It’s been one of those days where you find you’ve taken two steps forward and three steps back – then fell backasswards off of a cliff. Want to come to my Pity Party, anyone?
- I’ve had a stroke. Can’t remember squat, like:
*how to type
*how to use a pencil
*how to spell
*how to walk
*how to talk
*how to dress myself
****how to finish the novel I was in the middle of when I had this blasted TIA, which was a hard won, one-third of the way to completion.
I seem to have gotten lost somewhere, those parts of me that make me – ME. I do know who I am. It’s locating me inside of this dumfuggled, scrambled, crambled, muddled, fuddled and befuddled, addled, dizzy, woozy, muzzy, groggy, foggy, dopey and dazed brain of mine that causes me such agitation.
It’s so frustrating. I get flashes of the whole the snapshot of what “Me” entails. Then it’s gone.
I know the basics: I’m married – and of a necessity, due to my limitations, separated from my spouse. I know I’m an ordained minister, an arm chair philosopher and a student of Nature and that I maintain websites connected to THOSE parts of me (which are woefully out of date).
I also know that I cannot pursue any religious ministry because my filters
are all out of kilter and “the ‘f’ bomb” slips out every now and again, along with certain other, less shocking profanities. In any case, no longer clergy material.
But I AM still a writer, damnit.
At least, I think so.
“I think, therefore I am…”, or so the saying goes. So, yes, damnit…STILL A WRITER!
You just watch – – I’ll come away from this experiece with all sorts of creations under my belt (Good Lord willin’ and the creek don’t rise!)