Wading through autumnal mud

On Instagram I wrote:

I don’t know how I manage to forget, every year, that I will slow down and grind to a halt as the seasons change. I will want to hibernate, and eat all the chocolate, and each and every day will be like wading through mud.

I don’t know how I forget that lying in bed doesn’t help, what helps is getting outside and getting active. Challenging myself to take the camera and find a picture that I can be proud of helps. Sharing that picture with a community is good – but then I need to put the device down and *do* rather than falling down the rabbit hole of clicking from site to site.

I know it’s not just me. I know that I can manage this better. I may not be here as much because I need to get all of this under control, but I’ll try to keep up with everyone as best I can.


And then I stopped, because Instagram should be for quick pictures and short thoughts, not woe is me essays. And yet I have far more readers and interaction there than I do here any more, because it’s built around community. (Although a tiny bit of me is wondering what community I could have built here, if I’d put daily work into posting and publicising and how do you publicise a blog without a community around it? I don’t know.)

The rest of the woe is me is around the fact that my shoulder hurts and my hip hurts and apparently I should just build my shoulder up and you have to put in separate referrals for different parts of your body (which doesn’t make any sense to me, surely a body is built up of all the parts together and they interact?) and trying to be active and outdoors is really hard when just walking to the shops hurts.

Woe. Doom. But I bought vitamins and actually took them and now I’m going to bed after doing a drawing and tomorrow I’ll try all over again.

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