It’s been a while since I’ve been here. I think my last post was my 50th birthday and I will be 55 in October. I’ve been at a loss for words in more ways than one.

I seem to have forgotten how to write. My muse just walked off and left me and it feels like I’ve lost such an important part of myself and I can’t figure out how to get it back. I’ve got a couple of almost written stories that have 50,000 words or more and I can’t figure out how to end them. I have a dozen or more first chapters that went absolutely no where. It’s like having something on the tip of your tongue and not being able to get it out. Some days it makes me want to cry but that seems like something I’ve forgotten how to do as well.

It’s kind of crazy but I’ve gotten to the point where I’ve stuffed everything down so far that I’m afraid if I ever let it out I might not be able to stop. So I don’t. I almost do, but then I can feel the sadness and anger and crazy-assed rage start to take over and I pull it back, because I know the person who’s standing there in front of me is most likely not the person who deserves to be on the receiving end of my insanity. Being the straw that broke the camels back doesn’t make you responsible for the backlog.

I do tear up. Video of an abused cat or dog? I start to sniffle. Those videos where military people are reunited with their loved ones? Tears always start to fall. My little neice or nephew says “I love you” and I’m grinning as my eyes fill.

But that’s it. Do I know it’s shoring up a crumbling dam with rotting trees? Of course, but I’m at a loss on how to fix it.

I thought about therapy, but I’m not sure I really believe it can help. I’ve seen so many people in therapy who never get better because the therapist can only work with what you give them and if you aren’t giving them the truth, then how can you actually heal. And I can’t quite convince myself that talking about stuff to a stranger is going to make me feel any better.

The hysterical thing is, here I am on my blog, talking to a bunch of strangers…if anyone even sees it.

I’ve also lost the words I used to have when people needed me to talk. The words that would fix things and make situations better. Anyone who knows me knows that I can talk for days without running out of things to say. If there were Olympics for running off at the mouth, I’d be a gold medalist.

But I think too much these days and reconsider every god damn idea that might possibly come out of my mouth because I might upset someone or be taken the wrong way. With my record, it’s a valid concern. So, I’ve kind of given up I think. And it makes me sad because I really do want to help the people I care about.

I feel like if I could ever get some of those words out of my head, I might be able to make room for my muse to come visit but I don’t know if that will ever happen. I hope it does. I have lots of ideas for stories I would love to tell if I could ever get over that stumbling block the size of the Great Wall of China.

Anyway, closing out with a pic of my writing companion George. She’s a bit of a stinker but I love her to bits.