I made the realization that it isn’t lack of motivation or will which holds me back from writing. It’s a desire to not think. To not form conscious thought.
And I can see the parallels to the burnout that I experienced years ago. Burnout that I came out the other side of, scarred but enlightened.
But it’s not something I care to experience again.
However, many of my release mechanisms no longer exist.
Going to the bar with friends, not gonna happen with Covid.
Going out to dinner at my favorite restaurant? Can’t. They closed down. They’d been open for the majority of my life but couldn’t sustain during covid shutdowns. It’s understandable as their food didn’t travel well but it was amazing and I’ll never have it again.
I used to eat a meal then sit in their parking lot watching these giant trees wave in the breeze. Just getting lost in the moment.
I used to eat a weekly lunch with 2 of my best friends. We’d talk about our lives and it was extremely important to me. But covid ended that.
I have other means that help but it’s not enough.
I don’t know what to do. I recognize the problem. But those were relationships that took years to build. Took years to feel comfortable with.
And I just don’t know.