroad next spring, or immaturity- but a month of doing nothing proved to be the kick in the pants I needed. 

A couple weeks ago, while I was volunteering, I wasn't anxious to make the rounds to the ward of the nursing home of older folks who aren't active or talkative. It's hard to watch people who seem to have given up, but it's harder to watch people who seem to have given up because they've reached the stage of their life where their reasons for living exist only in their past. However, as I made my way down the hallway, one gentleman sat in his wheelchair outside his room. I've met him once and he barely smiled when I introduced himself. I knew his family lived states away and he spent most of his time reading alone. This time, though, I said hi and asked if he wanted to play a board game. 

He looked at me and said, "Girlie, you don't look old enough to ask a man if he wants to play a board game." 

He followed this statement with a wink and then looked me directly in the eye. I stared in shock and then, at the same time, we both started laughing. It was the only reminder I needed. Life is too serious to take so seriously sometimes.
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