I like to fancy myself as a writer and generally speaking, I am more often than not quite adequately equipped to forge words into whatever I will them to be and wield them at once in whatever way I see fit, but of late – not so much.
I’ve plenty to say. I do. It’s not that my mind has lost the functionality required to form thought, it has however, seemingly lost the practical knowledge required to transform those thoughts into words that work together while simultaneously placing them one after another upon a page to form something somewhat coherent to whomever may chance upon them, including myself. That sentence alone should be enough to convince just about anyone that what I’m saying has some validity to it.
I get pissy when I cannot write. Not writing makes me pissy. I am pissy when I do not write.
Obviously – I am feeling rather pissy at this particular moment in time. That perturbs me.
It’s brain fog. Foggy brain. My brain is lost and adrift and the lighthouse which ought to be leading me back to me seems to be out-of-order. I’m floundering blindly about, feeling and stumbling my way across the vast landscape of scattered everything in my mind.
I’ll not grumble and groan of the causes, anyone with a chronic illness or those who love someone who battles the seemingly never ending crappola of one, will undoubtedly know what that blasted brain fog can do a person. For those who are blessed to be bewildered by my seemingly overly dramatic angst regarding the current state of my fogged in mind – you are actually, quite literally, blessed.
By the way, this is nowhere near over dramatic, not even close to being so. A few more days of this pissy, foggy, nonsense and I will go full on drama queen. Actually, I’ll be too tired for that. Empty threats are about all I’ve the energy for.
I’ve tried to write for weeks now. Most of it was deleted immediately or left unfinished in some unnamed file I’ll find one day when I figure out how to find files on this blasted piece of glorious technology. Since my words betrayed and abandoned me, I took to doodling. It’s actually quite relaxing. Of course, my hand is cramped up and I haven’t done anything else for three days aside from going to Michael’s craft store for some pencils and fine tip pens.
Tomorrow is a new day, perhaps I will find my way to that proverbial saddle and hop back on it. We’ll see . . .