I’ve struggled all week with an absolute inability to write. Well, not exactly absolute. I can always journal. But for every blog post I’ve written that was well received, I feel a need to up the ante and write something better. I’ve reached critical mass now and seem to have overloaded my brain circuits, which is not hard to do given the fact that I’m still recovering from benzodiazepine addiction and chemical sensitivity. So I figured, why not write about it?
I know some of my readers know just what I’m talking about. So many illnesses result in this terrible, foggy feeling in the head. This inability to grasp simple things or to express any complex thought our emotion in words. This lack of inspiration.
It’s a tragic symptom. What is more terrible than to lose the ability to think clearly? What makes us us? Is it not, in part, our thoughts and how we express them?
I used to be smart. My thoughts were crystal clear and seemed lightning fast. Now I feel that my mind plods along like an aging donkey. It’s terribly ironic that I would have begun publishing my writing to a blog just at the time in my life when my mental faculties are at their weakest. It’s the syndrome that’s eating at my brain that made me want to do it. It gave me a terrible need to express myself, to find others like me. I just wish that both the impulse to tell my story and the ability to think clearly enough to do it had coincided.
I know that sometime in the near future, I will get my brain back and this blog will bloom. But until then, forgive my occasional lapses into profound states of mental stasis.