Maybe it’s just me, or maybe it’s because the UK has come into full icy weather. Yet it’s 2021; I thought this year I would be more inspired. Maybe it’s the cold, the fact my region went into tier 4, the impending doom of corona virus and a new vaccine promise swirling in the air, but to me, it feels like where I was excited for 2021 to bring new exciting things, it turned into the eh again so quickly that its been difficult to feel that inspired.
I wish we didn’t have to wear masks, that we could go grab coffee, meetup with our friends again and get stupidly drunk in pubs and bars. Maybe it’s the jealousy of seeing those in places where they can reunite and celebrate, when we already are so tightly bound under restrictions. Maybe it’s because corona has not hit close to home yet, that makes me feel like I’m in a dystopian that isn’t affecting me directly.
Maybe it’s the feeling that not much has changed in reality. Promises that corona’s eventual death was on the horizon was a big feeling of excitement, but in all honesty, I don’t know if there is an ending. And if there is an end, in the UK at least, that doesn’t mean there will be an end in third world countries who will be plagued with the illness for a long time.
Or maybe its because I spend the first feeling rather sorry for myself after guzzling copious amounts of prosecco the night before and lay in bed, my body begging for masses of orange juice, and slept for most of the day.
And day two was spent accidently hiking up a mountain into a snowstorm, falling on sheets of ice millions of times (literally was like a slip and slide!) and feeling the aches and pains I can only imagine I would feel in my sixties, not my twenties.
Or is it that I long for Scotland. That I am staying in England for Christmas with my parents, but my heart yearns for the mountains, the paths where you can walk for miles and never see a soul or hear a soul. The valleys and spectacular waterfalls that just beg to be found hidden in the hills.
Maybe it’s the feeling after Christmas is over and gone, the excitement and build up plateaus and reality kicks in. The tree goes down and the next celebration is months away so you find yourself in a rut.
Or maybe it’s only that it’s been a mere two days into 2021 and I’m expecting miracles. We all lost so much in a year that I found myself believing that it would all be over and life would return to normal.
So I’m trying to push through the eh, say bye to the ugh and find a groove again to become inspired in 2021 in ways I couldn’t fathom in 2020. And if not, there is always next year.