So my blogging retirement lasted all of 3 months. I’m laughing looking back at the day I posted that I wasn’t going to blog anymore, adamant my spare time would be used ‘more productively’ and declaring “who even cares about reading about me anyway” while shutting my Macbook down – deep down knowing it would never be the end. I’m hasty when making decisions. I’m over dramatic and more importantly, I’m my own worst critic. My blog grew stagnant. I wasn’t seeing any growth. I wasn’t feeling particularly proud of it. It felt like writing a post was a gigantic, inconvenience in my life rather than having that buzz about seeing it coming to life. I decided to take some time away, thinking I was just in a rut and needed to re inspire myself but it never came. Now I understand why.
I’ve openly said with blogging before that you really do need to be passionate about it. I know some people will roll their eyes at that statement – to be honest if I wasn’t a blogger and didn’t understand it’s purpose, my eyes would be at the back of my head too. I’ve always been passionate about fashion. I’ve worn makeup from a probably way too early age but it’s something that’s an integral part of my life. It makes me feel good. I love expressing my style, playing around with different trends and most of all, finding a good old bargain. But around February this year, when my anxiety reared it’s ugly head once again, I just lost interest in absolutely everything. I felt so bored by everything and no matter how hard I tried to invest my time in enjoying something, I was doing anything but. I was so frustrated and thus, spent less and less time on What Amy Did.
As part of my therapy, I shared my story on my anxiety and despite this being probably the most personal/raw post I’ve ever written on my blog, it was the easiest and the most exciting to write. I hammered it out in half an hour and as I scanned my text for my usual spelling mistakes and gazillion crimes against grammar, I started to feel something I haven’t in a very long time when writing a blog post – excited. I felt like I had just been told the juiciest bit of gossip and couldn’t wait to blurt it out. It was liberating. It made me feel free – that I finally didn’t need to pretend I was something I’m not and more importantly – I felt proud of myself while reading everything I had back to myself. This was exactly what I missed. It made me realise why I stopped blogging – it wasn’t because I hated it – I’d just grown tired of what I was writing about. I was writing about fashion and beauty while I was suffering from probably one of the worst periods in my life, using it as a coping mechanism to help write and give me something to focus on. Something to feel proud of. All while suppressing my anxiety, putting it into a box ahead and trying so hard to put it at the back of my mind as possible.
Since hitting publish on that very personal post, my little mind has been swamped with inspiration. I’ve rekindled a love for reading blogs, soaking up all the pretty images and sassy text and feeling like I’m suffering from severe FOMO. I want to blog again but I want to touch on a whole host of topics, particularly more mental health, lifestyle and wellness posts and not pigeon hole myself into just writing about fashion. Style and beauty will always be major elements in my life so these posts will still feature on What Amy Did from time to time but, I want to scratch below the surface. I want to have fun with my blog. I want to bring issues to light. I want to document highs and lows. I want to write and have fun with my little corner of the internet.
To go with my revamp, I’ve deleted some old posts and added a snazzy new theme. Whatcha think? I always think having a good spring clean of the blog works wonders for me creativity wise and I get excited to look at my blog when it’s had a tidy. Now all the admin and sprucing is done, it’s time to get writing some posts and blow the dust of my camera because a gal can’t rely on stock photos forever, y’know? I’m excited to see what the next few weeks bring.