The Bones of Ten Years

The Bones of Ten Years

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You may have noticed, as I have, that I’m not here as often. Posts aren’t as regular. There was a time, the bones of ten years really, when I posted every Sunday, without fail, come hail or hangover. A young man’s game. And now it’s more just when I have time. Because life is different now, and life is busy, and there are other mediums where we can reach more people.

But this change has been difficult. I’ve been laden with guilt, disappointment, because I’m not posting here with the same consistency as I did when it started. It feels like I’ve left some key part of me go, and maybe I have. Or maybe it’s just evolved into something else. It used to be my primary way to communicate with anyone who’d listen. It isn’t that anymore. And I know that’s okay, but I guess I’m experiencing some form of grief over it. Because this little website is where everything began for me. And it’s grown into something now I could have never envisioned.

This isn’t a final post. Nothing would ever be so dramatic. I just noticed these feelings over the summer, and I noticed how I was avoiding them. So I wanted to talk on it. And this is just an example, as ever, of something we all experience eventually. Sometimes we grow beyond things, situations, people. Sometimes we have to leave things go, or at least change our relationship to them. Which is all part of this life. But there is grief with that, and there is pain. Because we will never be the same as we once were. And I think there’s something about knowing that which hurts us.

Probably the most human of discomforts actually, learning how to live with change. We’re slow to the draw. But that’s us. That’s what makes us human. Knowing things will always change, being reluctant to accept it. Stubborn sort of an animal, really.