If you’ve been on my blog for a while, you’ll remember a post I did at the start of last year where I wrote about the books that had the greatest impact on me in 2016. Well, in a shocking turn of events, I’m gonna share with you some of my tops reads of 2017. How exciting!
Hello there. It’s been a minute, hasn’t it? I hope you’ve all had a good Christmas and a very happy New Year, however you celebrated – or didn’t.
You may have noticed that my monthly ‘series’ – Moments – has been absent for the last couple of months. I’ve had to take a bit of a step back from blogging, due to being too overwhelmed. With work, with uni, mental health… oh, and not to mention that my bowels exploded in early December (slightly melodramatic, but go with it). I thought it would be slightly amiss to not do a post rounding up my year, as is customary to do around this time.
I had a read of my New Year post from last year, and it was a little… sad. Very melancholic. And it made me all the more sad that my mental health hasn’t really improved over the last 12 months. I didn’t set myself any goals or resolutions, per se, but reading that post did leave me feeling a little downtrodden that 2017 didn’t turn out as well as I’d have liked.
In a sea of brilliant, talented, witty, funny women, I was drowning.
In my eyes, everyone had something that made them unique, and I had nothing.
I tried to emulate the styles of my social media crushes, to no avail. That style was reserved, already being done, hence why mine felt like a watered down version. Better to be a first-rate version on yourself than a second-rate version of someone else, and all that.
I have been so fixated on others and their uniqueness, that mine wasn’t shining through. Or it was, but I didn’t deem it good enough.
As we edge ever closer to the end of 2016, I decided to take some time to sit down and reflect on the past 12 months. I wasn’t going to, originally. I thought, “what on earth can I contribute that won’t have been said a million times over already? What have I got to add that won’t be an horrific cliché?” But then, I decided to shrug away the negative side of my brain.
2016. “What a horrendous year!” they say, “So many deaths! So much political discourse! Good riddance – roll on 2017!” I used to love New Year, until I realised that time is just an illusion, and bears no real meaning in the grand scheme of things. Maybe this is why as a human race, we’re obsessed with ascribing meaning to it, to make it matter. As much I resist, I still can’t help but feel a lightness at the end of the year, the feeling that it all starts over once again. Tomorrow is just another day, the clocks may be changing, but nothing will really change. But there’s something refreshing about ‘starting over’, even if it’s not really starting over, just continuing on.