You might be wondering if I’ve been abducted by aliens.

Or sought refuge in the Tibetan mountains and have become a Buddhist Nun.

Been eaten by a giant toad…

None of those.

I’m still here…

I just haven’t had the energy or mental space to blog this year.

Which is really sad because I used to love blogging and have very much missed it.

My M.E. has so far been the worst it’s been since childhood this year, feeling fatigued all the time, mentally and physically exhausted by the time I get home from work… and depressed.

Not that I’m really one for talking about that too much online, but my depression and anxiety have been pretty bad this year, having to take a week off work here and there and finding myself just coming home from work in the evening and being too tired to do anything other than sleep.

The evenings would always be (and Saturday morning’s) my time to blog but I haven’t had a single inkling to in a very long time.

I don’t know if it’s because I can’t think about anything other than thing’s that aren’t for the internet, or because I know my blog will never be popular so “what’s the point?”, or if I’ve just fallen out of love with it.

And like in a failing relationship, you always hope it’s something fixable, something you can change before you make the realisation that the love has gone.

The majority of us unfortunately know exactly how that feels too.

But I’m not going to put any pressure on myself to blog… if the feeling takes me and I feel up to typing out some interesting (or not so interesting) twaddle, then I will.

If I just want to binge-watch HTGAWM on Netflix under a duvet full of cats and cake, then I’ll do that instead.

You see, with this M.E. lark, brain fog is real and has infected my brain quite a bit this year and has scared me by how strong it is. By how much it has impacted my writing.

Something I used to enjoy, used to be good at, used to feel comforted by.

But now, I feel ashamed if I haven’t written.

Ashamed if when I try to write my brain can’t produce the words to form a sentence.

Ashamed that what I write isn’t for the good of other’s.

Because that’s the ultimate goal; to be a writer who makes a positive impact, who gives food for thought, raises awareness and gives a voice to the voiceless.

But first, I need to clear the fog and fight the fatigue.

Then I’ll be the writer I want to be.

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