I am in the process of learning to forgive myself.
This is my first post in three months. Every now and then I dig through my handbag and see my Kindle, or my lonely bent-out-of-shape book and I feel a deep pang of regret and resent. Reading was such a huge part of my life a mere six months ago! I never went a day without reading. I thought about it at work, in the shower, while I was out with friends… but it has become like a phone call that I’m too tired to answer.
I became frustrated.
It isn’t like I haven’t tried! I’ve picked up book after book, tried comics and audiobooks but nothing seems to stick. What am I if I am not all about books? Somehow, all of the things that I have achieved these past months and all of the ways in which I have progressed my life seem somewhat trivial – and all because I can no longer sit down at the end of the day and lose myself within the folds of a novel.
It can be hard to accept that life will get in the way sometimes. But I’m learning to love myself and my life and put my everything into what I do… I am more successful in my relationships, career and emotional state than ever before.
I will be back.