It's now been three months in some form of lockdown (however loose) and I've had to spend more time with myself than I'd ever hoped to. Back in March it seemed like this whole thing would only be a couple of weeks before everything went back to 'normal', but as the weeks stretched into months it's starting to feel like it may never be that way.
It feels so weird and ... awful ... that the first monthly spread I did in lockdown was in March and here we are in June, still plugging away at home. May felt like a tough month, and if I'm honest I can barely remember what I did in it because the answer is probably nothing except take lots of naps and eat lots of snacks. Each day felt very long, but each week feels like it flew by in a matter of seconds.
I've been finding reading in lockdown actually a lot more difficult that normal. My anxiety's been on overdrive making it hard to concentrate on what I'm reading and really get stuck into books. Towards the end of last month I switched things up and got back into reading chick flicks, which was helpful in getting back into the swing on things a little. Chick flicks or romance books are something I love, but I'm usually trying to push myself to read something harder and it felt good to come back to this comfort.
