I'm just breaking back into writing. Some time ago, I was writing on a daily basis, sometimes for most of my waking hours. I really enjoyed it, and the work I was producing. On and off this writing was entirely forum post based, in between my 'down-periods' of these times, I would write fiction. When I wasn't writing I would read, or immerse myself in watching movies in my favorite genres (at the time), horror, thriller, and comedy.
One day, in my hay-days of messing around and neglecting my future, my hard drive crashed in my laptop. Not a big deal, since I backed up everything important to various USB drives and external hard drives. My writing was no exception to being backed up, in fact it was the reason I had everything backed up so well, as all experienced writer's tend to agree that their written work is invaluable/irreplacable - and that backing up thoroughly, is all-important. So, I had a cup filled with usb drives. Beside that cup were two ext-hdd's that I mentioned earlier - all containing everything I'd ever written since the day that being a writer had chosen me.
I replaced the hard drive in my laptop. Not a big deal, just a bit of money worthwhile spent on a necessity. My laptop was fresh again, and I had no urgent want for the media from my storage devices, at the time. So, it happened that I'd recently met a young couple who were hulled up in a hotel room with nowhere else to live. I thought they deserved a better place to live, and the better circumstances, afforded by my rented house, so I invited them to stay at my house until they found somewhere better (my house wasn't great by any means). Things went alright for a short time but my life was going down hill, and I knew I needed my space. I gave the guy some notice - basically letting him know that I'd like him to find somewhere else in the near future and why. The conversation went well, and he took the news with humility.
A time came shortly afterward when a device of mine went missing from the charging socket where I normally kept it. They didn't know anything about it. I ended up going to the holiday park to find out prices and availability. They had cabins available for permanent residency! Then I let them know that I needed them to move out, and was willing to overlook their rent, etc so they could pay for the new place. I moved them into the cabin and returned home, only to find most of everything worth anything had "gone missing." While I was dealing with this, my phone rang. It was the guy I'd just moved out. He told me he had my dongle (it's a usb mobile internet modem - in my case for prepaid internet access), and he told me he didn't know how they "ended up with it." It was in my bedroom and plugged into my laptop, by the way. Yeah, long story short, he gave that back to me. We parted on friendly terms. I wasn't up for a major dispute at the time - just took my new found solitude as a blessing, and moved on.
It was shortly after cancelling my missing passport that I discovered my external storage devices weren't there. My newly installed laptop hard drive didn't have anything on it yet, my writing was gone! I didn't write again either. I struggle with where to start, as I had several 'works in progress' and story, character ideas etc in there, I felt lost about where to pick it back up. I'm attached to those stories and the characters in them - I guess I'm still lost. But all was not lost of my writing. I found a single short story that I'd printed twice since the first print was faded (I had the faded copy, the better one was sent to a friend), and I managed to copy it out using my laptop and went on to publish it on Kindle. But the writing ended there. At the time of writing that short story, I was staying with my Dad and my siblings, on his side. There was plenty of time to sit at the computers in his house while everyone was out working or doing other things, and so I spent a solid three weeks working on my psychological-thriller, flash fiction story which now consists of little over one page. My Dad never read it. Absolutely refused to entertain the idea, he just said "I hate reading, Son." This hurt and confused me because (other than the obvious reasons), he read emails, text messages, facebook posts, etc all the time. It was my work of passion and he wouldn't look at it. It was our first get-together in over ten years as well. I haven't written anything substantial since, until recently.
While I was staying with my mate, Mike, I was very content with my life circumstances, and since I had been writing in a professional capacity for some time, and with his encouragement after reading some of my work, I wrote a few scenes for a story using a similar setting, and themes as a script I'd recieved good feed-back on by a writing critic who I respect. But then I had to move out for personal issues I had with Mike's new partner who'd moved in and the creative writing stopped again. I was an avid reader at this point however and reading like a trojan, I escaped from my plight in the worlds created by writers. Until last week, reading was my primary activity. And I loved it! But then I found myself reaching out here more often after the covid-19 lockdown was in full swing and have reacquainted myself with my familiar friend, the keyboard. I'm growing as a person and as a writer. I feel I owe this growth to this community. So here it is, my first written work of "fiction" that I've undertaken in quite some time, and not written for anyone but myself. I hope this reaches you well, and that you can find some solace/comfort in knowing that for all our trifles in life there is always room for healing and over-coming our personal barriers. Wish me happiness in my writing whatever form it takes, as I wish the best for all of you who are struggling similarly.
Disclaimer: This post relates solely to my writing and does not mention my many other (and very much) more serious life problems which I may/may not have dealt with to a satisfactory degree.
Cool theme, can't resist posting in here despite a certain thing I might have stated the other day lol. 
