It’s been 6 years since my last post, almost to the day.

For someone who gets such enjoyment out of stringing words together it’s a sorry state of affairs. I stopped doing something that made me happy and found excuse after justification after reason as to why I couldn’t:

No time. No interest. No motivation. No physical energy. No mental energy. No headspace. No point.

So I went cold turkey. I stopped writing and buried my head so deep in the sand I was at risk of developing an Aussie twang.

In my defence, the last six orbits of the sun have been particularly challenging: Covid isolation, new diagnosis, perpetual exhaustion, endless pain, middle of the night bleakness, anxiety overload, heavy black clouds, self-doubt, self- sabotage, unpacking the past, counselling that helped, counselling that didn’t, fallouts, moving house, renovating, setting up a business, impending menopause, debt and death. In short, a complete shit show of a time leaving not a scrap of ‘joie de vivre’ with which to write.

Which brings me to the here and now and why I’m finally pulling my head from the sand and the proverbial finger from arse. Tomorrow I turn 50. Half a century. A Golden Jubilee. Apparently an occasion that should be enthusiastically celebrated and treasured. I just want to weep.

A year ago, with this unwelcome milestone looming upon the horizon, I vowed to get my life, body and mojo back on track before ’50’ hit. Seemed like a reasonable sort of goal at the time. Sure I’d still be sick, tired and popping pills, but I wanted to be fitter, stronger, toned, motivated and, most importantly, back doing the things I love.

What I hadn’t counted on was that little bitch Peri (menopause) upping the anti and screwing up my plans. I knew she was coming but I didn’t expect her pure bloody mindedness. So now my ‘positivity deadline’ expires in 2 hours, and, as it currently stands, I’m no fitter, probably weaker than a fledging sparrow, definitely more dimpled and with a new roll of back fat to boot. My ‘motivation’ can be found hiding under a blanket on the sofa.

So I’m determined to at least tick one thing off my list and get back to the ‘something I love’. Writing.

Press publish, finger up to Peri and Happy Birthday to me.