There have been various times when reading books was the most important activity in my life. And there have certainly been times when it is the most common one. But for the last few years I’ve struggled to finish any book I’ve started - and I haven’t even started that many.

In fact I’ve struggled to do a lot of the things that are important to me in the recent years. Hobbies, interests, creative expression. Oh sure I’ll do things, fun things even, things I like! But never in any sort of consistent manner, never making progress on longer projects, and never feeling like I was engaged in a practice, a habit - instead: just random fits and starts and then fizzle-out. Since I got married and moved in with my partner in 2019, it’s like every routine I had in my life dissolved and never reformed. The pandemic clearly didn’t help. Neither did getting diagnosed with ADHD right before the pandemic started.

Yeah that ADHD thing, it probably hasn’t been helping the whole time, huh?

But that’s not what this is about. Whining about how my executives refuse to function, and I can’t seem to do any of the silly things that are meaningful to me? What is this, my journals??

Nah nah. I am here to say that I have started a book I really enjoy and I intend to finish it. And most unlikely of all, I actually think I might. Now, full disclosure, I am 50+ pages into a 480ish-page book, so there is still plenty of time for this to go off the rails and join the other books I’ve abandoned over the last few years. But I don’t think it will. Because this isn’t happening in a vacuum. This isn’t a random spurt of energy I’m desperately trying to coax into Inspiration or Consistency.

I’ve actually just been putting the time in. Learning what works for me, and what doesn’t. Trying to stop holding myself up to what I “should” be doing, and instead focusing on what I actually think I might be able to do. I’ve spent years learning what doesn’t work for me. And yet every time the wheel turns, I deploy the same assortment of tactics that failed me the last go ‘round.

Lately though, it’s been different, and I’m getting things done. Important, meaningful things like playing video games and watching wrestling. You may think I’m kidding but when you are lying in bed at night recapping your day, what gave it meaning? Was it work? Facebook? An out-of-balance checkbook? Our passions are the only thing we can count on, now and forever. I am finally finding a way to fashion my passions into a bulwark against the coming/already-here storm. My fortress is lined with comic books and patrolled by professional wrestlers. My cats and partner are here with me and the reading light is good. That’s good enough for me.

There’s more work to be done. There’s always more work to be done. But at least I am building on something, instead of cleaning the debris and starting from scratch again. I’ll take it.

Onward.