It’s unusual for me. And disconcerting. My brain is almost always writing, but lately it seems a little dead, ruminating on the same things over and over again, never really moving past a thought or two. My husband, God love him, has learned to live with more mumbling than normal, more “Never mind, I don’t feel like talking about it” responses to his, “So, what were you saying?” inquiries.
Maybe it’s not running much. Maybe it’s just being busy. Maybe it’s the last five years. More than likely, it’s all of it, along with a bunch of other nonsense and definitely-not-so-much-nonsense that I can’t even fully identify.
I say this not to solicit advice or to look for sympathy, but simply to point out that, as funny and wonderful and blessed as my life is, it’s not perfect. And I’m far from it. (As those who deal with me on a regular basis are more than aware.) Like a lot of other people, I’m just trying to get through a valley, grateful that I’m able to realize there are many peaks ahead.
For the moment, being able to finally put a little of it into words helps…