3 years. It’s been 3 years. My very first post was published on 7 May 2021. I’ve reread that very first go round and remembering my tag line – removing the unimportant details and getting right to it – I’d say that over the last 3 years, that’s what I’ve done. And I’m going to fucking well continue to do just that until I can’t be bothered any more. I’ve got lots to write about.
My scribblings have become a weekly highlight, a reminder, a lighthouse in the fog of the week for me. Something to aim for and a place to channel how I am thinking and feeling. Sometimes joy, sometimes white hot anger and much in-between. I feel privileged that I have this platform. I think my style of writing has become less lyrical and more to the point as I’ve travelled along this winding road. I loved writing poetry when I was at university and one of my only regrets is not having time to write more.
It tickles me rigid that there are people who have seen my blog in far flung countries. I’m able to see the ‘stats’ for the blog and it tells me where the eyeballs are. I’ll know when friends in Australia have read the blog, or when Mum’s on holiday in Italy because these places are highlighted. The other day, someone in Sweden stumbled across the website and it made me smile. They probably clicked off as soon as clicking on.
And I want to say a big smoochy thank you to you the reader (hi Mum!) I really do appreciate that I have a lovely core of readers who regularly read, comment in person or online and sometimes we can have a chat about what I’ve written. Don’t get my wrong, I don’t see this blog as something that will move the world or shift a mountain, but it’s my own little fidget spinner, spinning away and hopefully someone else will benefit from something I’ve wanged on about.
Starting this blog was really the start of a process to help myself with my mental health. If I was ever going to achieve more calm, I was the one who was going to have to initiate and instigate that first step. So in true ‘Ed’ style I decided to write down what was in my head and instead of keeping it to myself, I am arrogant enough to believe that you might find it interesting as well. And so I publish it for everyone to witness.
And that process has continued by finally speaking to a trained professional therapist and carving out time for myself when I’m tired, physically or mentally. 3 years. 3 fucking years. See you again in the next 3. Word up, hang loose and avoid the drizzle.
(Unless it’s lemon drizzle cake. Then I’d advise to go to town on that shit, because it’s yummy.)
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