I don't quite know how to describe my feelings as we head into this worse version of 2020. Mostly I would say that I feel invisible. Inconsequential. Non-existent. After going back into relative isolation following the holidays, I've been lonely. It's been harder to take unanswered texts, ignored messages, decreased engagement.
I didn't really set goals or make resolutions for this year. But I think one goal that is slowly forming is to step away from social media once and for all. I'm tired. I've been doing this for ten years and it doesn't make me happy. I've always enjoyed a certain aesthetic and appreciated design, I don't feel like social media has affected me caring what things look like. But it has affected how I think about everything. It takes over my days and I get nothing out of it. I miss old-school, early 2000s blogging before everyone was a brand. A lot of my favorites have disappeared or are slowly losing their relevance.
My brain has forgotten how to write. I'm uninspired. I don't think I did one creative thing in 2020. I'm trying to figure out how to get back to that without being in an echo-chamber of similar voices.
I want to get outside more. After a year of so much online schooling, online social engagements, limited access to our regular haunts, I want to find responsible ways to see and enjoy more of the world. I hope we can find new hiking trails, hit more state parks, more spontaneous road trips, that we can finally try camping.
We've spent the weeks between Christmas and the present week creating makeshift sledding paths on the small hill behind our house, learning to play chess, working through our DVD collection, playing pretend school when the kids aren't doing distance learning, breaking in our new popcorn popper, playing Mario Kart, building Legos, snacking around the clock, ordering lots of grocery delivery, playing new board games, and dealing with the saga of our car finally dying, something we've been anticipating for a while.
Willa went back to preschool a couple of weeks earlier than the other kids, and we've been struggling to find routine again. I've been struggling with going about my normal life in a world that feels like it's ending. I'm struggling to connect with people. I think more than anything I was hoping so much for this year to feel different. Better would have been a bonus. I somehow wasn't prepared for it to feel worse. I don't know where we go from here. I don't know if it gets better. I'm scheduled to get my Covid vaccine on Thursday morning. I turned in my nursing application. I deleted all of my social media apps, but the accounts are still active and waiting for me to sign back into them. I got an email from our beloved summer camp, the one that was cancelled last year after I worked so diligently to get them all into the same session. I'm still heartbroken that Ryland missed the final year he was eligible to participate. He's too old this year, but I can still try to give Wilder and Isla that experience, because according to the email, they're going ahead with camp this summer.
I felt hopeful going into this year. Part of me knew that it was foolish, but it's hard not to assign meaning to a new year. That hope was dashed on the sixth day.
